For this and all the following chapters, know that I own nothing of the characters and a lot of the main plot.
Whether skyward bound, adrift in time, or steeped in the glowing embers of twilight, the sacred blade is forever bound to the soul of the hero.
A soul that has lived a thousand lives, yet in so few did it have to fight. In so few did it draw that blade, did it stand tall and contest the essence of destruction.
And ever so rarely was it that he was remembered, but there were few times when his enemy grew to a strength that made it unavoidable.
The origin. The Demon God Demise. Forger of ceaseless despair, weaver of an army of malice and corruption. The first hero held back an infinite army so that the world could live, and died so that the goddess could seal the destroyer away. The first rebirth of the hero marked a second battle, the death of the goddess, and the true sealing of Demise. Here was the curse born, that his hatred would become eternal, that the blood of the goddess and the spirit of the hero would always be contested by him.
And so the hero of the skyward realm built upon the world to come, bringing hope and life to a world that held none of it before him and his.
And so it was that many battles were had, centuries later, over the sacred remnants of the world's creation. The Triforce.
Ganondorf, King of the Gerudo, slayer of the world's hope, bearer of the Demon-God's will, was one of the first that is remembered in this day and age. Deceiving the hero, he grasped hold of the Triforce, and claimed the throne of subjugation. A tyrant.
Thusly did the hero, wielding the blade of evil's bane, cut a grim swathe through his greatest servants. The essence of Hyrule's darkness, the great dragon of Death Mountain, even the devil witch Twinrova.
And with a strength gained that could shatter mountains, and blessed blade in hand, he freed the sages of the land. An indomitable will was his, greater than any except his first incarnation. And even then, he was shaping to be stronger still in courage.
With a last gift from the goddess's blood, a holy arrow that could rend asunder Ganondorf's dark magic, he rode forth to slay him. Yet even when he did so, he was not done. With divine music, and greater knowledge and will than he had before, he returned to the days of his youth. Back to when Ganondorf had not yet become ruler, and slain him so that a cursed future would never come to be.
Yet still was the hero's story unfinished, as he spent a dozen years in three endless days to stop another demon, in another land. From then he faded into obscurity, and eventually died a quiet, peaceful death.
And so he was remembered as the hero of time, deeds both remembered and forgotten and destroyed and remade for the lives of his people, for the will of his goddess.
Swiftly did the millennia passed, again the Ganon rose to power. Yet this time did the Triforce of Power linger within him, hidden until the sages of the realm again attempted to seal him away. In terror, they sealed him away in the Twilit realm.
Yet here did Ganon delve into the darkest of Magics, building a closer image to Demise than any before him had, near godlike in strength. With a mere whisper of words, corruption invaded the mind of one of the Twilight kingdom's most twisted, before that spread. The world of light being drawn instead into shadow, and the hero's soul awakening once again to its duty.
The Triforce of Courage, more willing to join this hero than any other before, purged the twilight from the hero's body, twisting him into a creature of holy form. the wolf of Faror.
Thusly did the cursed princess of the Twilit realm bring him to the goddess, thusly was his quest given a semblance of clarity. Gather the shards of heretical power, free the world from the twilit realm, and defeat the Dark god. Slay his acolyte, ensure that light can thrive once more.
And so his quest progressed, and when he eventually encountered the Acolyte, the usurper king Zant, he was unprepared. The Twilit princess was to die, yet the blood of the goddess intervened. Gifting the very heart of her soul to the companion of the hero, he was told to grow stronger still, to combat against the usurper once more.
Throughout this path was he visited by memories of a past life, gifted by the Triforce of Courage. The hero of time himself, now a revenant, taught him the way of the blade.
With those memories, awoken through ancient stones that held the powerful remnants of songs that could once heal the broken and bring rest when none could, he became nearly as able a swordsman as the hero at his height.
Now holding master sword in hand, he entered the Twilit realm. Strengthening it with the last holy relics of the Twili people, he fought against the usurper, the last blow dealt by the cursed princess herself.
Heretic's remnants back in their possession, they returned to slay Ganondorf. After a long, grueling battle the hero triumphed. The goddess's blood was returned to life, and the twilit princess's curse was broken.
The hero watched in horror as the now freed shadow queen shattered the connection between dark and light, between his realm and hers. She left him behind so that his world could live.
And with that, the hero of twilight suffered as the last embers of shadow faded into ash. He served his goddess for years after that, yet he always mourned that loss.
Millenia passed by, memories fading into diminished history. The Triforce was secreted away within the goddess's blood, and through the actions of a final nameless hero was Ganon sealed away beneath the Earth.
Yet this tale, what does it speak of? Why mention the legends of long passed heroes?
I share this tale, not because of what is, but what will be. What already occurs. What already has. Even now the memories long since passed are coming alive again, in a way they never have before. I stand in a plane of white, as I did when I taught my reborn form. Beside me stands the Twilit hero, and beside him that of the Skies. Three of our most powerful incarnations, here once more. Why? It took the songs that I once learned, songs that could heal the soul, and bend time itself for the twilit hero to remember what it was I knew of the blade.
