The Bridge! Get Off!
Come here, where it's safe.
Everyone survived,
At least, I hope
What a fucking mess,
She nearly killed them all!
She is only a child,
Under the weight of that throne.
Oh Hylia help us,
Look what have you done.
I had no other choice!
Is that what you think?
Have I taught you nothing?
Patience, Riju, patience!
We would have died by their hands!
And now we'll die alone.
Send a letter to Muzu,
The Regent must know.
By the Goddess, can you believe it?
The whole thing is down!
Sidon would have stopped this.
Give me a report. Is anyone hurt?
We sent word with a Rito,
I think it's time we went home.
The aftershocks lingered for days. Thwarting tongues. Scattering soldiers. The Zora shrugged through their shock, asking each other that inescapable question. Why stay?
No one had been killed by the destruction of the Geldarm Bridge, but those closest to it nursed lacerations and cuts that formed a crosshatch, Link and Zelda included. Her partner did what he could; healed those who wanted to be healed, muttering platitudes and soothing words.
"You'll go home soon," Link told a Zora warrior he was attending to, and Zelda hoped that his words would come true. Somewhere, in the glistening interweave of Zora's Domain, she hoped that Prince Sidon would soon find his crown, and call an end to this rabid conflict. He has Larella with him, she reminded herself, hoping the notion would calm her. No such luck. So why has he taken so long? She drummed her fingers on her thigh, impatience fervent within her.
"Home..." ruminated the Zora warrior, flexing his arm now that it was healed. "What I wouldn't give to see the Domain! I should be thanking that crazy little Chief." Laughter rounded the small group of injured Zora waiting for Link's attention. Praise little Riju, they snickered. We can finally leave this stupid valley.
And so it seemed that the Zora sent to siege Gerudo Desert garnered no hate for their opponents. They, like everyone in their flotsam of a kingdom, just wanted a recess from it all. All this conflict, all this chaos; all it needed to be ended was for everyone to agree that it was pointless. But how could one argue that something was nothing and that nothing meant something?
Her father's journal gave the order on what to do; the situation has become too complex, he had written of the Goron Civil Crisis in the years before she was born, my presence will not untie this particular knot.
The Goron Crisis was a long story, but the lesson was clear; retreat is not failure. With this in mind, Zelda set herself three tasks while Link continued his healing.
First, she sought out the commanding officer of the Zora, a wide-stanced and ageing man who looked affronted that the siege dare be over. She found him barking orders at no one in particular, grasping steadfast onto the last of his command. With a polite bow and a firm voice, she told him that the best course of action was to ferry his injured home and leave the Gerudo to their own struggles.
"Chief Riju only wanted that you leave; I do not believe she wished to harm you," Zelda advised.
The officer huffed but agreed to consider her suggestion only because he recognised her as the Hylian Princess, and recalled how she healed Divine Beast Vah Ruta. Royalty always gets what they want, he had muttered under his breath. But he did as she advised, and once he raised the prospect of returning home, his warriors were so amiable to the idea that the camp had begun to pack up within an hour.
Next on her list of tasks was to find a Rito courier, and send an urgent letter to Larella, and another to Hyrule Castle. She found one lingering at the camp's edge, his pack already full with messages bound for the Domain, each warrior sending his kin the same news; I'm alive.
Zelda's letter was not entirely different;
The Geldarm is down. Destroyed by Chief Riju. The Zora are retreating. Cinelgen still missing. Link and myself unharmed. Be vigilant.
Link offered to translate it into Shiekah Code for security, until Zelda pointedly reminded him that he was one of only four people living who could easily read it (their aging Shiekah allies being the other three). He took that in his stride, stopping his healing to pull out his notebook and complete the task regardless.
"Did you plan for an attack on the bridge in that red book of yours?" Zelda teased, but Link did not recognise the jape.
"I had, actually," he frowned, flipping determinedly through the pages. "But I thought it would be instigated by the Zora."
And thirdly, she wrote one more letter, to be delivered by any traveller that they could find at the Outskirt Stables willing to cross through the Highlands and enter Gerudo. An unlikely prospect, but one she could improve by promising a handsome reward. One hundred rupees? Maybe three hundred? Whatever the price, she needed Riju to read the words;
Should you need assistance rebuilding, we can offer aid. But I cannot condone what you have done. Lady Urbosa once gave me some advice that I would like to pass on. Fury is like fire, Chief Riju. A tool, a weapon, a defence; but fury, like fire, consumes.
When she was done, Zelda saw that the line of Zora wanting to heal had grown short, and soon after non-existent. Their camp was almost entirely consolidated, folded neatly into packs and wagons, the ground where they had been undisturbed - as though they had never come. It was strangely uneventful, almost disappointing. An arduous siege that was the culmination of months of civil unrest, ending suddenly like shutting a book.
Zelda found Link already having packed up their things once more, as eager to leave as she was. With a curt farewell to the Zora commanding officer, they departed ahead of the Zora, leaving the carnivorous Gerudo Desert - the place that consumed plans and intentions like dogs to a rabbit - behind once more.
The heat followed from the valley; Spring had come to Hyrule in the form of sun-filled days, swarms of flowers, and the almost petulant, persistent hum of dusk bugs and the hawking wildlife, calling forth the change of season.
The humidity made Zelda a little dizzy. Not hot enough to induce abandon. Not cold enough to harden her skin into a shield. And the rain. The rain. Pressing down against the earth, infiltrating through woollen sleeves, single droplets caressing her neck, flattening golden hair made muddy-blonde against her scalp. This was the Hyrule that greeted them as they rode once again along the cliffs of the Great Plateau.
In the interim between the desert and Necluda, they made camp at the Outpost Ruins. Dusk found Zelda huddled under a ruined shack, her father's journal clutched against her chest, while Link practised his swordplay in the rain. A familiar scenario, she realised, but a happy one now. She had urged him to stop - to rest, lest he catches a cold, to come sit by her side - but he explained just how long he'd had spent so much time cooped up in narrow cells and dark arenas. He wanted to move, wanted to stretch his soul, hear the song, and so she sang while he danced, her father's journal traded for her golden harp, and they made music between themselves under the rising moonlight.
Rhoamet too began to dance, pacing through the rain. Chasing butterflies or patrolling, it was hard to tell. Link had performed another diagnostic on him with the Sheikah Slate and found strangely little. Rhoamet was uncorrupted, but all other readings were scrambled. What information the Slate gave them was useless. Serial numbers. Unreadable code. And a single repeated and recapitulated phrase.
No. Infantry: Zero
Only now it had punctuation; now it made sense.
"Number of infantry, zero," Link read aloud. "A count of soldiers?"
