Hey y'all. I know that its been a LOOOOOONG time. I miss you all so much! And before any of you ask, no, I have not yet gotten a new computer yet. But my dad is letting me use his computer sometimes, so I was finally able to piece this last chapter of part 2 together. It's probably at least a month more of spotty-ness on here, since my family is going through a really tight patch, monetarily speaking. But I hope you enjoy this last chapter. I'm personally not proud of it, but I hated this whole part anyway. I want assure all of you that part 3, part 4 and part 5 are SOOOOO much better than this.

Chapter 21.

Uncaring Moon

He stood before the great stone doors that led to her chambers. He had never known how frightening it could be. Now he understood why the others had given him such solemn looks when his name had been called. In comparison to the others, he was young. Twenty-three years to the day.

A rather sad birthday if you asked him. It hadn't even been his choice to join the ranks. It had been one of cruel fate.

But regardless, here he stood, staring with vacated eyes at the gray stone doors, pupils darting over the crude drawings scrawled into the surface. In the dim light of a torch several feet further down the hall, he could understand only a fraction of the drawings, but even that sliver was enough to make him queasy. Perhaps that was what they were meant to do. Play with a person's mind before they even crossed the threshold. Not that their Mistress needed any help with the playing of minds.

She truly was a master of games of the mind.

Some said that a person was doomed before they even set foot near her. That there was something in her aura that ran rings around a person's sanity, and clouded a person's judgment until it was too late, only coming-to when the mistress's blade was stabbed into their chests. Only allowed a few split seconds of consciousness before they were swept into the darkness that laid in wait beyond the mortal coil.

His hand brushed for the first time against the cold metal doorknocker, his heart coursing faster and faster within the cradle of his ribcage. How had it come to this? Although she was incredibly powerful, having been, in a sense, revived by the untrustworthy shadow woman, her strength still wasn't that of what it had used to be, and using her dark magic was invariably draining. It had come to be a norm that after extensive use of her magic, she would sleep for days on end, and waking her from one of these slumbers was known to be lethal.

His fingers wrapped, unwillingly, but nonetheless firmly around the thin iron, and slowly, he knocked. The hollow echo rang in his ears. Somehow, despite his gentle use of the doorknocker, the sound came out as loud as any human's ears could handle. As if it was fire, he released the metal as soon as he could, and took a few shaking steps backward, soon butting up against the opposite wall.

He allowed his hands to roam over the cold stones, fingers gripping at the crevasses, uncaring of the sticky, unknown substances that inlaid themselves underneath his fingernails. He swore he could hear her coming already. The blood in his veins ran cold when the door creaked on old, rusted hinges, and a first glimpse of the pitch-blackness beyond grew larger as one half of the double doors swung open.

Their mistress, his mistress, was shorter than most of them. And yet a giant now stood before him. Looming in the doorway, shoulders slumped, and even in the darkness, her red pupils and unsettling yellow animal irises glowing against the black.

"What the hell do you want at this hour?" She snapped, eyes flashing even brighter.

"M-mistress," he stuttered, mentally cursing himself as he did so. " Master Odolwa has sent word from the south. He has said that he is severally injured. He requests that he be allowed to fall back and heal his wounds here."

Her icy glare was set on him now, flickering with the anger of a disgruntled mother whose children had disobeyed despite her warnings.

"Send his messenger back!" she shouted, her shrill, inhuman voice piercing his ears like a thousand knives. "Either he fights or he dies! No warrior of mine will be allowed such lenience! And how dare you call upon me at this hour to tell me news such as this?"

He froze when she stepped beyond the threshold, bare feet making naught but a sound on the rough stones hewn into the floor.

"I-I was just doing as Master Vash ordered. H-he was the one who received the message."

Her look was that of icy hatred, and his body shook as she drew ever nearer, until her face was only inches from his. He swallowed roughly, cold sweat dripping down the back of his neck when her hand traced the muscles in his neck, resting her pointed, claw-like nails directly over his jugular.

"I should behead both of you for this," she mused, pressing down against his throat. "But alas! I must reserve my strength for future battles," and with that, she swept aside with a single, graceful turn, dragging her sharp nails across his skin as she did. He concealed a grunt of pain as shallow scratches were left where her fingers once had rested. "Leave me. My body grows weary, wake me again, and I will kill you all."

He watched, back pressed as hard as he could possibly muster against the wall, fingers gripping the rough stones. She strode into her chambers without another word, the door slamming behind her, and with it, making him heave a sigh of relief.

Now all that was left was to relay what Mistress Majora had said to the messenger. Within the cavity of his chest, a violent, uncompromising mixture of both pride that he had (mostly, that is) kept his cool, and the sense that something very bad was brewing. Something that neither side, good nor bad was fighting for.

