Sounds of debate faded behind us as our captors marched us away, back down the dark corridor that led to the debate hall that was once the lair of Phantom Ganon. We came to a room (spacious, but small compared to the chamber we had left) wherein the mysterious elevator contraption waited to take us back up. But instead of taking it we were lead into a side chamber. I vaguely recalled my adventures in this place, searching the Temple for treasure: maps, keys, Rupees, and of course the Fairy Bow. The small side-room we were herded into once held a treasure chest, though its contents I could not recall and in any case there was nothing within now but dusty crates of unremarkable supplies.

Though a large coterie of armed guards had led us to this waiting room, only three entered the room itself with us, with the rest returning whence they came. The guards motioned for us to be seated. I wondered to myself if the reduced guard force—Caelb had assigned several times this number to escort us to the moot itself—was a sign of growing trust, or a sign of contempt with regard to our possible threat. I looked the three Kokiri over: two men and a woman, each with a crossbow slung across their backs and a small sidearm—a rondel or hatchet—at their hip. Their weapons were not readied for immediate combat. We were at some distance from any other Kokiri. The noise of the ongoing debate would provide substantial cover for the sound of a struggle. The Master Sword, still tied in its scabbard, rested in my lap.

I seriously considered launching an attack against them, weighing the benefits and consequences carefully; I could tell that Zelda sensed the opportunity as well. If we could overpower our captors and make it to the elevator, we could ascend and try to make an escape from the Forest Temple. It would probably be mostly deserted, with every Kokiri available in attendance at the moot. Those were the positive points.

However, it would ultimately be a foolish plan. Even if we could overcome the three Kokiri—by no means a guarantee, especially with my wounded leg—escaping the maze-like Temple would not be easy...and to where would we escape? Into the hellish frozen woods, that we had barely survived on our first encounter? Furthermore, we had nothing but the clothes we wore and the Master Sword that I had refused to part with. The Kokiri had confiscated everything else: my shield, Zelda's bow, Din's Fire, the tools we needed to survive. And we would be leaving without the most important thing, the thing we had come to find: Saria, the Sage. Our perilous trip here would be for naught, and worse, Saria would undoubtedly suffer retribution for our actions. All of this was unacceptable.

The Kokiri guards seemed to sense our scrutiny. I did not want a repeat of the incident with Caelb's troops in the courtyard. Dialogue seemed to me to be the answer.

"Listen," I said imploringly. "I just want to know one thing. Just one question."

Two of our captors, the woman and one of the males, did not make eye contact and maintained their stoic vigil, pointedly ignoring me. But the third, young and nervous, glanced in my direction.

"What happened to the fairies of Kokiri?" I begged. "Where did they go? Why do none of you have them with you?"

The grim duo remained silent. But the third said quietly, "They're gone."

"Yes, I can see," I said, "but why?"

The two silent ones looked sternly at the timorous third, wordlessly trying to keep him from answering me. But he did not acknowledge them, and after a short pause, he said in a low voice, "Who knows? They all disappeared in the wake of the Gerudo..."

"No one noticed it?" I asked him incredulously. "No one could stop it?"

"Don't you think we had other things on our mind?" he snapped back. "By the time we had our wits about us and could spare a thought toward them, we—"

"Shut up," said the girl, cutting him off.

"But..."

"Why are you telling him this?" the other male Kokiri guard asked briskly.

"He asked," the younger, talkative guard answered, a touch defensive.

"Don't speak to the prisoners," the woman said. "He isn't one of us."

"He said he..."

"He's not," she repeated coldly.

"Link, are you..." Zelda looked from me, to the Kokiri, to me again, my words and questions finally registering in her beleaguered brain. "Gods," she said under her breath. "You're right. Navi is gone."

"I tried to tell you earlier, in the courtyard," I said to her. "When I first realized it myself. By coming here, it seems like I've…"

"No, no, it isn't your fault," Zelda insisted. "We'll find her, we'll...we'll find a way."

The older of the male Kokiri approached where we sat. "What are you chattering about?" he demanded. "Be silent. And don't ask any more questions."