Rhoamet sat dutifully before them. He began to blink, repeating the phrase on the screen.
Link did a quick scan of the ruins around them. They were empty of infantry, that was certain. "Why would he be keeping track of that?"
"And why report it to Vah Naboris?" Zelda added.
More scribbling. Link reached the last page of his journal, and so seconded her Sheikah Slate to make more. He'd been taking photos too, documenting; Rhoamet's segmented legs, his ceramic looking body, the pattern of his swirls and markings. A habit carried over from when he'd started using the Hyrule Compendium to catalogue the beasts and bits of nature that he came across.
The Slate was still at his belt now. Zelda had forgotten to ask for it back. It suits him, she mused. The blue matches his eyes. It bobbed and bounced against his hip as he moved, hooked neatly by the clasps fastened to his side.
As she watched, Zelda thought on the words of the Deku Tree. They boomed in her head, as though he were not fifty yards behind her. Have you considered, Princess, he had asked her, what it means to hold all three? The three triangles; the Royal Crest. She had thought the riddle to be referring to her power. He had told her that generally, it would split, and seek out those who embodied those virtues of wisdom, courage and power. But it hadn't in her. She would have thought herself to be wisdom if any of the virtues. And surely Link most embodied courage? Is that not what he was, in mind and soul; courage's own manifestation? But the Slate at his hip told a different story; something far less reductive. Something that would normally be lost to legend; hazed in the passing of time.
Soon he rejoined her at the fire, unbuckling his sword and belt, lifting his tunic over his head to wring it dry over the fire, his undershirt still soaked through and clinging to his chest. Zelda smiled without thinking, two words wafting into her conscience like beacons from a watchtower - constant, inherent. He's mine.
"Feel better?" she asked. Link nodded, chest heaving. Behind him, Rhoamet was still waltzing to his own tune.
"What about you?" he asked, re-shirting and sitting down at her side. "That business in the desert-"
"Would have broken us both, three months ago," Zelda interjected. "But here we are. Pressing on as we always do."
She was about to reach for him; to pull him in close so she could feel his warmth and take in the smell of rain on his skin when in the distance, she caught sight of a figure veiled by the downpour. A Hylian, atop a weary horse, trudging along the path from the south. They were on their feet in a second; Link with his sword drawn, and Zelda with her Sparrow bow. They stood side by side, ready to meet the newcomer.
But out from the rain, the only person that emerged was Inglis.
Soaked and grumpy, he stared down at them for a long moment before bursting into laughter. Zelda could only watch as Link joined in, sheathing his sword and meeting Inglis beside the horse to give him a strong-armed hug. Though it was hard to tell in the rain, Zelda thought for a moment that Inglis was weeping with joy.
"What are you doing here?" he cried. "Don't you have a Castle to run?"
"We were looking for you," Link shot back.
"Surely not," Inglis smiled. "I'm not Gerudo."
He turned to Zelda, bowed low, and offering to take her hand in his, he said. "A pleasure to finally meet you, Princess."
He and Link are of a kind, she thought, taking his hand and curtseying in return, sensing the gentleness to Inglis that she had long known in Link. Yet, he had still been Cinna's confidant, she reminded herself. Father would call me a fool for trusting him.
Inglis recounted his journey as they settled in for the night; Cinelgen had fled to Faron against everyone's expectations, but Aurelia had found them, and in the chaos, Inglis had escaped.
Link's ears had pricked at the melodic name. "Aurelia is alive?"
"With a vengeance," Inglis grinned. "She took the rest of her Yiga from him."
That name again; Aurelia the Yiga woman. Link had not spoken of her; indeed this was only the second time Zelda had heard the name. Who are you, she wondered of the faceless woman.
They sat around the fire, passing between them the bag of wildberries that Link had picked on his way out of Gerudo. Inglis spoke with heavy features, and the thick, unmistakable accent of an Akkalan, his voice strangely lumbered for someone apparently set free, "I don't know where Cinna is now, and he could have gone in any direction."
"Lurelin Village is the nearest settlement in Faron, but Hateno is the closest town," Link pondered, the dim light from the Sheikah Slate reflecting in his eyes as he examined its map. He looked up at their new companion. "But you know Cinna, would he really make for the nearest town?"
Inglis bowed his head between his knees. "Cinna's harder to read than ever. He has something planned - he's biding his time, but for what, I don't know." He sniffled, wiping his nose on his sleeve and lifting his head to gaze into the flames.
Link passed Zelda the bag of wildberries, and returned to scanning the map in the Slate. Zelda saw the difference then, that which divided the boys before her. Link's eyes shimmered with purpose, something having been unhindered within him in the months that they were apart; Inglis' were lost, drooped from fatigue. When he blinked, he flinched.
"Then we have time, too." Zelda concluded, passing him the wildberries. "Hateno is a traveller's hub. If he has been seen, we will find out."
The arch of the Duelling Peaks pressed in close overhead as they lead their horses towards the swamp that preceded Fort Hateno, and soon the ephemeral stream that they walked along widened into a river that followed the bordering hills, leading eastwards into Hateno.
The hooded travellers at the Duelling Peaks Stables would otherwise have paid them no mind - happy to hide out of the rain and wait for night to fall by their fires and within the thatched walls. But wide eyes reflecting humming cerulean lights greeted them instead, as did the open mouthed gasps and muffled shouts. Guardian! Guardian! They cried, and they scrambled and made such as fuss that even Rhoamet seemed to sense their hostility.
It wasn't until Link managed to get ahold of the Stablekeep and explain who the party were and what Rhoamet was that the commotion finally began to die down.
"You'll get this everywhere you take him," Inglis commented as he rubbed down his horse, and unstrapped his saddle bag. "No matter how many times you explain."
Link was unphased, focusing his attention on soothing his unsettled Guardian by running a steady hand along his ceramics. "Then I will explain, as many times as it takes. He's an important part of our history."
"Perhaps there are others," Zelda mused as she worked her own horse, adding, "That survived, I mean. Robbie said the rest were dead."
"Robbie," Link repeated, happening upon a forgotten thought. He nodded, feeling the idea catch. "Robbie might know."
They had settled their horses in the barns behind the stables tent, and just beyond the line of trees that gathered around the boundary was that final swamp - a haunted place, Link knew. Rhoamet had turned to survey, and Rhoamet had seen, marching off towards the piles of now long-deceased Guardians.
"Hey, hey, no," Link muttered, following his Guardian, but Rhoamet did not hear. Soldier like, he made his way into the swamp, his Hylian companions following on foot.
