AN: Gah, I have to find a way to finish these chapters more quickly. Feels like forever since I posted the last one. I mean, it is a hobby, and I do have a life, but still. Anyway, I hope this was worth the wait!

Thank you everyone for your super awesome reviews - your feedback keeps me inspired! :D

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Fortitude

Chapter XXXVI

He walked the darkened corridor with calm, steady strides, unfazed by his eerie surroundings. Darkness hung in the air like a black fog, filling every crack in the old stone walls. Small, sparse torches lit his way, their dim flames barely visible. It was a wonder he could see at all.

The figure himself blended with the shadows, being hooded and cloaked in black. His quiet footsteps broke the silence again and again, though somewhere, perhaps several rooms away, mysterious sounds echoed through the walls. A muted crash, a long, distant wail… Surely this place was cursed.

The man pressed on without hesitation, rounding a corner before he slowed to a stop.

"Have you brought what I asked for?" a familiar voice spoke, dark and sinister.

I watched the necromancer emerge from the shadows, suppressing the rage his mere visage brought. He, too, stood hooded and cloaked, though he moved as though one with the darkness.

The other man sank onto one knee, head bowed.

"…I have, Master."

Shock jolted my senses, and for a moment I refused to believe my ears.

"Show it to me."

Link reached into his cloak and pulled out the Ocarina, offering it to the necromancer.

"Place it before me."

He did so, and his hands vanished back into the folds of his cloak.

"Now tell me where the Stones are."

Link hesitated, and I drew in closer, desperate to see his hooded face. Slowly he lifted his head, raising his eyes to the man he called master…

A startled cry jerked me awake, and immediately I sat up, turning toward the bed on the opposite side of the tent. There Link writhed against his sheets, moaning incoherently. Thrusting my dream to the back of my mind, I threw off my covers and rushed to his bedside.

"Link," I called to him, grasping his shoulders and shaking him gently. "Link, please wake up…"

But he continued to thrash about, gasping for breath between each pained whimper. Fear clawed at my insides, and I suddenly recalled that day in the desert, when we came face to face with the necromancer. Link had suffered a similar attack...

"Impa!" I tore from Link's side and grabbed the tent flap. She lay in her bedroll just a few steps away, preferring to watch over us from outside.

"Impa!"

She jerked awake and immediately sat up. "Zelda? What's wrong?"

"It's Link," I said, grabbing her wrist as she climbed to her feet. "He's having some kind of attack."

She followed me without question as we rushed back to his bedside. He still thrashed about, his hands clutching his sheets, but neither of us tried to hold him down for fear of harming him. Impa placed her hands on his head and closed her eyes, trying to reach him through the darkness cloaking his mind.

Only a few seconds passed before she opened her eyes and pulled her hands away. Link did not cease his struggles.

"Impa—"

"There's nothing we can do but wait," she murmured. "It will pass."

Helplessly we stood by, watching as Link fought the evil within him. He struggled for an alarmingly long time, longer than I could bear.

"Impa, please—"

Then suddenly the Triforce symbol on Link's hand began to glow, illuminating our anxious faces. It shone brightly for a few seconds, and as the light faded his movements began to slow. Finally he lay still—save the rapid rise and fall of his chest. His hair clung to his damp forehead, and tentatively I smoothed it back with a trembling hand.

"What just happened to him?" I whispered. "The necromancer, he can't possibly be here..."

"I doubt it," Impa assured me. "I've seen this happen before. The curse has grown too strong, and Link is struggling to suppress it. I imagine his poor health causes additional strain... He must have faltered somehow, and the evil within him seized the chance to dominate. But Link fought back, and it seems he's regained control... for now."

"The Triforce responded to him," I murmured, "just like it did the day he escaped..."

Impa nodded. "I imagine it has been aiding him all this time."

"But Link can't control it," I reminded her. "The Triforce of Courage responds to his own strength."

We fell silent then, gazing down at his weary face. I wanted to believe that as long as he fought to resist the Black Echo, Link would survive long enough for us to free him. Deep down, however, I knew he was only mortal. Even if his spirit could resist, his body could only endure so much.

Judging by the look on Impa's face, I knew she held a similar fear.

"These attacks happened more and more frequently until we performed that first cleansing," she told me. "He also developed near constant headaches. Some were so painful they left him incapacitated… I fear those will also start again soon."

I looked at her, trying to ignore the dread swelling within me.

"Impa, we need to perform another cleansing. Tomorrow."

She shook her head. "That's too soon. He needs to rest and regain his health."

