The bokoblins shrieked warnings to one another, charging in a loose group. Two were silver-skinned, four blue. One of the blue was carrying a club made of dragonbone lashed to a thick tree branch; the other five were all carrying Hylian swords. Looted from the castle, in all likelihood. They could not wield them perfectly, but they did not need to; for all their diminutiveness compared to a moblin, the bokoblins were still thickly muscled and could swing hard enough to kill an armored adult with a stick, much less a sword. The force that charged at Zelda and Paya, scrambling over ruined Guardians and howling their contempt and their fury, was the sort that would have sent the pair scrambling even a few weeks ago.

Now the monsters closed the distance. Paya stood in front of Zelda, sword in hand, but her posture was relaxed. The attendant looked over her shoulder at her charge, whose blue-green eyes were focused on the lead bokoblin.

"Cover your ears," the princess said, raising one hand.

Paya did. Zelda snapped her fingers.

The ground shook and the air roared as the world was filled with a terrible light, and the screams of the bokoblins were lost in the din as their weapons went spinning through the air.

Zelda had squeezed her eyes shut out of reflex—opening them again, she saw that the monsters were gone, and only evil-smelling smoke hung in the air. They had been vaporized so that not even their horns or teeth remained.

I wish that felt better than it does.

"We should continue," Paya said. "I do not believe there are more ahead of us. If you wish, you can confirm—"

"No. I know to trust you by now. Let's move on—we'll return to the horses after we've found what we came for."

They walked on through the field.

Zelda could have stuck to the road—the bokoblins rarely came near it, and taking the horses would have certainly been much faster—but she opted to walk the path through the ruins of long-broken machines. When she'd stepped off the road and Paya had followed her, she'd thought that she was doing it to dispose of any threats to other travelers. She still liked to think that was true, at least to an extent. But the real truth was beneath her fingertips as she brushed against the moss-encrusted hull of the Guardians, the alloy that was neither stone nor metal but shared qualities of both while being lighter than either. She could feel herself here, in this place.

"Do you remember the last time we were here?" she asked.

Behind her, Paya said, "I do. We dissected one of the Guardians."

"Yes. It has been a very long time. We've come a long way. Now..."

"Now?"

Zelda stopped next to a Guardian whose top segment was askew, as if it were tilting its head like an inquisitive dog. She laid her palm against its eye, which was dark and cool to the touch. Rubbed her thumb against it and found it smooth, flawless, even after a century of weathering.

"Now I am stepping into the past." She paused, choosing her words as she gently drew her fingernails across the red glass. "When we started out this morning, I welcomed the delay but did not think Impa was right. We had been here once before—why would I be able to remember now, if I could not remember then?"

Paya stood with her hands clasped in front of her, the picture of patience, but she wasn't looking at Zelda. Perhaps she was processing that her charge had 'welcomed the delay.' Still, after a moment the Sheikah said, "And now you believe she was correct?"

"I know she was." She tried to arrange her feelings into thoughts, something she could express. "As we draw closer to the place where I fell, I can feel the past closing in around me. Have you ever experienced something, and thought that surely you had been through exactly the same moment before? A small disconnect between yourself and the present, as if you are playing out that moment without cause or reason. I am experiencing that now, only it is not for a single moment." She paused. "I am nearly disassociating. With myself. The past is reaching for me."

When she lifted her hand away from the Guardian's eye, she found it was shaking. She grabbed it with the other, but that one was shaking, too.

I have not felt like this for weeks. I am at the end. I can feel the end. Why am I so afraid?

More than weeks. Months. On Death Mountain she had only panicked at the danger to Hyrule; in the Yiga Hideout she had never feared for herself, only for Paya; above Rito Village she had never felt true fear at all. Was it really so far back as Zora's Domain? Was it earlier still, the last time she had felt this way?

Or have I never stopped, and only ignored the feeling up to now?

"He's waiting for me," she said, the words unbidden, the thought intrusive. "I've made him wait so long, I—"

Paya's hand closed on her shoulder.