In their journeys so far, they had yet to come across many deactivated Guardians; the only ones Link could remember where the small handful they had encountered in Hyrule Field. But there were more here. Many, many more. And they weren't just deactivated, as many had been at Ganon's vanquishing. These were the Guardians that Link had killed.
Rhoamet carefully approached the slumped body of one of his old comrades, staring silently. His head whirred to examine the Guardian next to it, and then again to the pile resting against a partially collapsed wall. When Link, Zelda and Inglis finally managed to reach him, he was padding circles on the grass, taking in each of the many dead that surrounded them. And when he finally turned to Link, he repeated that same phrase.
No. infantry: zero.
"I know, buddy," Link whispered. "They're all gone. I'm sorry."
Infantry down.
"I know. Ganon killed-"
Retreat.
Link started. "W-what?"
Regroup: HC.
"Link - what is he saying?" Zelda asked. He focused, trying to understand. Retreat. Regroup. New phrases.
"He's giving orders," Link realised. "These were his infantry."
"His...infantry…?" Inglis murmured, and Link nodded, stepping slowly towards his Guardian.
"He's not a soldier. He's not even a Knight," he concluded, watching as Rhoamet continued meandering through the swamp, blinking furiously down at the decaying old foot soldiers beneath him. "He's a commander."
Like I was, Link thought as he reached Rhoamet, and climbed quickly onto his shell. Perhaps the Gods brought us together then.
There was nothing more they could do for the Guardian. Link led him away from the swamp - back to the safety and oblivion of the Stables - and as they walked, he wondered if it was cruel somehow that Rhoamet had survived where the rest of his kin had fallen.
Three golden arrows made quick work of the marauding Moblins as though they were no greater threat than Chu Chus. Zelda shot one through the eye, and the other twice through the heart, giggling proudly to herself when they fell.
It was the most exciting thing that had happened in their entire journey into Hateno, and Link was finding it difficult to remain awake in his saddle. He tried to focus on the chatter between Zelda and Inglis - they were discussing the operation of the Sheikah Slate - but his eyelids were like lead, his muscles water and his fingers numb from the icy cold of the morning. The Necludan valleys brought turbulent winds that staved off the onset of summer, just when Link was beginning to think that winter might finally be over.
It well past noon when they finally made their way into Hateno, taking a southern path to avoid the main town. Too many people there - as adamant that Link was that he could soothe the people on Rhoamet's presence, he had no wish to quell an entire town. And he had not slept the night before, his mind filled with the realisation about his Guardian, hence his drowsiness even with the afternoon sun high and hot overhead.
As always, Rhoamet followed silently by the side of Link's horse, though the party had needed to stop more than once due to the Guardian becoming stuck between the tightly grouped hillside trees.
"He's caught in the trees again!" Inglis would call, shaking Link from his stupor. Once, in the haze of his own sleepiness, he had replied,
"He's not caught, Inglis. The trees are in the way."
If Link was half-asleep before, Inglis and Zelda's laughter had awoken him then. He grumbled, disliking feeling so sluggish. Zelda had not slept either, yet she was sprightly, almost antsy, and then he remembered; she hasn't been to Hateno in a hundred years.
She had sat at the foot of his bed, conversing with him almost the entire night as they un-threaded what they had learned about Rhoamet. It is hard to theorise with what little information they had, but this is what they had decided; Rhoamet looked like a regular Guardian Stalker, if a little smaller, but he was something like a…
"Nodal activator," Zelda had said. "Or something like that."
"Excuse me?" Link blinked, feeling as though she had spoken a foreign tongue.
"We know from tapestries and limited research that the Guardians used swarm tactics, you saw it for yourself during the Calamity," she explained. "One can imagine each Guardian as a node in a network, but perhaps occasionally there would be an activator, to detect and evaluate new threats, and to coordinate with the Beasts, or maybe even us."
"A commander," Link offered, thinking of the soldiers he had led at Fort Hateno. Or the nodes, as Zelda would call them.
"Exactly."
If he admitted it to himself, Link felt a little chuffed. His Guardian was smarter than the others. His Guardian was a leader. But still, Link was troubled, unable to shake the notion that Rhoamet no longer had a purpose. That he should have been long dead if the Goddess was kind.
They rejoined the main path and led Rhoamet up along the steep hill towards Link's house. Inglis had already parted to head into town, and inquire at the inn for any word of a fiery-haired Gerudo man and a bed for the night. When he'd asked if Link and Zelda needed rooms, Link had cheerfully informed him that the answer was no.
"I have a house here; we'll sleep there." He'd cast an askance glance at the woman riding along the path at his side, and wondered with another flutter of glee if he would sleep alone.
The trio would regroup in the morning; Link and Zelda would pay a call to Purah at the Hateno Ancient Tech Lab, and with the information that Inglis had found in the town, they would make their next decision on how to act. For now, Link could think of nothing he wanted more than to rest - to have an evening off, at last, in his own home.
Zelda stowed their horses in the bays by the house, while Link explained to Rhoamet that he could tap on the window if he needed anything. "Just say my name, buddy, and I'll be there." Rhoamet gave an affirmative, Okay, Link, and tucked himself in under the tree by Link's house, his flickering lights fading as he entered what seemed like a low-power state.
"Does he sleep, truly?" Zelda asked, but Link could not answer with more than a shrug.
The inside of Link's Hateno house was endearingly unchanged, save a small amount of dust that had collected on the furnishings - and a new fireplace that was tucked into the far corner, an invoice folded up and left on the mantle. It, too, was gathering dust, and was now long overdue, Link saw. Bolson Construction Company read the fine lettering at the top of the parchment. He folded the paper quickly, ignoring the exorbitant price of the fireplace, and turned to see Zelda standing silently in the middle of the room, her hands tucked across her chest and her eyes wondrous, and wide.
"Do you like it?" Link ventured. "It's not much, I know."
"It's… strange," she said. Her eyes passed over the weapons mounted on the walls, over the neat kitchen and half empty bookshelves; she climbed the stairs and laughed at the framed pictures sitting on Link's dresser, chiding, "You'll need to find something more interesting to frame," and then returned with a vase she had found by his bedside, containing a now long dead flower.
"Strange?" he asked her.
"How novel it feels to be here," she answered, plucking the flower from the vase, and emptying the water into the basin in the kitchen. "Not an inn, or a camp, or a castle. But a home."
"Perhaps we're not the settling types."
"Maybe we can be," Zelda went back out into the yard, setting about plucking a handful of wildflowers for the vase. "Just for one night."
Knights! He had to bite his lip to quell his gasp; it was his father's voice again. You know nothing about them. You will never be good enough to be one of them!