I just nodded. I was pondering what the young Kokiri had said, the similarity of what he had described to what I had experienced. The sudden disorienting trauma of the unexpected cold, my ruined childhood home, and the Wolfos attack had preoccupied me completely, and Navi had just slipped away while I wasn't paying attention. The Kokiri guard had described something that sounded very similar, with the fires of the Gerudo serving as the distraction that allowed the fairies to go unnoticed as they departed.

I had obeyed the senior guard and I didn't pry further, but the young guard kept talking to me. His tone was nervous yet I could tell that he needed this, needed to tell someone, to confess. There was a sense of relief as he spoke, even though he could clearly sense his superiors' growing intolerance.

"By the time the survivors had made it to this citadel, the fairies were all gone. No one could remember precisely when they lost their own, what the last thing they said to their fairy was. They just melted into the background as the snows began to fall. Can you imagine what it was like?" He wrung his hands, glancing at the glares of his colleagues, but kept going. "Most of the people you knew your whole life, dead—surrounded by strangers—now forced to survive in a strange new place—thrust into a brutal war, and all without the companions that had been by your side all your life, like a second skin, like a second mind? Don't you think we wanted to know?"

"Shut UP," the girl growled.

"We all asked that question. For years, we fretted about it. But the grind of trying to survive, as the snows froze the land and the wolves multiplied while food grew scarcer...we couldn't find the answer. They weren't coming back. What good does it do to wonder?"

"STOP!" the girl shouted. I couldn't tell if she was angry with him for divulging secrets, or annoyed by his wallowing in self-pity, or pained by the memories he was evoking. Probably she felt something of all three.

The young man fell silent, glancing once more at me and then moving back away from me and breaking eye contact, trying to disengage and keep from being reprimanded once again. I was silently grateful to him, and didn't need anything more from him, so I simply sat quietly next to Zelda. Mostly by chance I found the palm of my hand resting on her leg. She reciprocated the gesture.

For a long time we sat together in noiseless anticipation, the three guards abandoning their rigid posture and one by one beginning to lean against walls and sway on their feet. Every so often we could hear a hue and cry from down the hall from the assembled Kokiri, or the murmur of countless voices speaking at once. Just what was being discussed in our absence I could not guess, but evidently it was quite a fractious process.

During a lull I said softly to Zelda, "How is your wound?"

She touched the bandage on her right cheek, gingerly tracing the path of the cut from her upper lip along her cheekbone. "I think it's already starting to heal. It hardly hurts...they applied some kind of analgesic." She gazed downward at the bloody, makeshift bandages on my lower leg. "How is yours?"

My punctured calf was more recent than Zelda's injury, hadn't been tended to by doctors and the pain from it was unmitigated. But pain and injury, for me—by this stage in my life—had become almost startlingly easy to ignore. A reminder, a lesson, a lingering punishment, but nothing to occupy my conscious mind. Soon enough it would heal, and add to my library of scars. It was a process with which I was thoroughly familiar.

"It'll be fine."

"We must ask to have it treated, as mine was," she murmured in concern. Of course, in our present situation, such a thing seemed very remote.

After an anxious and miserable wait, we were finally hailed by more Kokiri and brought back to the chamber of judgment. The ocean of seated Kokiri parted as we were goaded back into the center of the room. As we entered I saw Caelb and Thesseley rise from their seats, but Saria did not join them. In fact, I scanned the room with growing apprehension and found that Saria was not present. Instead, rising in the place that Saria had previously occupied was the orange-haired young Kokiri woman that I remembered had treated Zelda and myself. It was only with difficulty that I could recall her name: Seeliya the medic.

Seeing me looking at her as we were made to sit and our escort melted back into the crowd, Seeliya spoke. "I was chosen to take White's place on this council." A shock ran across my heart but I endeavored not to betray the feeling. "If, as you say, you have no special connection to White personally, that should not matter at all to you."

"White tortured me," I pointed out by way of response. "I would prefer it if she were still here."

"That phase of the moot is now over," said Thesseley enigmatically.

"I would like to say," Seeliya interjected, "when I came upon him, the woman, and White, in the torture room, Link had rather comprehensively crippled Rynoff. That would at least suggest that these two are not in league with her."

"Not necessarily," Caelb said a touch bitterly, "but duly noted. Let us move on."