Yet… Ah. Our newest self stands closer to death than any of us before. His memories become ours, even as I think this. Mechanical beasts, once thought to be a symbol of hope, only to twist into that of despair. The hero fighting against an army of them, destroying dozens to protect the blood his soul had protected for an eternity.
For each destroyed came two, three, creatures that alone could defeat battalions rushed at him in dozens. And as his despair grew, as our spirit began to break, so too did the blade tied to it. Tarnishing, shards snapping, withering. The master sword, one we three each knew so well. And to see it ache, see it burn so much, it was a deep sorrow we felt.
A beam through the bicep, not quite deflected by the blade. The laser crashing into the ground behind him, an eruption of force akin to one of my stronger bombs. Yet he stood again and fought. A Hylian who had learned from each of the four other champions, albeit begrudgingly on the part of one. Triforce shining on the hand of the princess, power awoken, pushing back the dark for now. Yet his wounds were too harsh, her strength appearing too late.
And now he healed, slowly. None had been closer to death, and reincarnation. Upon that edge, his old memories were beginning to surface once again.
With that, the new hero awoke upon that plane and wept. What else could he be, except dead? I shook my head and strode towards him. Widened eyes snapped up to me, even as I began to speak. A skeleton I was, a revenant. The twilit hero appeared nearly as much a wolf as he did a man, even as the hero of the skies looked as much a living Hylian as he did when he fell, albeit a touch more transparent.
"You walked a dangerous edge, descendent of our soul. A very dangerous edge indeed."
A blade appeared in the young warrior's hand, pitted, rusted, a blade I knew well. Even as it swung towards me I deflected it with ease.
"That ancient blade you wield, as we all have, yet in your own hands it dies."
He faltered, before hastening to strike me again. Time almost seemed to slow to a crawl as his weapon blurred, yet time was not his to master. Not yet.
With the barest flick and twist, slamming the flat of my blade against his wrist, did his own go flying through the air. I let my weapon drop from my palm as I caught the Master Sword. The blade… Wept, for lack of a better word. It suffered. Muted recognition flashed through it in a moment, before it began to calm, almost whimpering.
"You hold more courage than many before you, yet never before has one of us come closer to breaking. And in time, you may be worthy to wield this weapon once again. Yet your will is weak, it must be strengthened."
Murmurs flickered through the minds of Time, Wolf, and Sky. Of a century of healing, that he would be here for so long. "Train him, teach him in my name, in the name of your goddess. This I ask of the three of you. This I command."
A silence at that. Still the boy wept, still he mourned. A will to be tempered, and strengthened.
"So this is what I have become then?"
The hero of the skies almost seemed curious as he approached our incarnation. Memories were no doubt flooding his mind already.
"To have so near faced a fate such as mine, well, it is unexpected."
Hylia's chosen kneeled down, with a face so similar yet so different to his own, and helped him to his feet. "Who- did I…?"
The champion seemed to dread asking. I would have frowned if I could have. "You are not dead but are near it. Had we not been here, no doubt your mind would have torn under the strain of solitude. Rejoice in that you have another chance, where many do not."
He does not respond, his expression becoming more crestfallen regardless. The dead heroes glanced at each other, before sharing a sigh. We would let him mourn for a good while longer, but when that was done?
When that was done, we would work to make the young man before them a force incomparable. After all, in such a state, what can one do but help themselves? Hours upon hours passed them by, the champion garbed in torn blue clothing falling into an uneasy slumber. Time simply sat with a grumble, hand finding an ocarina of blue even as the hero of the sky passed the time by playing songs on his harp. Perhaps a day had worn on when the hero awoke with a gasp, glancing around with a swiftly paling face.
Still, he did not speak but instead shivered. I stood up from the ground, even as Sky gave our living member a wave. The twilit hero just eyed Link quietly.
Link slowly stood up, aches and pains seeming to not be there despite the wounds still appearing to be on his body. My single eye, glowing a deep red, locked onto the gaze of Link's own. I walked long strides towards him, and past him, to a pedestal. Within it stood a rusted and beaten blade, an iconic weapon of who we were. I brushed a skeletal hand across it, phantom shivers crawling up my arm at the presence I felt from the weapon.
It was no longer mine to use. But for now? No longer was it his.
One hundred years to train. A hundred years to master what we had to teach him… I turned back to him, watching as he started to walk towards me.
"Do you want to do what you could not? Save what you still can?"
Almost immediately, a nod meets what I say. It is weary, but I can see the barest start of a spark in his eyes. I plant a blade at his feet, push a shield roughly into his hand, and step back. "Then you have to be stronger."
The spark grows, and with it does a hope for Hyrule's own future. My own ancient blade slashes out to meet his, his arms straining against the strength of my blow. One hundred years? That would be enough. A second blow, this time more confidently parried.
That would be enough, indeed.
AN: Hey there. I'd like to have some opinions on this. Whether you'd like to see this continue, and if so, where you'd like it to go. How much training should be mentioned? Most, or little bits interspersed throughout the story? Please tell me what you think, and thanks for reading.