He stood in vexation, unable to think or move as the cruel words drifted through his mind. Why was there no face, no name, only a voice? Who had his father been?
Cold ceramic between his palms re-woke Link as Zelda handed him the vase - now full of yellow flowers - and returned inside. As he watched her go, Link decided that when he re-entered that house, he would not open it for a single thing. He would forget the war; he would forget Cinelgen, he would forget the voice. When the sun had set there would be nothing but blackness around them, and no Hyrule to speak of. He would find his rest - mind, body and soul - with her and no-one else.
Link stepped into his home and shut the door.
The eyes fell suspicious upon Inglis as he walked into Hateno's premier establishment, a modest but somewhat cramped public house tucked in behind the town's inn. It was mid-afternoon, hardly the time one seeks a drop of wildwine or Akkalan ale, but Link and Zelda had sent him into town to search for news. He figured drink made storytellers of even the most mousey travellers, and here was where the drinkers came. If he found nothing, at least he'd have an interesting tale to pass on to his Hylian companions.
With head bowed, he approached the mantle of the bar, sliding himself into one of the tall stools. It rocked under his weight, the legs poorly balanced, and for half a moment Inglis imagined himself careening over backwards like an idiot. Get yourself a drink, he told himself. Calm these nerves.
He ordered a mug of mulled wildwine and scanned the room. Half a dozen faces. The liver-spotted barkeep with a checkered apron spooning the aromatic wildwine into a mug; a pair of young men a few barstools over, both in travellers clothes, though the one facing him was wearing what seemed to be a soldier's tunic; an older couple, man and wife, sitting by one of the yellow-tinted windows, splitting flower seed pods with their teeth and chewing the seeds like a cow to cud; and a Rito the colour of wetted ground leaning by the door and sipping from a large flagon of what looked like cocoa milk, probably resting before a journey home. Where to start. How to ask. Yes, about 6ft high, maybe higher, and Gerudo, yes! I'm just wondering how far he got! When we parted ways, he said so little... Inglis shook the wayward words from his mind and accepted the mulled wine from the barkeep, tossing a handful of rupees onto the bar. He turned to the young men, who had been arguing in low tones ever since Inglis had walked in.
"I know you don't want to go to the Castle again, but don't you think that's the most likely place they'd be?" suggested the man in the soldier's tunic.
His travelling companion huffed, and Inglis recognised his accent then as that of a northerner. Of an Akkalan! "Nell, friend, I do, I really do," the northerner muttered. "But… but—hic—I just… surely you understand?"
Inglis took a sip of the wine, feeling the warmth of it trickle down his throat and flower in his stomach, and emboldened, he cleared his throat.
"Pardon, pardon me if I'm intruding, but are you two travellers?"
By the look on his face, the northerner recognised Inglis' accent in turn. But his glare was intense, a sudden fury fading into surprise. And before Inglis could speak, he realised he recognised more than the man's accent.
Granté of Akkala smiled wide, "Inglis! You're alive! And here, in Hateno! What are the odds?"
"Quite high, where else would he go now?" the soldier interjected. He looked to Inglis, nodding. "Apologies for my friend, we're travellers, alright. Name's Nell," he extended a hand for a firm handshake and gestured limply to the northerner. "This one's Granté, though I see you've met."
"We have," Inglis nodded. He met Granté's vivid eyes, quietly wishing now that he had never come to the bar at all. "You're looking well," he managed. "Better."
"Pah," Granté waved away the assessment. "Sheikah genes. We're a little stronger than your lot."
By now, the rest of the patrons in the pub had turned to watch the reunion. Inglis sought an excuse to leave, but all he could find to say was, "W-what are you doing this far south?"
The Sheikah leaned in close, and when he spoke Inglis could almost taste the alcohol on his breath. "Father received word at the lab that Zelda proclaimed herself Queen, so Nell and I volunteered to come south to seek her out," he explained, patting his chest where there was ostensibly a hidden pocket. "We've got proof and that. Only when we reached the Castle she wasn't there, so we went to Kakariko - and ah, it was nice to finally see my ancestral home!"
"Aye, likely because of that pretty girl you met," Nell teased. "What was her name? Some kind of fruit, I think."
"Now, listen," Granté whirled around to point the finger at his friend. "I said I'd write to her about my travels and nothing more." He spun back around, a little unsteady, and it was then that Inglis noticed the trio of empty glasses by the Sheikah's side. "Anyway, anyway," he slurred. "Then we came here, in case the Princess decided on a diplomatic mission or something."
Inglis wasn't sure if he should tell them the truth, and if he did, how much of it to tell. He decided against telling them anything; after all, Zelda likely wanted to keep a low profile.
"Well, I haven't seen her," he lied, hoping the pair hadn't seen the quiver of his lips.
Both Hylians sighed in unison. "She'll turn up," Granté conceded, his face crestfallen for less than a second before he grinned again, throwing his arms wide, "But you should come back with us - to Akkala!"
Inglis almost stumbled backwards then. What a prospect! "I can't… there isn't anything there anyway."
"That's where you're wrong!" Granté informed him. "Akkala Citadel welcomes you!"
"Akkala… Citadel?" Inglis repeated. "That ruin?"
The Sheikah boy looked as though he might have built it himself. "Aye. Some great magic a few months back cleared it of its corruption. Some folks from Tarrey Town were working on restorations all through the winter. Most of our population are refugees of the war, sadly, but they were glad to host them."
Inglis could hardly believe it. Some great magic; that sounded exactly like Link and Zelda's doing. They had restored Akkala Citadel! His father had told him stories of that place as a boy, of that legendary Castle, and the legend of the last stand of the Knights of Hyrule, but… but now it was more than a legend.
You cannot. You have a job to do. You must not stray.
Inglis took a long sip of his wildwine, and then another, willing the ferment to take control. "I'm sorry, friends, but I have to decline," he said, feeling a trickle run down his chin. "I have my own work here."
Granté and Nell watched in a confused silence as he bowed, placed the half empty mug back onto the bar, and sped from the pub.
They supped on soup and bread that Zelda had purchased at the Duelling Peaks Stables and sat with full stomachs by the warmth of the new fireplace. Zelda had discovered to some excitement that her powers could ignite wood, and soon the flames were roaring in the hearth. She was poring again over her Father's journal, reading on the failed expansion of the Hylian Academy. Voswann tells me change is inevitable, Rhoam had written. Why does the Goddess deem it be so difficult? While she read, Link rested his head in her lap, the flickering light of the fire dancing on his still features. His eyes lolled open periodically as he passed between asleep and awake, until at last he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and sat up to gently stoke the fire.