My heart sank. "For how long?"

"Three days at least."

"You expect him to lie here and suffer for three days?"

"I won't risk another cleansing until he's stronger. It takes too great a toll on his body. He was in much better condition last time, and it still put him out for a few days."

I fell silent, finding no desire to put him at risk.

She turned to me then, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder.

"I don't like it anymore than you do," she soothed, "but he should sleep through most of it anyway."

I shook my head. "Not if the pain is that intense."

Impa sighed. "We'll do everything we can for him," she assured me. "He's resting now, and you should too. Link wouldn't want you fretting at his bedside in the dead of night."

"I want to stay with him a little longer," I murmured, sinking down onto the stool and resting my arms on the bed.

"If you must," she said softly. "But don't stay too long."

"I won't."

"I'll be outside if you need me." Gently she stroked the back of my head, smoothing my unkempt hair. I concentrated on her familiar touch, letting it calm me.

"Thank you, Impa."

Then silently she left the tent, and I turned my attention back to Link. Lightly I stroked his hand, warming it with my own as I listened to his slow, steady breaths.

"I would do anything to help you," I whispered. "To see you well again… But everything grows worse and worse..."

I feared how much more he could take. I feared the curse would claim his life.

Or his mind...

Reluctantly I considered the dream I had glimpsed before Link's attack. I knew it had been a vision; I had seen everything far too vividly for a mere nightmare. But that did not mean such a scene would come to pass... did it?

"Never," I murmured. "You're stronger than that."

Yet I could not easily dismiss the image of Link kneeling before his tormenter, offering the very item he had sworn to protect. What more would I have seen, had I not woken? Had the gods sent me a warning?

He is only mortal...

Again my gaze fell to Link's face, and inwardly my logic wrestled with my emotions. No one held more faith in him than me, but I knew better than to ignore my visions.

Thus a small fragment of doubt forced its way into my heart, spawning an unfamiliar and unwanted feeling.

xxxxxxx

I arranged to meet with the leaders the following morning. We had agreed to assemble in Goron City as usual, away from any eavesdroppers in the camp.

Obviously Link could not attend the meeting, so I headed there alone, taking the opportunity to clear my head and organize my thoughts. Above me the autumn sky loomed grey and bleak, though the changing leaves brought a vibrant touch of color here and there.

September already. Link will be twenty-five soon...

For all we knew he already was. Knowing Link's actual birthday was impossible, since we knew nothing about his origins. Saria had always celebrated it on the day she found him and his mother in the Lost Woods—the day his mother had died.

As a child I had always thought it too sad a day to celebrate his birthday, mostly because my own mother had died giving birth to me. I had always detested my birthday for that reason, though the feeling had faded in my adolescent years.

"Saria doesn't see it that way," a much younger Link had told me. "She says dying to save the life of another is the ultimate act of love. So she chose that day to celebrate my life and to honor my mother for giving me my life."

"Do you agree with her?" I asked him.

Link had hesitated, lowering his gaze as he dragged a stick through the dirt.

"I am grateful that my mother saved me," he murmured. "She was very brave, and she loved me very much... but I still wish I had known her. My father too. I know I can't remember them... but I miss them."

I had taken his hand and gave him a sad smile.

"I know what you mean."

Sharing the pain of losing one's parents had strengthened our bond as children, but our personal grief remained. Impa and Saria had filled our lives with happiness and love, but they could never close the void our parents had left—not entirely.

My thoughts returned to the present, to the child I would soon bring into the world. Gently I rubbed my belly, wanting to reassure the tiny life inside. You will never know that pain. Your father and I will raise you together.

It was hardly a promise I could make, but I would do everything in my power to keep it.

Even if that meant protecting Link from himself.

.

The leaders had already assembled by the time I entered the conference room. As always they rose to their feet and greeted me with reverence. I waved them back into their seats, wishing they wouldn't bother. Nothing about my appearance suggested royalty. My simple blue dress with its faded floral pattern was hardly the typical garment of a queen. My hair, however, did appear more suited for a lady. Impa had sat me down to brush it and pin it up, insisting I abandon my usual braid.

"You have no reason to go around looking like Sheik," she had scolded, making me feel like a young tomboy again. "That was necessary once, but now you are Queen, and your appearance must serve as a constant reminder of that. The people expect it of you."

I still thought I looked like a peasant girl with too fancy a hair style, but I had kept this to myself.