"To what?" asked Zelda.

"Your sentencing," Caelb intoned.

"Patience," Thesseley admonished, a statement that could have been her personal mantra. Turning to us, she said, "Before we cast our judgment, you have one last statement to make. In light of the information that has been revealed today, and in consideration of the unique circumstances of the Kokiri people, I wish for you to answer simply this..."

There was a tense pause as I awaited the words that Thesseley spoke next: "Why should we allow you to leave this place alive?"

The whole fortress of Kokiri stared in silence at us as I considered my next words very carefully. "I don't want to leave here, dead or alive. Not until I've done what I can to help your cause and smite your enemies. I don't ask you to believe what I've told you, but I consider this place my home. I want to fight for it just as fiercely as each and every one of you."

Again there was a considerable pause. Thesseley broke the silence. "Zelda?"

Zelda breathed deeply in and out, drawing herself up. "I followed my husband here not only because I believed that his cause was just. I came because I couldn't not act. We are here because to fight and to struggle is our purpose. It is the purpose of every Hyrulian, every Goron, every Zora and every Kokiri, of everyone who cherishes the light of freedom that Verletz devours day by day. Resistance is life, inaction is death."

The words that Zelda spoke surprised me, but they should not have. Her voice at that moment was not that of an anonymous wanderer, it was the voice of the Princess of Hyrule—regardless of the person that her Kokiri audience thought was sitting before them.

"A noble sentiment," Caelb said with suspicion. "But one easily faked. Those very words could have come from one of Verletz's own speeches, exhorting our slaughter. You simply have no credible endorsement, no proof of your good intentions."

"We've given you our cooperation, we've submitted to your judgment," I said wearily, "and we endured your torture.

"If you are still convinced," Zelda said with slow caution, "of the narrative you have constructed—that we are spies who were somehow competent enough to reach this place but incompetent enough to allow ourselves to be captured—then consider this. Spies, soldiers, assassins, mercenaries, knights...they are tools. Tools to destroy, tools to defend, tools to reveal. Our loyalty is to our purpose: to fight. We offer to fight for you. If you cannot accept that we have had no master before you, then allow us to prove our commitment. Above all else, consider the opportunity that we represent. It is one that you cannot afford to waste."

Seeliya, Thesseley and Caelb all paused to consider her words. I was nervous, wondering if Zelda's rhetorical tack would be effective. Somewhere in the back of my mind I was aware that my quest, and my life, could end here and now. But I trusted in Zelda, the bearer of the Triforce of Wisdom, to elucidate our position to them.

Thesseley began to speak, slowly and deliberately. "We had been considering that possibility. I understand that, regardless of your prior employment, whatever it may have been, your...aptitudes can be of use to us. But it is not a simple matter to assimilate you into our ranks. You will have to earn our trust, and you will have to make sacrifices to do so."

Caelb scowled. "This, as I have extensively argued, is foolishness. There are some risks that we must take if we are to survive, but this is simply unacceptable. Executing them is the only sane option."

"Noted," said Thesseley, "but nonetheless it will come to a vote. The proposal I wish to table is this: One of the suspects will be given a suitable test, a task with demonstrable benefits to our society. Whichever does this task, the other will be held here as collateral. Should the subject attempt anything that we disapprove of anything during the test, the collateral will be...forfeit."

Knowing (and having felt) what the Kokiri here were capable of, Thesseley's dry language was infused with icy, terrifying menace.

"That is my proposal," said Thesseley, "and naturally, I vote yes. Seeliya?"

The orange-haired Kokiri girl thought about it for a considerable time. She even turned to several of the Kokiri around her, some of whom I vaguely recognized as being Saria's confidants previous to her expulsion from the moot. Eventually, she turned once more to the other two judges and said, "Given an appropriate test and appropriate safeguards, I will cast my vote in favor of the proposal."

All eyes now turned to Caelb. Recalcitrant, he did not speak or betray any sign that he would agree to the arrangement.

"Unanimity is required," Thesseley said in what for her seemed to be severe tones. "Caelb, what would it take for you to support the motion?"