"You've been a little quiet today," Zelda said. "Thoughtful, I mean."
For a moment Link pondered her words as if searching for a way to dismiss her. But finally, he said, "It's just...coming here, with you, has brought back a new feeling to this place. Well… not new." He sidled in next to her, leaning a head against her shoulder. "Old."
"Old?" She shut the journal, laying it down on the floor.
"As though this is the oldest place I know," Link answered.
"Perhaps you came here as a child."
It was the simplest explanation, really. Link agreed. "I must have. Or maybe… maybe I was born here," he gestured to the house around them. "Maybe this really was my home."
Zelda looked around the room once again; a humble enough home, too humble for the son of a Knight, surely. Link would have been raised in Castle Town, with the rest of the children whose families were in service to her father. "Are you sure nothing else brought this on?" she asked, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. He reached across to her thigh and pulled her legs onto across his lap, snuggling her in close.
"Link, talk to me," she urged and felt him sigh.
"I've been hearing my father's voice," he eventually admitted. "Ever since I arrived at the Castle. I've been hearing it again here, this evening at the house."
More memories; more ghosts. Even here, their entire world was a graveyard. "I wish I had known him. I might have been able to help you…"
Link wheezed a soft laugh. "I don't think you'd want to. His voice is… harsh. It keeps telling me I'm not enough."
"Not enough? What does that mean?"
"I don't know," Link half-growled, his frustration gnawing beneath. "All I can think is, what if my father was right? I thought, with Rhoamet, for a while, that maybe I could be more than what I was. I thought I helped him by freeing him-"
She ran a hand through his hair, and soothed, "You did."
Link shook his head, the fine strands of his hair weaving between her fingers. "All I've done is distress him. You saw his reaction to the field of dead Guardians,"
Zelda had, but what she remembered was the way Link had calmed Rhoamet with little more than a gentle hand and whispered words. "Do you want to talk about it?" she offered.
"No," He raised his eyes to meet hers, giving her a quick kiss along the line of her jaw before saying, "I don't want to talk about anything at all."
And so, turning to catch his lips with hers, Zelda ended the conversation. "Then let's not talk," she murmured in his ear, unravelling herself from him and standing with a hand outstretched. When he took it, she led him up the stairs to his loft - to his bed in the corner - though in truth they barely managed to make it, kisses fevered and hands straying.
"Let's not talk until morning," Link added, and after that, they said nothing but each other's names.
In the moonlight, they count their scars.
Three for the Princess; one, on her right shoulder. Another on her brow. A third on her leg, perhaps gained in Hebra, or Gerudo.
Countless for the Knight, on his back, on his arms, torso, legs, hands. Endless origins; endless causes.
They count scars and trade kisses, planting them where they both have been hurt. Soft lips to heal. Warm hands to soothe. Discovering parts of each other forgotten; uncovering stories in the jagged lines of once broken skin.
Beneath the blankets, alone in the world save each other, they let the scars be scars and nothing more. They feel for where it hurts, and where it doesn't. Where touch brings hollow pain and the fullness of pleasure, creating something hungrier; a demand, for each other, for everything. And it's better than it was in that study. It's better than anything ever has been. Sometimes they laugh when it's awkward, and sometimes they tremble when it's too much.
But together, when it is done, Princess and Knight know that if they gather more scars, they will not do so alone. They know, no matter how many scars they collect, they will re-meet here to count them again.
For such an extraordinary place, the Hateno Ancient Tech Lab was impressively unassuming. The only thing that marked it as anything but another one of the stately old homes of Hateno was the curious blue flame burning in the teardrop shaped furnace by the door. Zelda inspected it while Link tied up their horses, holding a hand to the fire.
"You can go in without me," he said, turning his attention now to Rhoamet, who had planted himself next to Zelda and was also examining the flame.
Zelda said nothing at first, instead chuckling nervously to herself. When Link placed a hand on her shoulder, she let out a long held breath and finally said, "Reunions! They never get any easier."
"Well, you know she isn't old old like Impa," Link said. "Though careful you don't laugh."
She drew her hand back from the flame, frowning haughtily. "I won't laugh. Purah's condition is a highly intriguing scientific phenomenon and more importantly a sensitive medical issue," she clicked her teeth. "Honestly, Link."
But when he pushed open the double doors and led her into the workshop, and when a bright little girl of six turned with an excited expression to greet them, Zelda practically squawked. Her squeal - part laughter, part shock and part childish delight - filled the research lab, and she turned so red from embarrassment that Link half thought she looked sunburnt.
"Well, there she finally is," tutted the Sheikah researcher. "One hundred years and four months late, but you are royalty after all," Purah leant forward, hands on hips and globular red eyes shining, speaking as though dispensing ancient wisdom. "The party starts when you say it starts."
The hint of sugar in his tea was a welcome, if small, pick-up. Link drank deep, finishing his first cup long before anyone else. Zelda offered Symin a sweet thank you as he refilled her cup, and then Link's, but Purah was not so impressed.
"Carefully," she scolded. "If you spill any and burn either of these children, I'll have you rewriting the ledger again!"
Fear flashed in behind Symin's round spectacles, and he gave a quick bow before scurrying away. Purah took a short sip of from her own tea and returned to her thoughtful pause for a long, silent moment. They sat around her workbench, drinking Hyrule Herb tea and munching on short cakes that Purah had apparently been saving. After a little while longer in thought, she eventually said,
"If this...Cinneygen had been here, we would have known. Even isolated as we are. After all this nonsense between the Zora and Gerudo, the Hylians are on alert for any who aren't them. Especially the kind that only shows up once every few generations."
"Gerudo males are that rare?" Link questioned. No wonder he thought himself a King.
"Oh, yes," Purah affirmed, stirring another sugar cube through her cup. "I've forgotten the exact number of years, a hundred or so? Perhaps two hundred? Though I would not be surprised if records of Gerudo males were suppressed. They still have a sore spot over that Demon King of theirs."
"Rightly so, Purah," Zelda said sternly. "It's the first story anyone learns about the Gerudo. They're always fighting it."
"Yes, even now. Else there would not be this war," Purah sighed, planting her cup back down into its saucer with a dejected clink. "Such an immense waste."
"The war?" Zelda asked. Purah shook her head.
"The Gerudo."
Zelda finished her cup once again, determinedly this time, and spoke softly, "We will find him, that I promise you. So long as Cinelgen lives, he is a threat to Hyrule… and to my throne."
Purah gazed at her, and Link thought he saw he researcher shake her head. "Well, well, look at you then. Hardly the troubled young girl my sister wrote to me about," She stood from her place and walked along the bench, taking Zelda's face into her hands.