Impa had not attended the meeting, having stayed back in the tent to watch over Link. Cleia had also remained in the camp with Clef. Even with four leaders absent, Darunia, Ian, and all seven lieutenants quickly filled the small conference room.

Once those who chose to sit had taken their seats, I folded my hands on the stone table and paused to register their attentive faces.

"Thank you all for coming," I began, my voice solemn but strong. "Link will not be joining us today, though that should not surprise you."

"Is he ill?" Aiden asked from his place near the wall.

I paused, reconsidering the immediate "no" I meant to say. I could feel the watchful eyes of Ian, Theodus, and Darunia, as they all knew the truth about Link's condition.

"Yes," I said softly, pausing to swallow the lump in my throat. "He is very ill… but it's far more dangerous than that. No medicine can cure him, and no fairy magic can cleanse him."

The men stared at me, not bothering to hide their alarm.

"How is this possible?" Derrick inquired, his eyes wide.

"Because Link's ailment is not a sickness at all," I replied quietly. "...It's a curse."

Silence filled the room as the leaders struggled to accept my words—at least those who did not already know.

"Months ago," I explained, "when the necromancer held Link prisoner, he tried to make him a slave to his will using dark and forbidden magic. Link resisted and eventually escaped, but not unscathed. Some of that magic had taken root within him, and it has been growing stronger ever since. The curse does not control Link, but fighting it weakens him and causes pain."

"And there is no way to free him?" Aiden asked.

I sighed quietly. "We can reverse its effects, which is the only reason he's survived this long—that and his own strength. But so far we have been unable to permanently lift the curse. We will continue working to find a cure, but that could take months—time the Resistance does not have.

"The reality is this," I said, eyeing them with utmost seriousness, "if Link's condition continues to decline, he will be unable to participate in the Final Strike."

Again the leaders fell silent. I imagined they had reached the same conclusion.

"As I'm sure you know," I continued, "our camp cannot last through the winter—it was never meant to. This war must end within the next two months."

I studied them a moment, finding no signs of surprise on their grim faces.

"My husband is not careless," I added, my eyes moving from one man to the next. "I know he has a plan, and I need you to tell me what it is."

They glanced at each other, and all eyes came to rest on Ian, who sighed quietly.

"We planned to attack after nightfall," he began. "Biggoron has agreed help us bring down the drawbridge, and our army of united Hylians, Gorons, and Gerudo would storm the castle—with Link in the lead. He intended to hunt down Ashton, destroy the staff, and force his surrender while we reclaimed the castle in your name. Then we would hold him prisoner until you had regained sole authority and negotiated with the Vandelian High Council, using Ashton's life as leverage."

I stared at him, seeing one glaring hole in their plan.

"…This plan relies quite heavily on Link's success," I stammered. "Did he mention how he intends to fight through half of Ashton's guard?"

"It's our job to clear his path as best we can, though he did mention a secret weapon of some kind, one powerful enough to give him a distinct advantage."

Secret weapon…?

I stiffened as realization struck: The Master Sword.

Link had already agreed he would not touch Master Sword until we knew what the necromancer intended to do with him. The book we had found in his lair—

The book... The page I tore from it!

I had brought it with me the day I fled the castle, but after failing to lift the spell I had nearly forgotten it. I hadn't even shown Impa.

"Your Majesty?"

I looked up to see the leaders waiting expectantly.

"Oh, I—I see," I said, straightening to attention."I will have to discuss this further with Link."

I glanced toward Darunia, but he appeared as concerned as I felt. He likely hadn't known about Link's plan either.

I remained distracted through the duration of the meeting, but I managed to listen as the lieutenants explained where they would be throughout the next two weeks. None of us could guess how Ashton would react to Clef's rescue, but we knew to brace ourselves for the worst.

So, after wishing them all safe travels and arranging to follow up once Link had recovered, I dismissed the leaders and promptly headed back toward the camp. My determination to translate the seemingly unreadable text had doubled, now that I had a Sheikah to assist me.

xxxxxxx

Quietly I slipped into the tent Link and I shared, knowing he would still be asleep. Impa sat at our table, poring over a map spread across its small surface. I spied clusters of handwriting scattered about the map, possibly notes about the necromancer.

She looked up as I approached Link's bedside and greeted me quietly.

"How was the meeting?"

"Well enough," I murmured, crossing my arms as I gazed down at Link. "Everyone is pretty anxious about him."

"Did you tell them about...?"

I turned to her and nodded. "They were unsettled, but I think they've suspected something for some time." I shifted my attention back to Link, resisting the urge to stroke his cheek. "He doesn't look well, after all."