At least he had survived. For now…

Was this all real? Some gnawing feeling in the back of her mind refused to believe that this was true. I mean, come on! She thought ruefully, smacking aside several leafy sections of undergrowth to provide herself with enough space to pass. Was she really supposed to believe all this? First Link went missing, then her sister died. Not to suspicious, right? But almost as soon as she entered their neighbor kingdom, she's kidnapped by shadows? A race of people she had thought only resided in Hyrule. Now she was stuck in a damned swamp, with no water to drink, an ethereal panther (that could talk, by the way) and a crazy, murderous demon on the loose that she was supposed to kill.

No problem…right?

It was all a little too unrealistic, if you asked her. At one point in her life, she might have believed it. But as she had aged, her mind had grown more skeptical of the occult.

"If this is all a game, this isn't funny!" She shouted to the sky, to the uncaring moon, for any ears that might hear her.

But why would it be a game? She just didn't know any more. Some would tell her to just go with the flow, roll with the punches.

She had never been very good at that.

She was the kind of person who didn't want the world telling her what to do. She wanted to be in control of her life.

With another swipe, she suddenly broke through the underbrush, nearly falling forward as her balance was taken from her. She stumbled several feet to catch herself, boot-clad feet sliding out from underneath her when she hit a patch of what from her angle looked like mud. She gave a frustrated yelp when her center of gravity was thrown in the opposite direction, falling back, arms swinging, landing in the pool of sloppy mud.

"Ugh." She moaned, allowing herself to fall completely, head hitting the ground with a small splash in the groundwater. She allowed her eyes to wander. She was at what looked like the summit of a mountain, at least from memory of Death Mountain. Low walls of earth blocked in the clearing, and several feet away, a massive lake of the poisoned water ebbed at the walls. Above her, the sky had clouded over, blocking out the full moon that had been looming low overhead, and somewhere in the distance, thunder cracked, a faint glimmer of light from a lightning strike illuminating the tops of the trees. She hadn't even noticed the storm brewing. It looked like it was near the ranch. I hope Cyrus is taking good care of Kara and Rinku.

I hope that they aren't too worried. Kara was so bubbly and scatterbrained –as most children her age were- that she probably hadn't even noticed. But Rinku, even with being three years junior to his sister, was already more in touch with his surroundings. He noticed things that sometimes even his parents did not, like the subtle motions of a horse's ears, or the grasshoppers beneath their feet. He had definitely noticed her absence.

Lost in yearning thoughts of her children, Malon did not notice that that supposed "mud" that she had fallen into was warm. Almost as warm –if not warmer- then her own body. It was only after her thoughts began to dwindle that this came to mind. She lifted one hand from her side, holding it up to the faint light of the night for inspection.

What she saw made her skin crawl.

She wasn't lying in mud. She was lying in blood. Thick, tarry black blood.

"Gross!" She screamed, jumping clumsily to her feet as fast as she could without tipping forward instead. Looking down, she could see that the blood had stained the tunic she had received from the panther from collar to skirt hem. Reaching back and pulling her braid forward, she found that even her hair had been dyed a strange shade of purple where the blood had touched it.

I was considering a new hairstyle, but this was NOT what I had in mind!

She screamed again when a horrifying, blood-curdling screech shook her from a mere few feet away. Standing in front of her was the demon from before, a fresh wound on his –she assumed it was a "he"- collarbone, black blood much like the kind she had fallen in draining from the massive gash. She could only guess that Jack had been the one who had inflicted it. She could only hope that he had survived.

"You again."

The demon stood statue-still as her fingers wrapped round the hilt of the sword that hung at her hip. Another flash of lighting struck, much closer this time, and illuminated the demon's masked face, revealing a fresh crack in the wood that concealed his identity.

"You could leave. I don't have to kill you. I don't want to kill you."

The demon answered, thus condemning them both to battle, with a vicious, rage-fueled swipe of his claws, the very tips digging into the flesh of her right cheek, directly beneath her eye, sending her reeling backward and unable to defend herself from yet another blow. This one attacking her side, ripping through the fabric of her tunic like a heated knife through butter and slicing into the skin below.

She knew the terrors of battle. Link had brought her very close to the gruesome reality. But other when the traitorous Seth had sliced her ankle, she had never been the one to take the blows.

Instinct kicked in more suddenly then she had ever expected it would, a sudden, primal voice screaming in her ears, one telling her to fight. Her flight instinct had taken a back seat this time. Now she wanted to fight.

The sword she had been given was drawn in mere seconds, and in only a few more, it's sharpened blade had been jabbed full-force at the demon. To her dismay, the demon was still smart enough to dodge, the edge of her blade only nipping at his hardened skin. Nonetheless, the demon gave an enraged growl, and whipped around at her, lunging this time with both sets of claws, aimed straight at her chest. She had to think fast.