The wind blew gently between the Guardians as the light of the sun warmed the grasses and lichens growing in the field.

"We'll go to him together, then," Paya said. "I'll help however I can." She was looking at her feet, but slowly, slowly she raised her eyes.

Zelda nodded.

They walked across the rest of the plains in step. The past pulled at Zelda's thoughts, and the future pulled, too, and Paya's presence held her in the moment. Perhaps any person could have done that. Yunobo might have kept her anchored, or Sidon, or Riju, or Purah, or even Teba—but she was glad it was Paya. She was glad for the familiarity and for the surety.

They exited the forest of dead Guardians and crossed the field toward the ruined Fort Hateno. It had not changed, of course. There was no reason for it to feel different.

But the great and perfect circle of dead space where no grass grew yawned, calling to her. The air above it was still, and she knew that when she crossed into that dead zone that the wind would die, too.

She stopped on its edge, staring into that cold space.

"That's what it is," she said.

"What what is?"

"I died here." Paya's flinched, and Zelda looked to her friend. She still felt removed, but not in a sour, floating way. "I came here to remember my death, I think."

Paya's calm was nearly perfect. "We—you do not have to do this."

With her free hand Zelda reached over, resting her palm on Paya's shoulder. "I do. Will you wait for me, here? If you think I am distressed, then you can feel free to rouse me."

Paya nodded, though it took a visible effort. Then she took a step back, bowed, and knelt on the ground in a meditative pose, hands clasped in front of her.

Zelda stepped into the circle.

Last time, she had been on her horse, removed from her surroundings. Now, with every step, she could feel what happened here. One step, and she heard thunder, the roar of the Master Sword. Two steps and the sound of Guardian weapons firing.

A third and her own voice was ringing in her ears, screaming pain and defiance.

A fourth and Link's arms cradled her.

A fifth and the Calamity's roar shook the earth.

Golden light poured from her eyes, and then her body was awash in it.

She stepped into the center. The memory already had hold of her.

The thunder of the Guardian's legs upon the plain was drowned out by the ringing of the princess's power, a light that called out with the voice of the divine. Link heard neither; the Master Sword was in his hand, an extension of his arm, an empowerment and bettering of his body.

Any Guardian that drew near to Zelda was annihilated, the Malice driven out of them and their lifeless husks left to drop to the ground around her. She had deferred to his order and stayed before the gate of Fort Hateno. She had wanted to fight with him, but she was too powerful as a last line of defense and the people of Hateno Village would be helpless if even one got past her.

None would.

Impa was near Zelda, sword out, watching for the distant possibility that the Yiga might choose this moment to interfere, but as of yet she'd had no reason to actually swing it.

If he fought properly, there would never be a reason.

The Guardians weren't supposed to be able to learn. He'd been told that many times before, by every researcher who thought they'd been talking over his head. That the Guardians had stopped trying to get past Zelda, that they'd turned all their attention to him, must have been the result of a more powerful will driving them. The Calamity's hand at work.

In another time, another life, Link would have been hindered by needing to protect the princess. He would have interposed his body between her and the machines that sought to kill her, and even with perfect technique he would be worn down. His strength was not infinite. He would fall.

But here, Zelda was so strong. She did not need a protector. Not in that moment. So, Link fought without reservations.

A Guardian turned to track him, but there was a delay in its reactions and the Master Sword clove through the space under its head. The top segment went sailing into the air, spewing flames and blue smoke. A group of three hauled themselves over the corpses of their fellows and he was among them, cleaving, and ten legs were pried loose before he thrust once into their underbellies, pulling the sword free in a spray of fire as the Guardians flailed and roared and shone with a terrible light. All three exploded in a chain, and he was already on to the next group.

They came in their tens, in their hundreds. Their weapons fired with digital precision, and he brought his shield up to reflect the killing bolts back into his attackers' watchful eyes. Explosions erupted across the battlefield as shots were reflected or went wide, and plumes of smoke and churned earth only gave him cover as he ran between Guardian after Guardian after Guardian, the Master Sword singing devastation in his hand.