"Impa would tell you to persist, I would tell you to abandon it all and sail west! But I see, you have your Father's eyes, girl, not in colour, but in soul. I know what you will do." She sat back down, and sipped again from her tea. "Uniting this place will not be easy, I'll say that."
Link watched Zelda's expression change, shifting from haunted grief at the mention of her father, to a strange peace and stillness. She smiled.
"That reminds me, Purah, if you'll grant me my leave," Zelda said, standing from her chair and nodding towards Purah's assistant. "Could Symin introduce me to the mayor?"
Symin walked Zelda into the town while Link remained to introduce Purah to Rhoamet. While the researcher lamented that she did not know as much about them as her colleague in Akkala, she was thrilled to meet with the first uncorrupted Guardian since her youth ('Well, since my first youth, technically').
Zelda found the apparent mayor of Hateno out the front of the Great Ton Pu Inn, his face shaded by a wide hat, and a pair of shears in his hands. He worked a row of bushes, pruning back the budding heads, lest they overcrowd and stifle the entire plant.
He listened silently and nodded slowly as Symin explained who they were, and the purpose of the meeting. When the assistant was done, he bowed again to take his leave. "Forgive me, Princess," he simpered. "Doctor Purah has asked me to look today at her finances and...well I hope you can understand."
Hiding a knowing smile, Zelda allowed him to go and turned to the mayor still working the garden.
"So… you are the one who now inhabits Hyrule Castle and calls herself Queen," he said in a voice as steady as stone. "I saw you with your companion, the Knight. He lives just over the river," he said, smacking his lips and continuing the prune the rose heads. "Though you don't, do you?"
"A pleasure to meet you…" Zelda said slowly, unsure of what to make of the mayor. He was an older man, perhaps her father's age, with bowed brown eyes and a gently lined face. He looked more a groundskeeper than a mayor, but Zelda had learned not to judge appearances these days.
"And you, Princess." The mayor bowed his head. "Leop. Humbled. I run this inn and this town."
"Leop," Zelda repeated. She straightened her coat. "If you have time, I've come to discuss the future of Hateno."
Leop laughed. "That almost sounds like a threat!" He lowered his shears. "But you do look the part, girl. My grandmother told me stories of the Princess of Hyrule. Golden hair, green eyes, much like you."
"Well, I-" she decided not to finish her sentence. This man already seemed sceptical of her, best not to blab on about her apparent resurrection. "I'd like to rebuild Castle Town, plainly, once this war is done. Hateno is currently the largest settlement in Hyrule, but it is also one of the most far flung settlements. Creating a central hub would facilitate trade, speed up travel and-"
"Take passers by from my town," Leop countered, sniping a rosebud from its stalk. "Travellers come here for respite, but they would always choose somewhere more central."
"I, well, forgive me, but," Zelda stammered, feeling a tight coil wind through her stomach. "I do not mean to take business from you."
"But you very well could. And then must we pay taxes to you and your crown? Send men to fill your armies? Escort your trade wagons?" Leop argued. To her horror, Zelda caught sight of Link approaching down the hill towards the Inn. Leop went on, "Forgive me, girl, but we have done just fine for one hundred years without a crown above our heads. Even the monsters are slowly petering out. I'm sure a new Castle Town would be splendid. But do not call on Hateno to build it for you - ah, Link! There you are."
Zelda turned to Link and tried to smile, but her face would not move. She almost felt sick, having been so succinctly rejected. I thought I was getting better at this.
Leop was not done. He had one final morsel of advice, cutting one last sprouting rose from the bush. "The Hylians value their survival above all, Princess. Show us your strength, and we will come to you." With a short bow to both herself and Link, Leop packed up his shears, bid them a good day, and returned to his inn.
Zelda placed her head in her hands, "Well, I honestly don't know what I expected. Pledge your town to help some unknown! Of course he'd laugh in my face."
"Well, he didn't give you an absolute no." Link soothed, placing an arm around her shoulders.
"I know. I know." Zelda did not want to whine. "But we're on our own - until we prove ourselves worthy."
Link chuckled. "Isn't that what we've always done? Haven't we already begun on that path?"
Zelda raised her head to look at the stately old inn, and thought, even this was not here once. She had to concede that Link was right. There was a turn of phrase on her tongue, she'd heard him say it a long while ago, but could not place it. From somewhere, to anywhere else, the only place to begin is the start.
But before she could happen upon the phrase, Inglis can bounding out of the Inn. "There you are!" he cried. "I have news!"
Link and Zelda turned to receive the Akkalan marching towards them. "Have you been to Akkala Citadel?" he practically demanded.
"Aye, a few months back," Link answered. "Why…?"
"It's been re-opened!" Inglis beamed. "All that purple shit was cleared out, and now people are living there!"
Zelda's hands slowly dropped from her face as she took in the words. "People?"
Inglis pointed to the inn. "I met some travellers, some Akkalans who-" and just as he turned, two young men were exiting the inn, laughing and chatting jovially between themselves, their packs strapped to their backs. Zelda recognised one as the soldier's son they had met at the Citadel, and the other as a Sheikah.
"Some Akkalans?" laughed Link, waving the travellers over, and soon all four were again exchanging hugs and pleasantries, with the two young men taking a short moment to bow before Zelda when they approached. The Sheikah ruffled Inglis' hair, grinning, "You scoundral! Keeping them from us!"
The soldier's son introduced himself as Nell, recalling the day they had met on the East Battlements of Akkala Citadel, and the Sheikah as Granté of Akkala, Robbie's son.
"Robbie's...son!?" Zelda half cried, unable still to picture any of her Sheikah allies as anything but their younger selves. "Of course! You...you look so much like him!"
She forgot Cinelgen then, and she forgot her disastrous meeting with the mayor. As Nell and Granté began to explain the works at the Citadel, her eyes flashed, filled with the visions of the kingdom she could build.
It was just as Link said; they had already begun.
"Surely for someone who'd stand out, he'd be easier to find!" Nell plonked his tankard down on the rough-grain wood of the table inside the public house, the dark ale slopping about the rim.
"We've only been looking for a few weeks," Zelda countered.
Another dead end, according to Inglis. No one in town reported having seen anyone even remotely like Cinelgen.
Link, Zelda, and their three Hylian companions had decided to hold a strategy meeting over a shared pot of crab stew and a jug of ale, though Link could not find a liking for the bitter drink. Stay sharp, his Father's voice said. Sharper than your sword.
"Something Leop said has been stuck in my mind," he piped up. "'Show them your strength, and they'll come to you'."
Zelda looked wounded by the words, the disappointment still new. "What do you mean?" She said in a small voice.