"What if," Seeliya began, "you were to be put in charge of designing and administering the test? If you have doubts as to its efficacy or worry that it will be improperly administered, I see no reason not to allow you to design and implement it yourself."

Caelb softened, schemes clearly forming in his head as he came round to the idea of holding me and Zelda in the palm of his hand. At length he answered, "...Acceptable. I will take charge of the prisoners, I will determine their worthiness as our potential allies, and if I judge them suitable, I will command them as my agents. On these and only these conditions will I agree to your proposal."

Thesseley and Seeliya exchanged glances, and indicated their acquiescence. "It is decided, then," said Thesseley. "Do you have a test in mind? It would do well for you to air it now, before us all, if you do."

Caelb looked me over. He glanced at the bag of my possessions that had served as evidence during the trial. "You came bearing fire," he said to me, "and a sword with which you will not part. I propose that you put them to use straight away. You see, there is a frozen spring not far from here in the Lost Woods. I would imagine that,"—and here his voice overflowed with scornful sarcasm—"being as you are a native to Kokiri Forest, and possessing the keenness of sense that all Kokiri have that allow them to traverse the Lost Woods where others find only death, you will have no trouble locating it."

"And?" I asked. My nonchalance seemed to sting him.

"Once there, you will use your magic talisman to produce a flame that will thaw the spring and provide us with a source of fresh water. We can ill afford to continue using our resources to melt the snows for water, and getting the spring functional once more would clearly show your devotion to our cause..."

"This is ridiculous!" Zelda burst out, to my surprise. "First, you know about the condition we arrived here in. The woods are a deathtrap even for one skilled in their navigation. And furthermore, thawing the spring is a fool's errand...the talisman is far from ideal for that purpose. It would take unreasonable effort to make any real progress...and even then, it wouldn't last! The melted spring water would just freeze within hours!"

"Silence!" Caelb barked, shouting her down. "Silence! As we agreed, I am administering the test, and that is my decision. It doesn't matter how practical, how viable, how safe my trial is...all that matters is that you perform it with all your capability to my satisfaction. You should be willing to do anything, anything at all, to help us and to prove your loyalty. Else I shall judge you traitors and enemies. Is this not within my right?"

Thesseley sighed. "Yes. I have no objection to your plan, Caelb. If you wish to do this to them, on your head be it. I am washing my hands of this matter and I have no wish to deal with these prisoners further."

Seeliya also voiced her agreement. "Mmmm. We have other urgent business. Just know that they are now your responsibility, and whatever problems—or benefits—they create, you will be accountable for."

"Naturally," said Caelb with an unctuous confidence. "The woman will be the collateral of which Thesseley spoke. If you, Link, truly care about her as much as you purport, you will NOT fail me. When it comes to punishment, I and my kin are immeasurably more skilled than White and her hamfisted cronies."

"Damn it," I muttered under my breath. Zelda, though, gave me a stoic glance. The thought of her once again suffering at the hands of my Kokiri brethren was enough to chill my heart, but I could tell without a single word being exchanged that she would not allow my feelings to derail the deal we were getting. She would be my sacrifice, whether I liked it or not.

"Take them away," Caelb said dismissively. "We have other issues to moot."

"Please, he's hurt," Zelda pleaded. "He was shot in the leg by one of your arbalesters. Give us time..."

"Fine!" Caelb snorted. "I will have his injury tended to, and you may rest until tomorrow. Take them away."

And so we left the hall of judgment, flanked by Caelb's enforcers. My mind was blank; I just focused on keeping Zelda close and avoiding provoking the guards. But soon I felt Zelda's hand leave mine, as the guards escorting me veered off and Zelda went in a different direction. I wanted to say something, to object, but words would not come. I suppose, with my injury needing to be treated, that it was inevitable we would be separated. And I didn't want to jeopardize the fragile agreement for our survival, and possible employment, that had been brokered. Zelda was stoic as well, shooting me a short, longing glance as I was removed from her side, but not making a sound. Barring any lapses of consciousness on my part, it was the first time I had been forcibly separated from her in our journey so far—a small miracle, all things considered.