He knew his strength. He knew how he moved through the world. He knew what it demanded of him. He watched as bolts of destructive power tore through the air at him, and his mind and his body moved twenty times faster than the average knight's. His limbs screamed as he tore through the horde, but he did not feel that pain. He did not feel fear, nor excitement, nor pride, nor fulfillment. Just the sword in his hand, the wind on his face, and the sure knowledge that the light in the distance meant that Zelda was safe and so was everyone behind her.

A group of four reared in front of him. There were none beyond those.

All four fired. Not quite simultaneously—there was a beat between each shot.

He brought his shield up and swung with his body, parrying the first projectile and ducking under the second. The third and fourth sailed over his shoulders as he charged. The earth behind him erupted, the force of the wind pushing at his back. The Guardians adjusted their targeting.

The reflected projectile struck the Guardian on the furthest to the left, and the explosion nearly knocked it over backwards even as it knocked the other three off-balance. He leapt at the one least affected, furthest to the right.

There was a high whine as its weapon charged, and then the tip of the Master Sword pierced its eye. The flared hilt caught on the socket, and he pulled the sword up and loose, tearing open the top half of its head. The second Guardian's head turned just in time for him to leap past it, slashing at the connection between the head and body. The head spun out of control as fire spewed from the joint, and the third Guardian was still trying to locate him in the smoke when he drove the point of the Master Sword down into its crown, between the crenellations on its head, then tore up and away. The fourth Guardian was still stunned when he leapt down in front of it, carving a long and hissing gash from its eye all the way down to the ground.

He dashed away. All four guardians exploded, one after another.

He turned in the field, sword up.

The wind blew, and though rain still fell, the Blatchery Plain was quiet. No more Guardians were coming. Behind him, the ringing of Zelda's power faded.

That wasn't all of them. It couldn't be. In all likelihood, many more had been directed toward Akkala Citadel. Once the citadel fell—he could not lie to himself—the remaining Guardians would be on their way. And more might still be coming from Hyrule Castle Town.

But for now, there was silence. He breathed, mindful of how precious that silence might be in the next few hours.

"Link!" Zelda's voice from the gate. He turned, saw her waving to him. "No more are coming! I want to confer, and decide on our next course of action!"

He sheathed the sword and returned to her. He did not run; if he ran, it would betray a lack of confidence. She needed him to be confident; right now, she needed him unshakable. His stride was even and level as he walked toward her.

Impa bowed to Zelda, pressing her fist to her chest and saying some words that he couldn't catch. Zelda nodded, and then Impa was moving, scaling the wall of Hateno Fortress so quickly it was like she simply leapt over it. Zelda watched her attendant leave, kept watching the spot where the last flash of Impa's uniform had been visible.

When he drew near, the princess said, "I sent her to Hateno Village. They probably have had no warning, and should be prepared in case more Guardians should arrive while you and I tend to other matters."

"Ganon." There was nothing else that could rate higher to her.

She turned to him, then, the rain weighing down her hair, her eyes wide and watchful. She nodded. "Yes. You were right before, of course. There is still a battle to be won." Her hands shook, presaging disaster, but with visible effort she stilled them. "I am still able to fight. Are you?"

He inclined his head.

"Good. I... I don't know if I tire the same as other people, anymore. I have thought of your strength as limitless for a very long time, now, but... please tell me if you need rest."

Now his answer was of a different kind: "Can you sense Ganon?"

She sighed, closed her eyes. "I will try."

She did not glow with the power; there was no ringing of a bell; he had no means by which to know that she was using the power at all, much less to judge how she leveraged it. He turned away from her, crossing his arms, and observed the Blatchery Plain.

Nothing moved. There were Guardians whose corpses still twitched, and fires in their guts still blazed a brilliant cerulean even in the rain, but no new attackers revealed themselves. Still; that could change quickly. The Yiga would be drawing near soon, he thought. They would not be so easy to see coming.