In a last ditch effort, she dropped to the ground, using her forward momentum to slide a few feet in the blood before digging her free hand into the soaked ground, searching for something to grab hold of, something to steady herself with. Finally finding one of the roots of the trees that grew nearby, she swung her weight toward the demon again, his back still toward her, slow to realize what she had done. With the sword poised to stab directly into the beast's heart –if he had one- she flung herself at him…

Her breath came in wavering, unsteady gasps that made her lungs feel like they were going to bleed. Sweat trickled down the middle of her back, and across her arms, stinging the numerous cuts that littered her body, from head to toe. Her muscles quivered, threatening to give out with ever move she made. It must have been hours since the battle begun. It felt like days. The demon had sustained a fair amount of cuts from her sword, but his composure, at least what he had had before hand, remained.

He was winning.

She felt like she was going to collapse. She honestly didn't know how much longer she could hold out for.

The demon took another, surprisingly well-aimed swing at her, and this time ripped into her shoulder. Her balance was thrown off again by sheer force of the blow, her feet sliding in the pool of blood that had amassed throughout their battle.

She fell back again, this time fighting for all her worth to stay at least semi-upright, jutting the sword in front of herself to act as a guard against the demon, rightfully fearing that he might attack whilst she was down. He leapt forward again, like a hunger-crazed predator going in for the kill. Her eyes widened, focused entirely on the demon as he charged, not noticing the streak of black darting behind the demon.

The panther, body bunching into a tight ball and then stretching as far as its muscles could go as it ran, charged toward the bloody, raven-haired man that had approached from the opposite side of what it knew was called Woodfall. He stopped, one knife in hand, dead in his tracks, his face contorting into one of fear when the large beast drew near.

"This isn't your fight, human." The panther spat in its ethereal voice, snapping its jaw at him, fangs clicking against one another. Ignoring the pain in his shoulder, the sick, warm-yet-chilling feeling of his own blood slowly trickling from the wound McKenna –or the shadow woman's- blade had made, he looked beyond, unto where the demon was attacking Malon, where she was seated, fighting to protect herself.

"Yes it is. She's dying out there!" He made a move to step past the beast, only to be blocked yet again, this time receiving a fierce snarl of warning. The panther's ears had flattened against its thickly muscled neck, lips pealed back, baring the yellow fangs nestled in the fleshy pink gums.

"Don't interfere!"

"I'll do whatever I damn-well please! You aren't my deity!"

Before the panther could react, he arced his arm back, and flung the knife at the demon. The blade whistled through the air, too fast for the panther to stop, and with a sick sound, it buried deep into the exact middle of the demon's back, just above the wound that he had made just over half-an-hour earlier. But this time the knife went deeper. An agonized screech so loud that the thunder seemed to bow ripped from the demon's voice box. He threw his head back and wailed, shoulders bunched up toward his neck in violent spasms, massive hands clawing at his sides as he fell with a mighty thud.

Malon looked on in wide-eyed horror, the beast screaming in his death throws. It was only after the demon's body stilled that she noticed Jack standing there, and the puzzle pieces were locked together in mind. However, she hadn't even found her footing when the panther charged at her, a fierce anger in its yellow eyes.

"You were the one supposed to kill it!" It snarled. At she stared at it, it almost seemed to have grown. The last she had seen it, it's head had come up to her neck when she was standing.

Now they were eye-to-eye.

Its fur seemed to have changed hues as well. What had once been a pleasant shade of ebony had darkened to the blackest of black. An evil shade.

"Your friend ruined my plan!" It screeched. She stumbled back as it leapt over the demon's lifeless body. Blood suddenly began to pool in the cavity of its throat. Its eyes were draining color, until only the ghostly whites were left. Blood the same color of the demon's spilled over the panther's lips, splashing onto the ground below.

"Plan?" She asked in a high-pitched squeak, dodging as the beast swatted at her with a gargantuan paw.

"I almost had you! You would've been dead if he hadn't thrown that damned knife! You believed me! I had you all fooled!"

It leapt at her, paws slamming against her shoulders, pinning her to the ground. Over the panther's heavy breathing, she could faintly hear Jack scream her name.

"I touched your mind! I saw what you fear! I was so close! I could have been a god! I could have-!"

The beast never finished its sentence. A primitive, but indefinitely lethal arrow lodged into its skull, breaking through the thick bone and burying into its brain. It wasn't even able to utter a final screech of death. It's functions halted abruptly, body convulsing as it fell aside, into the already formed pool of blood.

"What the hell?!" She heard Jack say, but all she could do was lay still, shivers of fright and exhaustion wracking her body.

From beyond the veil of heavy foliage, the teenage boy stepped out, a rudimentary bow clutched in his hand, another arrow notched, ready to be shot at a moments' notice. He trained the arrow on the panther's body as he came over to them, never letting his eyes dart from the dead beast. This arrow was trained on the beast's heart.