I was taken through the maze of passages and doors and stairs that make up the Forest Temple, away from the area that Saria had shown me, of which I had a rudimentary knowledge, into parts that were truly unknown. Eventually I was deposited in a small candlelit room on a well-worn cot and told to await medical treatment. A short while later some unfamiliar Kokiri arrived with a bag of assorted tools. Silently, suspiciously, they peeled off the blood-crusted bandages Zelda had hastily applied, and got to work. They had none of the dexterous care and skill that Saria's doctors had shown. Rather than the biting heads of ants they simply used a painful needle and thread to suture the wound, occasionally sopping up some of the blood that oozed out. I tried not to watch.

With their task judged done they left, one of them muttering to me that I should rest here for a while before I would be taken to a holding cell. They shut me alone in the room. The pain, that I had grown accustomed to during the trial, had been renewed by their ministrations. I didn't think they had deliberately hurt me or made the crossbow wound worse, but inevitably there would be discomfort from the stitches. I closed my eyes and focused on my breathing, trying to work through it, trying to forget about all my troubles—the missing fairies, Zelda taken from me, Saria seeming to have fallen from grace.

For a while—I don't know how long—I remained in such a state. Possibly I slept a bit. Regardless, I was jolted out of my repose by the feeling of a hand touching me gently on the arm. Quite alarmed, my eye flew wide open and I jolted upright, only to see a familiar white-clad figure by my bedside who had quietly got my attention.

"Saria!" I gasped out loud. She winced at the volume of my exclamation and I lowered my voice to a near-whisper. "Are you all right?"

Saria cast a quick glance at the door, which was still shut—or rather she had shut it once again after entering noiselessly. "I'm fine."

"What happened? The moot..."

"I've...things didn't go well," she said matter-of-factly. "After they took you away, the others decided that my familiarity with you disqualified me from serving as a judge of your fate."

My shoulders slumped; I had feared as much. "Damn..."

Saria put a hand to her brow, kneading her forehead with two fingers and brushing some snowy hair aside. "I mean, they aren't wrong. It's unfortunate that they found out about it, but it's due process...I'd have done the same."

"I understand."

"So," she went on, "they voted to have me removed from the council..."

"Hold on, one moment," I requested. "I want to ask you something, briefly. It's important."

"Certainly," she answered.

"When the Gerudo came, when the forest froze, what happened to the fairies?"

Saria's eyes widened a little, and turned away from me for a second as she answered. "They disappeared." None of the Kokiri, not even her, seemed able or willing to be any more specific, as if the event had burned a hole in their memories leaving only a dull, perfunctory statement behind.

"That's what I was told, when I asked one of Caelb's guards earlier. It's terrible. Do you know why it happened?"

"No."

"My own fairy disappeared some time after I entered the woods, I don't know precisely when. So apparently it wasn't a one-time departure, back then. Any fairy that comes into the frozen woods just seems to fade away."

Saria's eyebrows rose. "You had a fairy?"

"Navi," I said. "She came to me on the very day I had to leave. As I was going, when I met you on the bridge…"

"I don't recall a fairy by your side," she told me. "But that's not a huge surprise. They liked to hide, so perhaps it wasn't around at that moment, and really...after so many years of seeing you as the only boy without a fairy, maybe in my mind I just glossed over the fact that you had one all of a sudden. Your leaving was certainly foremost in my thoughts at the time."

"Right," I said, a little ashamed by the reminder of how I had left Saria so abruptly. "So, you were replaced on the council..."

"Yes," she said, "I was forced to choose a replacement, one of my subordinates, to represent my faction."

"Seeliya?"

She seemed a bit impressed that I knew of the person in question. "Yes. I trust her quite a bit—she's who I go to first for my own medical care, and the doctor of a spymaster has to be trustworthy in the extreme, as I'm sure you can appreciate."

"They proposed a test of my loyalty, a trial, to be administered by Caelb. Zelda has been..."

"I heard," she said. She looked at the floor. "To be honest, you should count your blessings. It could have been worse."

"I know," I replied firmly. "I'm prepared for whatever comes. I have to succeed, for Zelda's sake."

I saw a strange look pass across Saria's eyes. "About that..." she began hesitantly.

"What?" Immediately I was seized with fear that she bore bad news.