She gasped. He drew the sword. Above them, the sky grew still; had the rain ceased to fall?

"It's coming," she said, her voice a strangled whisper.

The last raindrops hit the ground as a bellow from the direction of the castle shook the firmament. He held out his hand, motioning for her to stay behind him as an eruption of Malice and light hurtled from the highest parapet. Even from that distance of kilometers, even from the heart of the kingdom, the Calamity's eyes burned visibly as it screamed toward them.

For a man, Link was swift. Ganon, though, crossed the leagues from Hyrule Castle to Fort Hateno with such speed that the air behind it tore open, leaving a guttural scream in its wake that whirled with fire and death and pain.

He sank into a defensive stance. Behind him, Zelda's power flared to life.

Ganon landed with stunning delicacy. The Hero laid his eyes on it for the first time.

It was not a solid creature—it was nearly a storm, more ephemeral than concrete, like a cloud of whirling smoke with a head like a hideous, misshapen boar's. It curled in on itself, serpentine, and its eyes remained on the Hero and the Princess. It roared, its jaw opening past a hundred and forty degrees, as if to devour the world.

"Something's wrong," Zelda said behind him. He did not look, but something in her tone was confused, and that chilled him. "It's not supposed to meet us here." Confusion shifted to panic. "'Supposed'? What does that mean?"

The Calamity's bellow shook the earth, and the enormity of its evil flowed out into the ground like poison. The sword writhed in Link's hands, as if begging to join the fight, and Ganon's eyes focused on its deep blue brilliance as the jaws snapped shut.

"Link, this might be some kind of trick. I don't think I understand, there's too much information for me to process—I see you wounded—"

The Calamity drew into itself, the head sinking down into the rest of the maelstrom, and the smoke contracted and whirled more fiercely until it was a uniform ball of hissing, burning vapor. Smooth. Almost... solid.

Legs sprouted from the bottom of the cloud, and they were the size of a great tree's boughs. The body of the cloud contracted into a torso larger than a horse, and the arms that sprouted from those broad shoulders were thicker than a Goron's waist. Ganon's head raised from the dark, and the impression of a demonic boar was still there, its golden eyes still burning.

"Its body—is that its body? Is—"

He shifted his weight to his left leg.

Its eyes focused on the princess. It smiled. It hungered.

He launched himself.

"Wait!"

It opened wide its palms and twin swords erupted from the shadows; steel rang on steel as the Master Sword roared like thunder.

Ganon moved like nothing Link had ever seen before. Its speed was a match for his own, and it wielded two blades larger than the Hero as if they weighed nothing. He moved between the blows with the rhythm of a dance, smashing his shield into the Calamity's wrist, sending its guard open. Its other hand came down, and he shifted inside of its range, bringing the Master Sword up across its forearm. There was an eruption of Malice and Ganon's wound closed.

They sank into the rhythm. Their swords clashed dozens of times, more, and Link found himself moving faster than he had ever moved in his life, as if his entire purpose was being condensed down into this moment.

The exchange lasted for four seconds.

Ganon staggered and Link plunged the Master Sword into its stomach before tearing it free. He cut at the tendons behind its knees and as it toppled he slashed at the backs of its hands. Its swords fell into the grass and dissipated as the monster's enormous frame fell onto the earth.

It was laughing as he leapt over it, sword held high. He did not ask why; he descended, aiming for its heart.

Far in the distance, all the way from the mountains that bordered the Gerudo Desert, there was a flash of blue.

Link understood. Accepted what was about to happen. Descended. He would kill Ganon anyway.

"NO!"

An invisible hand wrapped around his chest, embracing him as if he were a doll. The light before him grew brighter as he was drawn hurtling backward, the Master Sword still in his hand.

Then he was standing in front of Zelda. Ganon's laughter was more terrible than its roar as Link looked back at the princess. She was aglow with the power, it was fire beneath her skin, and tears were streaming down her face.

She threw her arms out, as if warding off a blow.