Then I turned away and crossed the room to grab my satchel off my bed. Rummaging through it, I pulled out the torn page and unfolded it.

Still gibberish to me.

"What's that?" Impa asked, folding up her map.

I glanced toward Link, making sure he still slept. Come with me a moment."

She gave me a puzzled look but followed me out of the tent. Hurriedly I settled beneath a tree a few feet away, and Impa did the same.

"At the meeting," I said, keeping my voice hushed, "the leaders told me Link intends to lead the Final Strike using a 'secret weapon' that will give him an advantage. Do you know anything about this?"

Impa shook her head. "You suspect the Master Sword?" It was more a statement than a question.

"Yes, and it reminded me of this," I handed her the page. "This came from a book we—Nabooru, Link, and I—found in the necromancer's lair all those months ago. We think he wrote these words here." I pointed to the Gerudo writing in the margin. "It says—"

"Broken Sword… Broken Guard," Impa read.

"Yes," I said more quietly, remembering to keep my voice down. "We suspected that could refer to Link and the Master Sword, but we couldn't read the text on this page. So we agreed that Link would not touch the Master Sword until we know more about the necromancer's plans—Impa, are you even listening?"

"This is Ancient Sheikan," she murmured.

"Yes, I realize that, but it has an illegibility spell; can't you tell?"

Impa looked at me over the top of the page.

"I can read it clear as day."

My mouth fell open, and I grabbed her arm to see the page. "I still can't read a thing."

"Could it have something to do with my Sheikan blood?"

"Yes, yes, perhaps, but enough about that—just read it!" I froze and pressed my lips together, casting a nervous glance toward the tent. "Please," I added in a whisper.

Impa cleared her throat and softly began to read:

"As has been written,

The Blade shall choose its Wielder,

A mortal with an Unbreakable Spirit,

Blessed by the Three.

The Blade shall bind itself to him,

And to him alone.

For it aids none but the Wielder.

.

The Wielder is strong, noble, and brave,

but still mortal, fallible,

and susceptible to evil.

Should darkness ever taint his soul,

The Blade shall cease to know its Wielder.

And if it should pierce his tainted heart,

Its steel will crack and shatter,

Doomed to remain in pieces,

Forever devoid of power.

For the Blade cannot kill its Wielder

Without sealing its own demise.

.

The death of the Wielder

By the sacred Blade

Would bring endless darkness.

An era ravaged by tyranny,

And wrought with grief.

For without the Blade of Evil's Bane

No Wielder can ever rise again."

.

I sat still and quiet, letting the poetic words unravel into one clear and terrible conclusion.

"…He doesn't simply want to destroy the Master Sword," I breathed, "he means to destroy the line of Heroes."

"I've heard this before," Impa murmured, staring down at the page. "Long ago… There are some who doubt its credibility."

"We don't have the luxury of doubt, Impa. We must assume it's true. Why else would he go to such lengths?"

"Why indeed," she replied. "If this had anything to do with seizing the throne he would have done it by now. He controls the undead, after all."

"Ashton is nothing but a puppet," I said quietly. "Maybe the necromancer means to control the throne from afar by controlling him. Then once he… once he finishes his business with Link he could take the throne for himself. His plan would ensure a long and unchallenged rule."

"Perhaps," Impa nodded. "…Or perhaps he's setting the stage for someone else."

I glanced at her, and her weakly masked fear reflected my own.

Ganondorf.

"Impa, it's impossible. We banished him, locked him away in another dimension."

"We locked him away with the Triforce of Power. Who knows what he is still capable of?"

I stared down at my hands, trying not to ponder the possibilities. An icy fear had closed around my heart, chilling me to the bone.

If he were to return… Memories of a darker time filled my mind. A time of poverty, crime, and grief. A time when kindness bowed to suspicion and safety existed only in our dreams. I had survived such a time only because I had clung to the hope that Hyrule's redeemer would come. And he had come.

But now… If the curse takes him…

"Zelda."

I looked up, startled by Impa's warm hand on my shoulder. Above us a bird sang a quiet tune—a sound rarely heard those days.

"Don't despair just yet," she soothed. "Until the necromancer has the Stones and the Ocarina, he cannot touch the Master Sword. All we have to do keep those from him, and his plan—whatever it is—will never come to pass."

I swallowed, remembering my dream from the other night.

"Now tell me where the Stones are."

I had yet to tell Impa about it; somehow I could not find the will to do so.

"Yes…" I murmured. "But we must also protect Link."