"I have a proposal for you," Saria said in even tones. "I've lost a lot of my power thanks to this debacle, but I'm not totally without recourse. I think I could break Zelda free from Caelb's goons and get her to safety."

"Fantastic!" I said in great but subdued relief.

Saria didn't seem uplifted at the possibility; rather she grew quite stern for a moment. "What you're doing is irresponsible. You must realize it. Her place isn't here...she can't be you."

"I..." I wanted to protest but nothing that came to my head seemed at all convincing or reasonable. "...Yes. Noted. But, wait...if Zelda disappears, won't they retaliate? Won't they suspect you?"

"Another sacrifice," she sighed, "but I'm willing to make it." I felt acute guilt creeping into my psyche over what I had put Saria through.

"But won't it invalidate their test?"

"That's the thing, Link," Saria answered, voice growing heavy. "You shouldn't try to complete their crazy test. You must realize you can't do it. It's suicide."

I thought for a moment but I didn't have a response. Saria paced to the other end of my bed and back. "If I let you, I know you'll try. But I...I want you to drift away."

"Saria..." I whispered. She did not relent.

"Leave, like you did seven years ago...it would be best for you, for me, for Zelda. Let the Princess go her own way. I'll do everything in my power to safeguard her in your stead, whether here or if she desires to return to the court after all these years. Or perhaps she'll return to you, if you go and I let her follow...that's her choice to make."

My mouth was dry. "I was going to leave, sooner or later. Truth be told, I'm not trying to worm my way into your enclave here," I tried to argue. "Zelda and I need only stay long enough to awaken you to your powers and duties as a Sage, and then we'll be on our way."

"Yes, I, the Sage," Saria said mockingly. "I have to play my part in your grand scheme—"

"It's destiny," I interjected, forcefully. "Like it or not I need you. We need you, Hyrule needs you."

"Hyrule needs me now because of what you did in the past!" she said exasperatedly. "Listen...I want to believe your story about your first quest, and buy into your mission, but...it's my job to be skeptical. To be pragmatic and focus on what's real and tangible. You're chasing phantoms, trying to play out a prophecy...I don't think you're crazy, and I know you aren't lying to me. That means we have to consider the possibility that you have been...misled? Enchanted? Made, somehow, to believe something that may not be tr—"

"It IS true!" I shouted. Saria's pained reaction cued me to lower my voice again, but even so I felt anger rising inside me. "I know it to be true, and it's not just me who believes these things. If...if you could become a Sage, you'd understand. I want to help you."

"Fine," she answered. "Fine. I believe you. I'll accept that everything you've told me, your whole life narrative, all your decisions, it's all true and rational. What does that make you, then? What HAVE you done?"

"I..."

"You ditched me and the rest of the Kokiri abruptly, with scarcely a goodbye, right when we needed you the most. You murdered Ganondorf, an ambassador, who had come to the suspicious and hostile land of Hyrule to try and make use of diplomacy rather than war. Even if it's not wholly your fault, Verletz's rise to power and the ruination of half of Hyrule stemmed from your actions. You want me to believe that you meddled with history."

I was stunned, and yet also I knew she was right. Nothing that she had been saying to me was untrue. I floundered, searching for any glimmer of redemption. "I'm sorry. I truly am. I took it upon myself to decide the fate of many—as I had been forced to do before—and I did what I thought was right."

"What's done is done, and I suppose that if you could meddle further with history, you'd have done it already," she said bitterly. "So I assume that you're stuck with us in this world you've made."

"That's right," I answered. "And I need you to help me make things right. You should come with me, this could be your chance..."

She just shook her head. "I'm not angry at you, Link. I don't know if I can accept or forgive everything you've done, but I don't hate you. We'll always be friends." Her sad, compassionate eyes found mine as I lay in my convalescence. "But you and I...just...You aren't welcome here. Clearly you can see that. Someday, in better times, we'll meet again. Maybe by then, I will have made up my mind about you. Maybe I can forgive you more easily that way. But right now, I'm sorry...I don't want you around."

The pause that followed tore at my soul. Eventually I was able to murmur, "I understand." My head sank back on my pillow.

"I'm sorry, Link."

I waved away her apology and repeated, "I understand."