From four directions—from the Hebra range, and from Death Mountain, and from Gerudo Desert, and from Zora's Domain—came four beams of terrible, erasing light. The mountains that stood between the attackers and their targets burned away to nothing as power meant to wound the Calamity was leveled against the people it should have protected.

All four beams intersected on the divine princess.

Link, in the months that he had spent traveling with Zelda, had heard her in many moods. He'd heard her voice tremble in real fear; he'd heard her despair as the power refused to awaken in her; he'd heard her dread returning to her father; he'd heard her laugh in strained, temporary happiness; he'd held her as she'd wept in the rain.

But now, as the earth around them disintegrated, as the world was swallowed in blue light, as the fire under Zelda's skin blazed brighter than the noontime sun, as she held back the attacks of all four Divine Beasts with celestial power and an incomprehensible will, she screamed. Ganon's laughter was drowned out by a throat-splitting wail so agonized that Link felt an echo of that pain in himself and he wanted nothing in that moment except to take that pain and to pull it into himself, anything, anything to help her.

And he watched, helpless, as she held back the walls of light. He was, in the end, only a man with a sword, and he understood that he had failed to protect her.

An eternity later, the light dimmed. The stolen weapons of the dead Champions dwindled and were still. Zelda's scream faded. The power, exhausted, faded from her skin.

She opened her eyes. Looked at him. Smiled.

Then her eyes rolled back and she fell.

The Master Sword hit the ground. He caught Zelda. Lowered her. His fingers were at her throat, her wrists, checking her pulse as he held her in his arms. He did not speak. He could not. She breathed. Her heart beat.

"Link."

Her eyes opened and she looked at him.

"Please. Please do not look so afraid."

He lowered her to the ground. Made sure that her neck was aligned.

"Link. Look at me."

Her hand came up, resting against his cheek, and turned his head slowly so that their eyes met.

"The chamber. They'll take me to the chamber."

In the distance, voices:

"Princess!" Robbie. The bard.

"Your Grace!" Impa.

He ignored them. They were nowhere. They were nothing. Her eyes were so clear as the dark pulled at her; he had seen people dying before, and that was the look she had in her eyes now.

"You have to hold it back, Link."

Behind him, a churning and a conflagration as Ganon reshaped itself.

"There is a place beneath Hyrule Castle. It escaped from there. You have to drive it back and you have to hold it there."

Her hand slipped and he held it in his.

"Do you understand? Hold it until I come back. Hold it—hold it for as long as it takes."

Her face was wet with tears. Her hands were shaking, or his were.

He nodded. "I will."

She loosed her grip. Closed her eyes.

Gently he laid her hand on her chest. Ganon's laughter became a roar behind him. He reached for the Master Sword.

His fingers closed on the hilt. He rose, turning, as Impa and Robbie's voices behind him disappeared into the background of the universe.

Ganon rose to meet him. Link marched forward to face the Calamity alone.

For the first time since he had drawn it from that quiet grove in a sacred wood, a mighty voice echoed in his thoughts: You will not be alone, my master.

Thunder as he clove through the Calamity's guard, driving it back inch by inch, as it realized what was happening, as its panic turned to hate and that hate to fury.

He never saw as Zelda's eyes flew open once more. As Robbie and Impa tried to speak to her, to assure her that all would be well, and she saw them not at all. As she reached sightlessly for the Hero's back, though he grew further and further away.

As she failed to speak the words that followed her into darkness:

"I'm sorry."

Zelda opened her eyes, raising her head. The air was still in that dead space, and the light faded from her skin, from her eyes.

She cast her eyes to the north, and through the hole in the mountain she saw Vah Ruta. A turn of her head and Vah Rudania's hazy figure was visible atop Death Mountain; another turn and there was Vah Medoh; lastly she took in Vah Naboris. They looked to Hyrule Castle, now, but she could imagine what it would be like to have them targeting her. She had, after all, just seen it.

Again she turned, this time with her whole body, and she looked at the place where Link had marched toward Ganon.