"Cinelgen wanted the Divine Beasts under his control right?" Link began, addressing the table. "There's one Beast we haven't visited yet."
Inglis' eyes went wide, and he let out a disbelieving puff. "You want to go to Eldin, again?"
Link nodded and understanding his plan, Zelda's protest was immediate. "No, it's too dangerous."
"Do you really think Yunobo would use his Divine Beast to fight?" he argued, quieting the voice that reminded him how fervently Yunobo's predecessor, Daruk, had devoted himself to protect Hyrule.
She mulled over the idea, but seemed unconvinced, staring into her still half-full cup of ale. "There is still a risk," she said, and though Link could not help but agree, he could think of no better plan.
"Think about it, Zel," he urged. "We first encountered Cinna the very day we inducted Sidon. We do the same with Yunobo and Rudania, and maybe he'll just come to us!"
"With however many men he has, undoubtedly," Granté added. "Could be quite the fight."
All eyes fell on Inglis; he answered the unspoken question, "Aurelia took his Yiga. Cinna only has his followers, what few are left."
Link cracked a smile. "We have a chance then. We'll go to Eldin, wake up Rudania, and hope that Cinelgen shows himself." He looked to Zelda for her approval, and while the concern was held on her face, she nodded.
"Searching isn't enough anymore, we have to lay a trap," and at her word, the decision was made.
The Goron brawler threw his huge arms wide and gathered all three Hylians into a hug when he saw them, saying, "You guys! You're actually here!"
The vibrancy that radiated from Yunobo was alone enough to quell any last minute concerns Zelda might have had about this mission. She had dreamt all night of how their plan might go wrong; of how the peaceful beast might suddenly rage, spitting fire like a dragon of the mountain, or how it might suddenly betray them, turning to leap back into the lava.
"You know, I wasn't sure when you summoned me," Yunobo said, releasing them. "But seeing the old Beast again just makes me so excited!"
The wait for their Goron Champion had not been long; by Yunobo's own account he had left for Eldin the minute the Rito courier had arrived with the letter of summoning. And their journey had not been direct. Despite his Guardian's low maintenance and hardy constitution, Link drew the line at taking Rhoamet up Death Mountain. Not only would their hike along the rocky mountain paths be precarious enough without a giant automaton to look after, the road would take them through the Maw - where there would be more people, and pertinently, more dead Guardians.
They had decided instead to leave Rhoamet with the Sheikah, with Granté and Nell remaining to watch over him. He just wants to talk to that Pawpaw girl, Nell had snided.
Paya had met them at the base of the stairs into her grandmother's house, shaking from what could have just as easily been joy as it was fear. Zelda had expected her, like the others, to cower at the sight of the Guardian. But when she smiled - and said, overjoyed, "Is that a Guardian!?" - she realised the reason none in Kakariko would fear Rhoamet. He is a Sheikah too. They are kin.
And so it was easy enough to convince Impa to let them leave Rhoamet in Kakariko while they travelled north to Eldin. Time was sadly so short; as much as Zelda wanted to stay, and find one more day's respite in the hidden village, they were all acutely aware that Cinelgen could be anywhere, and could appear at any moment.
Divine Beast Vah Rudania remained asleep and perched over the lip of Death Mountain when they approached. A remote diagnostic told her that he had entered a low-power state.
"How long as Rudania been asleep?" she asked Yunobo as they made the final hike to the Beast.
"A month or so?" he answered. "I'm not so great with time."
"Is something wrong with him?" Inglis asked tersely. Zelda pointed to the long seeps of Malice emerging out from between the crevices of Rudania's segmented face.
"He does not sleep voluntarily. That Malice has made it to his inner workings. I saw something similar with Vah Medoh."
The induction process would come first. Zelda was uncertain about performing the Cleansing Ritual on Rudania while he still sat perched on the lip of Death Mountain - afraid somewhat that they might unwittingly send him back into the volcano.
"It's been a little while since I studied elixirs," she added. "But I'm fairly sure fireproof elixirs will not also make us lava proof."
But they could not induct a pilot to an unconscious Beast. Once they had made it inside, she held a naked palm to Rudania's main control unit, letting her power flow into the nexus.
"Wake up," she whispered.
Like Medoh before him, controlled even if momentarily by the power of the Three on Zelda's right hand, Rudania awakened, the inner chamber filling with light and the joints of his vast body creaking from disuse.
Keeper. I awaken to follow your command.
"If you follow my command, then you will follow the command of my ally, Yunobo," Zelda addressed the Beast. Inglis and Yunobo were watching with muted amazement, while Link instead continued scanning the Beast with the Sheikah Slate - he had seen such an exchange before.
I am ready. Unveil your Champion.
Before they began the induction process, Inglis asked, "Would I be able to? It's just so fascinating…"
"More than welcome to!" Zelda smiled, happy to have a student. She stepped him through the process; where Yunobo should stand, the right setting on the Slate, the induction process itself, and Inglis was a fast learner.
"Ready when you are, big guy," he said.
Yunobo gave a quick salute. "Ready!"
It was over in a second, without so much as a sound, and soon Yunobo was giddily leading his Divine Beast down the side of Goron mountain, his Hylian companions struggling to maintain their balance on the steep incline. They settled on a line of cliffs that overlooked Hyrule Field, facing westwards, with Zelda happily calling the induction a success.
"Yunobo of Goron City, I officially induct you into the role of pilot of Divine Beast Vah Rudania. Now, if you will allow us…" Zelda extended an arm to Link, who was already unsheathing his sword. "We have one more Ritual to perform."
The change felt almost natural now; she was back, in the elsewhere. Zelda had preemptively removed her glove before beginning the Cleansing Ritual, and so now the Other Place shone as soon as she entered. The skies were an orange-gold, just as the last time she had seen them.
"Are you now ready to see what I promised to show you?" said the hooded woman. She was stood before the pedestal again, and this time Zelda saw that it was made of glass.
"I don't know," Zelda admitted. "How could I know?"
"We never do," the hooded woman sighed. She placed her hand on the pedestal.
Suddenly, Zelda's vision was filled with light; hundreds, if not thousands of echoes of past lives and other times filling passing before, swarming her. Zelda closed her eyes, distraught by what she saw.
"You must look!" the woman bellowed. "You must understand!"
And so, hesitant, but unafraid, Zelda looked.
It was a symphony. A thousand faces, a thousand lives. A boy, and a girl, and a kingdom. Sometimes held skyward, sometimes broken by time, sometimes adrift at sea, shrouded in twilight and darkness, or shielded by light and prosperity; through chaos, and peace, and war.