"Of course. He's not going anywhere for a while yet. But when he is well again, we'll have ourselves another one of those long talks, find out what he's really planning."

I nodded, but inwardly I wished I could better gauge Link's state of mind. Did he plan to use the Master Sword because he believed he could be cured? Or did something else drive him to act so recklessly, something like desperation?

Again you doubt him, my inner voice scolded me.

Shame burned through me, but I could not deny the truth. I feared for him… and that fear cast a shadow of doubt.

"Zelda?" Again Impa broke through my thoughts. "Try not to worry so much" she soothed. "We'll figure this out."

I nodded but remained silent, unable to voice my uncertainty.

xxxxxxx

Three days passed, and still we heard no word of an attack. I could only assume the Council had interfered, perhaps even the Court. An execution had not been performed in nearly a century, and to do so publicly was unspeakable. Perhaps even the nobles had found themselves unsettled by Ashton's cruelty.

Life at the camp carried on in much the same way, though many people had been relocated due to the addition of the infirmary. Everything had since grown a bit more crowded, but no one had complained—at least not to my knowledge. The residents had fortunately formed a close and supportive community. I knew some minor squabbles had been dealt with here and there, but such conflicts were often resolved before I heard about them.

Heather still accompanied me for walks around the camp, and I was glad to find our conversation came easily. She often spoke of life after the war, of the life she hoped to build with Adam.

I listened more than I contributed, speaking about my own future only when she asked questions. I could understand her need to look ahead, but I could not see beyond the dark shroud surrounding our present lives. I hadn't lost hope, but I feared what lay ahead too much to indulge in such dreams. My more pleasant thoughts always strayed back into the past.

I prayed Heather would never lose her positive spirit.

The news of Clef's rescue had spread like wildfire throughout the camp, but because of Siena's imprisonment there had been no celebration. Everyone anxiously awaited news of the next execution, though so far none had reached us. I prayed that meant none had taken place.

Physically Clef had begun to recover, as he had suffered no serious injuries, but his spirits remained low. He knew rescuing Siena would be impossible, since we could not reach her within the castle walls. I had gone to see him a few times, but I sensed he preferred solitude.

Link's recovery had also progressed, but slowly. He could leave his bed with my assistance, but only for short periods of time. Minimal exertion sapped his strength, and he slept through most of the day. I remained convinced that the curse, or more Link's resistance to it, took a harder toll than he would admit.

His nightmares plagued him every night. Again and again I woke to his fearful, incoherent cries, trying to soothe him out of his disoriented state. Link had urged me to sleep somewhere I would not be disturbed, but I had refused. I knew he secretly wanted me close.

Impa's fear had also come to pass—every day Link suffered terrible headaches. They rendered him overly sensitive to light and sound, and sometimes the pain grew so severe it made him sick. I had seen such symptoms before—Lady Renae sometimes endured similar headaches—but never Link. And while medicine could help Renae, nothing could alleviate Link's pain.

Link managed to find some rest despite the pain, and that particular day he had slept well into the evening. Supper had already been served, and the residents had gathered to watch the minstrels perform on the far side of the camp.

I sat at the small table in our tent, reading a translation of the torn page Impa had written for me by our dimly lit lantern. Yet no matter how many times I studied the words, the same questions remained. Where had the necromancer come across such ancient writing? How did he know so much about Link, about the Master Sword, about anything?

...Could he truly have some connection to Ganondorf? It would certainly explain his extraordinary power...

Breathing a quiet, frustrated sigh, I placed the paper back into my satchel and rose to check on Link.

He lay with a cloth folded over his eyes, to help shield them from the daylight piercing through the canvas. But night had fallen, so gently I removed the cloth, hoping the dim light wouldn't wake him. Only sleep spared him the constant pain of his headaches.

I had barely set the cloth aside, however, when I felt warm fingers grasp mine.

"Oh—" I turned to find Link gazing up at me. His face was calm, almost peaceful in the lamplight. "I'm sorry; did I wake you?"

"It's okay," he said, his voice hoarse and barely more than a whisper. "I sleep too much."

I smiled sadly, settling onto the stool at his bedside and lifting a hand to stroke his hair.

"How are you doing?" I asked, careful to speak as softly as possible. "Any better?"

"...A little."

I studied him a moment, noting the subtle signs of pain in his face. Of course he would lie—for my sake, not his.

"Do you want me to put out the lantern?"

"No... I prefer a little light."

He avoided looking toward the lantern, but I knew it comforted him more than it pained him. He saw more than enough darkness in his dreams.