There was no one there. Of course there wasn't. No matter how hard she strained, she would not be able to see his back as he walked into a century of pain and warfare. She looked to the castle. He was there. If she strained, she believed she might hear him. If she reached out with the power, she might let him know she was there.

She did not. Out of caution, she did not. Out of shame, too.

"I did this to him," she said.

Paya had risen when she did, had stepped near to her charge. Something in Zelda's words made her flinch. "'This'?"

Zelda nodded. "I fell here. The Calamity used the weapons of the Divine Beasts against us. I was able to shield us with Hylia's strength, but the strain was so great that I could not take it. I died." She swallowed. "And as I lay dying I charged him with holding the Calamity. 'Until I come back,' I said to him. 'For as long as it takes.'"

Silence between them for a long time. Good. The silence matched the numbness in her thoughts.

From directly beside her: "You place too much importance on your command to him."

Zelda turned very, very slowly to look at Paya. The young Sheikah did not quail; if anything, her expression only grew more determined.

"More meaningful by far," Paya continued, "is that he carried it out." She paused, but only for half a moment, to give the words space to breathe. "Th-that he did it is what you should focus on. His action followed from your command—but your command, your hope, is not what has held back the Calamity for a century. L-Link is." There was not a line on her face; her expression was smooth, authoritative, almost commanding, and only the pacing of her words betrayed how nervous she was to speak so. "If you regret laying that burden on his shoulders—if you can see how he has fought for Hyrule for a century and feel anything but gratitude, and awe—then you dishonor his sacrifice. His p-p-pain."

Ah, there, truth, like a balm on her thoughts. She breathed in, and even in the dead space left behind where the goddess fell she could catch some sweetness in the air. There was sweetness, too. Nothing that had transpired or would transpire could take away from that.

For a hundred years he had fought. That was so much bigger than her guilt or her failure. She let that guilt go, then, or imagined that she did; if she could pick between guilt and gratitude, then she would have gratitude. Gratitude was strength.

"You are right," she said, and her heart broke a little for the expression of relief that washed over Paya as the tension left the Sheikah's body. "To dwell on that memory is selfishness, and I cannot be selfish. None of this changes what I must do, but—thank you. When I see Link again, I want to do so gladly."

Paya nodded. "I do too. There is nothing that would make me happier."

They worked together to prep their kit; they had expected that Zelda would be drained by the experience of the memory, had prepared for her to need rest, but she did not. Several minutes passed so that they could be sure.

Nothing that would make her happier. Zelda turned the phrase over in her head. It was just a turn of phrase. Illustrative exaggeration. Ambiguous, too, but reading too much into it would be—

No. No, she owed gratitude to many people. Very few could make claim to so much as Paya. So.

So, she asked, gently: "Nothing?" There.

The color rose in Paya's face in a way that hadn't happened in weeks. She seemed interested in looking everywhere but directly at the person she was talking to, suddenly.

I have pushed her, now, but I've given her space. I've given her time. Maybe it's not enough—but I have to check. There's no time left. We're coming to the end.

Finally Paya looked at her again. "May we talk while returning to the horses?"

"Certainly." They started off, then.

They had traveled perhaps a hundred paces in silence, Paya watching the road in front of her feet while Zelda watched Paya, when the bodyguard finally spoke.

"When I was a girl, I was raised on stories of the Hero and the Princess. I think I've told you that, before."

"You have."

Paya nodded, lowering her gaze still more until she was actually staring at her feet as she walked. "I... I loved those stories. Grandmother could talk so vividly about the two of you. You were like the protagonists of any myth, only you were... real. One of you was asleep, waiting to wake up, and the other protected Hyrule from destruction. If I'd ever been brave enough, I could go out and listen to the battle for myself." Her hair waved as she shook her head. "I didn't, of course."

"Imaginably not."