There was another pause as I digested everything that had happened. Saria began to move towards the door. She turned back to me and said, "I'll find you in your cell later and bring your possessions to you. Try and hide whatever you can on your person when they send you out into the woods. I'm sure Caelb will want you to go with only the bare minimum, but you'll be doomed without more supplies."

"Yes. Thank you."

She stopped at the door. "I've said my piece. What you do next is up to you."

As she opened it and prepared to slip quietly through, I said softly to her, "Thank you. For everything." She looked at me and with a small smile she waved and closed me back in, alone and in pain.

For some reason I didn't feel sad or upset or anxious about what had happened. I just felt empty, used up, weary. More indistinct time passed, where I wasn't sure if I were awake or asleep, if dreams or reality were dominant. There were fragmentary glimpses of dripping stone, gray walls, moist sand—more remnants of the Water Temple. The loneliness and isolation of that desolate place mirrored my state of abandonment in the waking world. For a while I wondered if I was ever going to escape from it and reassemble a coherent narrative of my life. I wondered if I had ever had one in the first place.

The outside world was still churning along, of course, and at some point I was roused and made to hobble off into the fortress again by more grim-faced, taciturn minions of Caelb. I still had the Master Sword (and nothing else) in my possession, but it did not seem to worry them.

After some walking-I couldn't possibly describe the turnings of the route, for the Temple was quite a maze-I arrived at a dead-end hall whose walls were set with small cells, their fronts clad in iron bars. I immediately spotted, in one of the cells, the white-clad form of Zelda sitting cross-legged and closed-eyed on the small cot that was the only amenity within. She was roused to alertness at our coming and watched as the guards used a tarnished metal key to open the cell opposite hers and prodded me until I entered. Without any further explanations or assurances they left us, shutting a door down the hall. There were no other prisoners.

"Are you alright?" Zelda asked me, as soon as the echoes of the slammed door died down and she was sure no one was listening.

"I've been better," I answered, "but I've been worse. They stitched the hole in my leg, and that hurt, but the pain's subsiding."

"Will it be better by the time they come to take you to your test?"

I sighed. "I hope so."

"What happened to Saria?"

"She had to withdraw from the trial," I explained, "and she's...I'm not really sure. I'm afraid this whole thing might have damaged her credibility badly."

"That's a shame," Zelda said, "but it couldn't really be avoided."

"And..." I hesitated; Zelda looked at me anxiously. "She came to me while I was recovering and told me she...doesn't want to keep helping us. Given what she's already done for us, I can understand. I was her best friend, once, but even friendship has its limits and she has plenty of other things to worry about."

"So she...she can't become a Sage?" Zelda threaded her fingers together nervously.

"Not right now, at least. We'll find a way."

I sat on my bed in the cell. There was no window. On the opposite wall was an ominous pair of manacles on chains that were set in the wall. For a while I said nothing. Zelda still sat calmly, and I admired her from afar.

"I hope...you don't mind my little alibi," I said to her, a little embarrassed.

"Hmm?" She looked up at me.

"I said you were my wife." She just smiled. "I mean, it's laughable, isn't it? A common swordsman like me, married to a Princess..."

Zelda smirked briefly. "It won't be the greatest deception that I've pulled off, in my life." I wished so badly I could reach out and feel her, hold her. But even if we both stretched out our arms, we could not even touch the tips of our fingers.

She turned somber. "I'm sorry about Saria, Link. About the trial, about the ordeal they've foisted on you, everything."

"Trials and ordeals are my life," I reminded her. "It's nothing. You, though...they did horrible things to you, things you didn't deserve."

Zelda sighed heavily, eyes on the floor. "Yes, I know...even when Ganondorf held me prisoner in his dark castle, he did not lay a hand on me. I was scared-terrified-but I was not tortured. But what I endured here…" She looked up at me across the hall of the jail. "It's just bizarre, that the Kokiri would do worse to me than history's most evil tyrant. These are strange days."

I swallowed. "I-it's true...I thought when I killed Ganondorf that day that things would be fixed. I should have known it would not be so simple. Perhaps I should have-"

"Don't think about it." She stood, paced in her cell. "History, relentless, offered you a choice of damnations-that which you knew, and that which was unknown. You chose the unknown, and that is that."