"Hold on just a little longer," I soothed, gently stroking his cheek. "Tomorrow we'll take you to the Forest Temple. Impa and the others will make the headaches stop."

He did not reply but closed his eyes and leaned into my touch. "How is Clef?"

I hesitated, choosing my words carefully.

"...His health is improving. He should be back on his feet soon."

"No word about Siena?"

"None," I replied sadly. "But no news is good news, I suppose."

"I hope so." Link opened his eyes and reached for my hand. "And what about you?" he murmured. "Have you been feeling all right?"

I shook my head, dismissing the question. "I'm fine, Link; don't worry about me."

"But I do," he said softly. "I worry all the time. I want to take care of you… be strong for you..."

"Shh..." I pressed a kiss to his hand. "You are strong. How else could you have survived so much?"

The words had barely left my mouth before my vision crept back into my thoughts, pricking like a thorn. Fearing he might see the worry in my face, I leaned in to softly kiss his lips.

"But you'll lose that strength if you don't eat," I said. "Can I bring you something?"

It was not a question, despite my choice of words. Link knew this.

"If you insist," he murmured.

"I do." Tenderly I kissed his forehead. "I'll be right back."

I rose to my feet and hurried out of the tent, intending to find Impa before I prepared something for Link. We never left him alone for long.

It was she, however, who found me.

I had barely entered the main area of the camp when I saw her rushing toward me. One look at her face sent an icy wave through me, for I saw something Impa rarely allowed herself to show.

Fear.

"What is it?" I asked once we reached each other.

She grasped my shoulders, her red eyes meeting mine.

"Kakariko," she breathed, "it's under attack."

I stared at her, vaguely aware of the horror stabbing my heart.

"What?" I stammered. "Why… Why would Vandelians attack—?"

"They didn't," she cut me off. "Stalfos did. And the gods know what else."

Again I stared, struck dumb with shock.

"We—we have to do something—"

"We will," Impa said, barely containing the urgency in her voice. "You won't. A group of us is going down there, but you stay here. There is nothing you can do, not in your condition."

I pressed my lips together, wanting more than anything to assist them.

"And you must watch over Link," she added, her eyes boring into mine. "Try to keep this from him as long as possible. At least until we've cleansed him."

I swallowed, forcing my panic into the recesses of my mind.

"You're right," I whispered. "I will."

She nodded, letting her hands slip from my shoulders. "The Vandelians have fled, and the monsters will be gone by dawn, but until then we will save whomever and whatever we can. I'll return as soon as I can."

I grabbed her wrist before she could turn away.

"Take the Ocarina," I said, my voice hollow. "Please, Impa. You can reach Kakariko faster and return here safely. And you can play the Song of Storms."

She hesitated, searching my face. "All right."

We hurried back to the tent, and I plastered a calm mask onto my face before pushing the canvas flap aside. I prayed Link would not see through it.

The moment we stepped inside the tent, however, we both stopped dead in our tracks.

His bed was empty.

Not only that, but the blanket lay discarded on the ground, and his wrinkled sheets appeared as though he had struggled. The lantern remained on the table, but Link rarely used it anyway.

"He was just here!" I exclaimed. Panic crept along the edges of my mind. He isn't strong enough to walk off on his own… Is he?

"He can't have gone far," Impa said as I grabbed the lantern and stepped outside. I refrained from calling his name, unsure if the situation was serious enough.

Maybe I'm overreacting…

Deep down, however, a sense of foreboding stirred within me. Still I suppressed it, convinced Link remained nearby. As much as I wanted Impa to stay until he returned, I knew Kakariko needed her more.

"I can look for him, Impa," I said, my eyes scanning the surrounding area. "You go with the others to Kakariko… I'll get you the Ocarina—"

The Ocarina.

Panic jarred my senses as I flung the tent flap aside. Setting the lantern on the table, I grabbed my satchel and rummaged through it.

No Ocarina.

"No… No…" I turned the bag upside down, dumping its contents onto my bed. The Ocarina was not among them.

It cannot be… It cannot be!

"Zelda?" Impa stepped inside the tent.

"He took it," I whispered, still unable to believe my eyes. "He took it…"

"What's wrong?" I felt Impa's hand on my shoulder. "What is it?"

"He... He teleported," I stammered.

I didn't need to see the fear and confusion I knew had claimed her face.

"He… to where?"

I turned to her then, meeting her gaze with wide, fearful eyes.

"…To the Shadow Temple."