"The other children and I would play games where we would pretend to be the two of you, or monsters, or the people that you would rescue from the monsters. I-I liked the last role best. Playing as you always felt a little like a lie to me, even if the other children just found it empowering. But to be someone outside of you, s-someone who benefited from your strength, who could... could follow you, and... look up to you..."

A hundred paces of silence; Zelda could feel that silence bleeding away as they walked up the road.

"You and Link... both of you... I idolized you, growing up. And then one day the shrine at the top of the village started glowing, and a few days later... there you were. Stepping out of history, as heroic and determined as the stories always said you were." Paya raised her head, finally, and through a visible effort of will looked at Zelda. "You know the rest."

Zelda nodded. She felt removed from herself, or at least removed from the story being told.

"I've spent so long thinking about this while I travel with you. Agonizing over it, I suppose. I had all these... ideas, about what it meant. About how far above myself I was reaching to feel these things. How horrible it was to try to insert myself into your story." She stopped on the road, and Zelda stopped too. "I-I don't think those things anymore."

"Good." She didn't try to hide her relief as she sighed. "We've been through too much together for that."

Another hundred paces. The day was warm, the plains were quiet.

"I told my grandmother last night."

Zelda took perhaps a moment to realize how wide she'd let her eyes grow, then forced herself to relax. "What did she say?"

"I thought she would chastise me... but she didn't. She said to serve you—in whatever way would benefit you most."

All right. Good enough, I suppose. Now: "And what is it that you want?"

There should have been a pause, Zelda thought; certainly she'd been expecting one. She'd expected a moment to reflect on the feeling of the sun on her skin, how different that was from the rainy battle she had just remembered. She had expected to have time to gather herself, too.

She did not expect Paya to kneel, placing a fist on the ground and lowering her eyes. Zelda stopped, turned to face her friend.

"I want," Paya said, her cadence betraying how carefully she had been rehearsing this in her head, "to serve you. To protect you, where I can. To stand by you, where I cannot. To..." She stopped, swallowed with difficulty. "I want to be by you always. To be your constant companion, for protection and for service and for company."

"Paya..."

"It is all I want for myself. To be by you. I would be so happy, having that. Even if you..." Another pause. "Even if your love for the Hero leaves no room for me, I—"

Zelda put her hands on Paya's shoulders, guiding her to raise her head. Paya did. Zelda leaned down, pressing her lips to Paya's forehead. Held them there.

The princess stood straight, taking her attendant's hand and bidding her to rise.

Paya rose.

Zelda said: "No heart could ever be so full."

They walked together down the long road, back to their horses, and the silence was comforting.

There were shrines outside of the castle; one shrine had even rested beneath it, and would be by far the quickest, stealthiest way to reach the Calamity. To reach Link.

But Zelda did not want simply the stealthiest way, nor even the quickest. There was power in ideas; there was power in how one approached a problem to be solved. They would approach from the front. She would approach from the front.

So the tower to the southwest of Hyrule Castle was where gathered the strings of blue light, which twisted and coalesced into the two young women who had traveled so long to reach this point. The Sheikah Slate was in Zelda's hands, and she was examining the map even before the teleportation was finished.

Paya strode to the edge of the tower's lookout and gazed long and hard at Hyrule Castle in the distance. Malice boiled there; it had grown no less terrible in the weeks and months leading up to this bright, cool morning. She looked back to her princess.

After a time, Zelda looked up. "How long do you think it will take us to reach the front gate?"

"If we travel in a straight line across the plains and approach from the south, we will reach the ruins of Hyrule Castle Town just before noon. The gate will be only a few minutes beyond that." She watched as Zelda adjusted the straps on her pack, clipped the Sheikah Slate to her hip, and checked the scabbard in which the Ancient Short Sword rested. "Are you ready?"

Zelda smiled thinly. "Not at all. Let's go."

Paya nodded.

They unfurled their paragliders and clamped their forearms into the long-distance bracers that Purah had added onto the frames. Zelda called upon Revali's Gale. They were lifted into the sky—several times higher than the apex of the tower itself.

They glided toward Hyrule Castle.