"I know."

She ran a hand across the bars of the cell. "It's the same choice I would have made, were it my choice to make."

"What's done is done and I'm going to set things right, no matter what," I said to her. "And I will never-never-let anything like this happen to you, ever again."

"I will be strong," she said, "And hopefully, no one will ever get the chance." She sat down once again. "Still, this test of theirs, in the frozen forest full of wolves...I wish could do something."

"There's nothing for you to do," I said sadly. "This is something for me to face alone."

"That..." I caught her trying to cut herself off from saying anything further.

"Hmm?"

"It's just that...that makes me think. I...I don't know any more."

"What?"

"I don't know if I should be following you."

My jaw dropped. Had Saria suggested it to her? Or did she somehow, in her wisdom, sense what Saria had sensed? Was it coincidence, or something more?

"You..."

"Don't misunderstand. I'm not afraid. I'm not afraid to suffer, to die. But I am afraid of what would happen if I did die. If I fell at your side."

"Zelda..."

"Could you carry on, knowing that you were there to protect me, and I died anyway?" She locked her eyes with mine intensely. It was rare that I saw her gaze at me so.

"...I..." I hesitated.

"Could you keep fighting this war?"

"...I could."

"You probably could. I know you're strong enough. But would you be the same?"

I had no answer. She pressed on. "Would you still fight like you always did? Would you still stay safe, be smart? Or would you despair? Would you fight looking to get yourself killed? Could you ever make peace with it? Could you forgive yourself?"

"Zelda, please..."

"I'm sorry. I don't know. I'm not sure what's right anymore."

"Please...don't talk me into leaving you. I want...I want you to be safe...but..."

"But what?"

"You...you've saved my life..."

She saw the weakness in my voice. "There's probably a dozen people in this temple more skilled in battle

than I am."

"Zelda, no one can save me like you can."

There was a pause, her face mostly blank save for a small trace of surprise. But it soon was gone, and she looked away with downcast eyes. "Someone, sooner or later, will take advantage of the fact that we're traveling together. Someone will use me against you. Use me to get to you. Link, they already are." She gestured widely with her hands, at her cell, at us, at the whole situation.

"You used to be so stridently devoted to following me, resistant of any suggestion of turning back from danger, from leaving me alone," I argued.

"It's because I…" She closed her eyes in vexation. "I was stupid. Damn it, I was in love with you and I didn't want to let you go!" Her fists clenched, striking the iron bars in front of her softly in resignation. "I let my feelings for you cloud my judgment, I put my heart in front of my head. You were right, Link. This is not the time or the place for love. And love has been guiding my decisions."

I didn't know what to say. It was what I had said. I had struck down her affection even though I knew I felt the same for her, because of exactly the reasons she had just articulated. It was dangerous. It was sloppy. It would be a liability. And yet…

"Is this about our kiss?" I asked. "About what I said to you?"

"No. Not at all. When you said that kiss was a mistake, I reacted on instinct, on emotion. But now I think you might be right, that we are making a mistake. I just think...I think we should seriously reconsider whether traveling and fighting alongside the one you love is a good idea." She sat at her bunk once more, not looking at me.

"I didn't want to break your heart," I insisted. "Please, say I didn't..."

"Remember, we're not just ordinary people," she answered, sidestepping my plea. "We're the inheritors of the Triforce, its destined recipients. Should such important people always be in the same place at the same time? Verletz must have us both for his plans to succeed, for him to take us to the Temple of Time and claim the united power of the Triforce."

"If we parted," I said, "and you fell into his hands...that, I could not forgive myself, more even than if you died by my side. I can't bear to think of you in the hands of one such as him...again."

She showed me a brief, melancholic smile, and a while passed in silence. Then I spoke to her again.

"When Saria mistook you for my wife, she said something else. That it wasn't the courts, or the gods, or anyone else that made a wife a wife, a husband a husband. It's that we came together, that we go together, that we live and fight and hope and suffer together."

She looked up at me. Encouraged, I continued. "What we have and what I feel for you is more than love. It's a bond that transcends time itself, forged in hardship and tested in the crucible of strife. I don't know how to put it into words, but...I need you. We need each other."