"Good thing I kept this." He muttered under his breath, staring at the beast.

Shortly after Malon stood, the underbrush rustled again, and this time, the girl emerged, eyes widening at the gory sight before her, both the demon, and the deity dead in a pool of blood.

"What happened? Why is the deity dead?!"

Malon watched as the girl broke into a run, racing to the panther's side.

"Don't touch it!" The boy called Monek yelled, dropping the bow and instead grabbing her by the shoulders and swinging her away from the panther.

"Monek! Release me now!" she snapped at him, squirming in his grip. He only tightened his arms around her shoulders.

"It's no deity."

She stopped squirming, but instead, turned a incredulous, disbelieving stare on him.

"…What are you talking about?"

"I never should have let you go after that bastard of a panther. Don't you remember? The panther deity died hundreds of years ago, the same time that the hero did. ."

A first, she didn't seem to believe him, but as his words sunk in, a look of astonishment pulled at her features. She remained silent for a moment, her astonishment melting into that of sheepishness. Both adults gently averted their gazes as she hid her face against his chest, causing the boy's cheeks to turn a rather unflattering shade of pink. After a few moments, he looked toward the panther-imposter's lifeless body, his gaze being followed by everyone who stood there.

"…Then," Malon started slowly. "What was that thing?"

"I don't know."

As they left, not a single one of them noticed the unknown man lurking in the bushes, watching them as they left, and creeping toward the bodies once they were out of earshot…

When the doors to her throne room opened, every single head turned. No one had been expecting the gangly young man. Some merely looked on with curiosity, but others bore a look of fiery distrust as he carried himself across the granite floors. His dirt-brown hair messy and in disarray, his face bony and hollow, malnourishment surely being the cause. His tattered clothes hung loosely from his slender frame, his jerky, staggering stride making some of the crowd nervous.

She remained seated, bringing one leg up over the other to cross them in a purposely-demure action. The crowd parted for the stranger, allowing him access to the throne, a thousand pairs of unfriendly eyes watching his every move.

From either side of her throne, a tall, well-muscled youth crept from the shadows, walking in a crouch, heads held low, arms spread wide, blades jutting from the knuckles of their fingerless gloves. One was a woman, the other a man, but both shared their facial features. Both had hair as black as a raven's feathers, greasy and ungroomed, eyes the same shade as their mistress, but a more violent, animalistic hue. Their faces were angular, coming to harsh points at the tips of their chins, with strong, rounded noses and pronounced cheekbones.

Twins.

They stopped a few feet after passing the throne, the woman staying crouched, the man straightening to his full height, looming several feet taller than the man who approached.

He stopped only when the man made a move to strike him back.

"Lady Majora of The Cursed East," he started, his voice ringing clear in the utter silence of the throne room. "I bring word from the south."

When he paused, she allowed her chin to dip just a bit toward her chest, a sign of recognition.

"Master Odolwa has fallen, your grip on the south is no more."

A collective gasp spread through the room like a virus, only ineffective on the three before him. They didn't even flinch.

"However," he reached for the satchel slung over his shoulder. The woman on the throne allowed one elegantly arched eyebrow to rise with interest. "I found this buried within his flesh."

He produced a small, green gemstone, round and smooth, and shimmering as a faint ray of sunlight hit it. Within seconds of holding it out to the light of day, the man had snatched it from his hand, the blades grazing his palm. He could only watch as the man turned, and placed it within his mistress's hand.

She looked at it, turning it over several times, testing its weight between her fingertips, a look of satisfaction on her face.

"Itachi," she said, drawing her man's attention. An evil smirk was pulling at the corners of her mouth, a smile that made his stomach churn. "Why don't you show our guest some hospitality?"

He didn't even have time to react. All he saw was a streak of motion, of fluttering fabric and drawn knives.

The entire crowd watched without emotion as the young messenger was killed on the spot, and listened as their mistress laughed coldly in the face of the unknown young man, as he was brutally murdered where he stood, smirked as he fell, limp to ground.

"Ina, send a messenger to the north. Goht must prepare…"

So there you have it. The crappy end to a crappy arc. I hope I didn't disappoint you all too much. There will be a little more explanation in part 5 of how this wraps up.

Character songs:

Malon

Ship To Wreck by Florence & The Machine

Majora

First by Cold War Kids.

Shout out to everyone who's sticking with even through this rough patch! But especially Link'sLily and Courage Of Awesome! If you need stories that update at a faster rate, read their stories! They're both incredible writers!

Oh, and if I made it too obscure, the panther was actually a split consciousness of Odolwa. Think of it like whatever those things were that Voldemort used in Harry Potter, back up plans, plus a way to trick Malon and the others into fighting for his own side. Yeah, half-baked just like the rest of this damn part...