"W-what is this!?" Zelda cried.
The woman was gone. Only her voice remained. "This is Hyrule. This is you. Your history and your legend."
The visions were nearly impossible to parse, but in almost every image, almost every life - the Sword. The same sword that Zelda now held. Wielded by a warrior with an unbreakable spirit. Zelda gazed up at the faces and focused on the boy. Time had changed him from one life to the next; sometimes young or sometimes old, sometimes stoic, or cheeky, or lazy. But it was him. Amongst the faces was the one she knew. Eyes closed, his face turned towards a golden light.
"Link!" she breathed.
"Look beyond!" ordered the woman. "Who else do you see?"
Zelda tore her eyes away to study the wisps of history before her. In every life, she saw, almost always at the boy's side in one way or another, was a girl. A Princess, with destiny stamped onto her right hand. These are my sisters, she thought as she looked at the myriad of women before her. My kin.
"H-how many times have we done this, then?" Zelda asked, harrowed by what she had seen. "How many lives have we lived?"
The woman reappeared before her, face downcast with what almost seemed like shame. "Infinite," she said.
"So...so we will never stop fighting, then?! Even if we triumph now, Hyrule is doomed to fall once more, each and every time?"
The woman did not hesitate. "Yes," she said, as though the word was law.
"Then...then why bother!?" Zelda searched the visions for an end, a finale, but found none. "Why fight when we know we will eventually lose!?"
The visions converged into a single moment; the swing of a sword, cutting down a centre of darkness, and a sphere a light to swallow it whole. "Each victory may be followed by loss," the hooded woman said. "But each loss is followed by victory. All that matters is the peace in between."
Zelda could feel her hand burning where the golden crest was marked. She wanted to shield her eyes again, but could not look away. "You think I can bring them peace? For how long?"
"A single year of peace can be worth a hundred at war," the woman appeared before the pedestal again, and with another touch to the iridescent glass, the visions dissipated.
"You cannot prevent Ganon's return," her voice was crisp against the sudden silence. "But you can prepare for it. The Sheikah succeeded, ten thousand years ago, where your people failed. They walked a new path to victory. Hyrule needs these new paths, or history to learn from will become legend to be revered, as it has since the dawn of time. And then nothing will be gained."
Zelda could still see flashes of what she had been shown; the wheel on which time seemed to flow, the torrent that seemed to carry her people through its motions. If there is a way to make an end…
"Tell me what I must do," she said.
The hooded woman urged Zelda over to the glass pedestal, and with each step that she took, Zelda saw the light dance within the glass like ripples on a lake.
"The Champion - he is struggling still with himself," the woman explained. "There is a memory he must see, but not his own. Without it, he cannot make the decision that will lead him to the truth he desires."
Looking down into the glass, Zelda saw the shade of her reflection gazing back, "I can see...the past? All of it?" she asked, holding her hand above the pedestal.
"Just as I have shown you. We are not restricted here, by place, or time. We are unbidden."
All of history at her palm. So much she wanted to see. Her Father, her mother, her home...but at last she remembered. She had no home if she did not complete this mission. "Help me find Cinelgen," she commanded.
The woman stammered. "T-That isn't-"
"Help me."
"...lower your hand," the woman relented. "Focus. Think on his face. That's how you will find him."
Zelda lowered her hand and closed her eyes, remembering. She had only met Cinelgen twice, but his was not a face to forget. When she opened them, she was...back in Necluda. Somewhere amongst the mountains. Only she smelt smoke. She heard screams. She turned, and then she saw - Cinelgen on his horse, leading a charge into the village, his men at his back and a dozen Yiga in pursuit. She saw a white haired woman with one eye, and Yiga's unmasked, all converging on a sloping hill leading into the mountains. It was the past, but only a step backwards, rather than the bounds that the hooded woman had taken her. Perhaps only a few minutes, or seconds even. No matter the exactness of it, Zelda knew what she saw was true. And she knew - they had gone the wrong way.
The Ritual ended with a burst of light, but no sooner than it was done did Zelda turn to flee Rudania. Link called out after her, but she did not stop, bolting out of the Beast and across the rocky cliffs. There was barely time to sheathe his sword; Link ran after her, hearing the crunch of rocks behind him as Yunobo and Inglis followed.
"We need to go, Link," she said frantically, scanning the horizon.
"What did you see?" Link pressed. Zelda had told him of the visions she had seen in this...Other Place, and how she only seemed to reach it when she held the Sword. She had sung during this Ritual too - apparently another part of the puzzle.
"He's nearby! Necluda!" she stumbled, nearly falling, and Link managed to leap forward just in time to catch her. Only when they'd both been steadied did he realise what she had said.
"Necluda!?" he breathed. "But we were just-" he looked up towards the line of mountains in the distance. "Inglis, where would Cinna be-" Link felt a shuffle at his belt, and he jumped to his feet, spinning around to see Inglis with the Sheikah Slate in hand.
"I'm sorry," Inglis whispered, scurrying backwards to a nearby pool of lava, holding the Slate over the gurgling molten. He was sobbing, his cheeks patched red and slick with wet tears. Link understood immediately, mentally chiding himself for not thinking it sooner. He still belongs to Cinna.
"He said he'd have his men kill Mila," Inglis said, lips quivering as he sobbed. "He said he didn't need her now that he'd lost the Yiga. But he needed this." Inglis shook the Slate, and Link heard a strangled cry from Zelda.
Yunobo shifted forwards, but Inglis lowered the Slate above the lava. "If anyone moves I'll drop it! I will! I'll tell him you did it, or I'll just kill him myself!" He hurriedly opened the map on the Slate, selecting a travel waypoint seemingly at random.
"Inglis…" Link said slowly. "Don't."
The Akkalan shook his head, "I have to. I have no choice."
"You knew where he was all along, didn't you?" Zelda accused.
"Aye, pray you never need lie to a friend, Princess," Inglis said, his eyes never leaving Link. "But there's still time. Cinna won't anticipate a Guardian."
Kakariko. Link turned back towards Necluda and saw now what Zelda was looking for. Thick black smoke, rising high from the mountains of Lantern Lake.
"You can still save them," Inglis went on, a rueful smile on his lips, fattening his sunken cheekbones. Link winced; such rich pain, to see that smile again.
Inglis laughed, chuckling at a joke only he understood, "You know what, Link, I expect nothing less." And with a swift tap on the Sheikah Slate, he disappeared.
A/N: Hey friends! Apologies for the delay! The long and short is I got hit pretty hard with some new life responsibilities that I didn't anticipate a few months ago! I'm still working on FTGU, but just much slower.