Chapter 9

Instead of returning into the depths of The Goddess sword as she was so often accustomed to, Fi allowed her mind to wander, searching…searching for him. She didn't quite understand what caused her to worry over Link so; the mere concept seemed archaic, like a long lost memory. The very possession of such a human emotion concerned her. But humans could be careless, and she feared for the boy's resolution, and the important task at hand; he could not afford to become distracted. She had sensed a change in The Demon Lords aura. She could feel Links reactions to him when they were close…something she couldn't quite conjure a word for. She needed to know more about this unique bond if they were to succeed in their mission. Was it somehow crucial to its completion? She had her suspicions. She needed to see him with her own eyes. Fi cleared her mind of thoughts and questions, drifting along the edge of conscious and unconscious…reaching out with her mind…slowly she felt herself dissolving utterly in a swirl of thought and color as the scenery of the present drifted slowly away. She opened her gem-like eyes as her toes touched softly down upon a strange yet familiar surface. She had traversed this parallel world, The Purgatory of the Guardians, many times in her long sleep within The Master Sword in the days before Link had reclaimed the blade. A glittering mirror of water stretched endlessly before her, surrounded on all sides by a sea of infinite blackness. Her feet merely rippled the surface as she stepped forward, her booted toes remaining dry. Her ears strained for any sound, aside from the gentle, wet swish of water as the platform beneath her feet ebbed and flowed. She squinted in the lowlight at a point far in the distance. Her eyes could just make out the shape of a bright white figure, its arms suspended limply above its head. She glided forward along the undulating surface. As she drew level with the being, she could see thick manacles holding its wrists. Its head drooped limply between its shoulders, its knees folded beneath it. Its shoulders rose and fell as it drew deep, ragged breaths. Without lifting his head, Girahim spoke;

"Not to be rude, but I'm not really in the mood for entertaining." He growled into the rippling surface beneath him. Fi cocked her head to the side. This was certainly not the state she had intended to find him in. It changed things…His clothes and fine jewelry had all been stripped from him, and he cowered like a wretched animal before her.

"It is as I feared." She began, the usual musical monotony gone from her voice. "It seems Demise is willing to go to any length to stop the boy. Even so far as to destroy his one, true ally."

"If you've come here to scold me, you can save your breath, Goddess witch. A little peace from your insufferable yammering seems almost as worthwhile a wish as the return of my beautiful clothes." He turned a cold glare on her jewel-tone face. She raised her chin, considering him for a long moment before she spoke again;

"I've sensed a change in you Girahim." She said blatantly. "It is no accident you reside here in this way." He rolled his eyes, his head flopping back toward the glittering surface of his prison. "If you truly…how do I say…care for the boy…" His head snapped up again, contorting in a hateful grimace. He strained against the chains that held his arms. She had struck a chord.

"You listen to me, you hateful, Goddess-drooling brat, if you think for one moment you know anything about me or what I've been through…" He began in a vicious snarl, trailing off as he seemed to realize his temper had gotten the better of him. "You can go back to that whorehouse you came from and rot in an eternity of darkness, witch." He spat, not taking his black eyes off of her cool blue ones. What difference did his feelings make now? There was nothing he could do to help the boy…and nothing he could do to stop Demise.

"You have always possessed such a hot temper, Girahim…it certainly does get you into trouble, as it has become inherently clear that you do indeed harbor some feelings still beneath that cold, impenetrable exterior." A small smile tweaked the corner of her lips. "I predict…" She began in something of a mocking tone, "with 100% accuracy that you are in no condition to stave me off, therefore it would behoove you, and the boy, to listen to what I have to say." She leaned forward, regarding him with a penetrating stare.

"What, pray tell, do you propose?" He muttered into the floor, flexing his wrists uselessly.

"I find it interesting that your master has elected to chain you here when we both know very well that there is much more than a rusted hunk of iron binding you to this place." She continued in an obvious tone, as though he were supposed to somehow guess what the hell she was talking about.

"Ouch. Hitting me where it hurts…" He grated. She continued as though he had not spoken, drifting around instead to stare out at the blackness that surrounded them.

"I have come to know this world very well. I have spent many long years here, Lord Girahim. The only reason one would have for chains here would be to contain not only the body, but the mind. I find it ironic that a set of restraints such as this, whos original intent is to confine the body, are being used instead to separate your true free will from your real-world body." Her glimmering smile deepened as a flicker of realization creased his brow. Slowly, his eyes drew upward. She could sense a spark of purpose from within. "Now that I have your undivided attention, do you wish to continue to hear my proposal? Or have I made a horrible mistake in coming here, hoping that you could ever be persuaded—"

"Do you ever tire of hearing your own voice?" He broke in suddenly.

"You are one to talk." She replied levelly. He gritted his teeth.

"Go on then…"

"Drawing from what I know of this place, it can indeed be reached from a conscious state of being, but not by your conscious state of being…not now. Now, when my master succeeds in confronting Demise-"

"If he manages to survive long enough t-" Girahim interrupted again.

"WHEN THE MOMENT COMES…" Fi rode over The Demon angrily, "You will be called to serve The Demon King as his one, true weapon." Girahim puffed an irritated sigh. "When that happens it is my belief that a separate battle will be triggered…here…between you and I."

"Wonderful. Lets hurry on then, so that I can slit your throat and free us all from the incessant chirping that's causing my ears to bleed."How simply deplorable he was…

"For one who holds such a high regard for manners, I find it paradoxical how little you actually possess." She said darkly.

"I'm lying chained and defenseless in a dark, parallel underworld listening to my sworn enemy's guardian spout some undying drivel about how I can somehow still redeem myself in this utter mess of a fool's quest. A little grace isn't too much to ask now, is it?" His haggard face brightened, a smirk spreading on his face. She sighed before going on;

"As I was saying…when that happens, a battle between you and I will precipitate here. But you will not be yourself…you will not know yourself as you do here and now. Demise will still have utter control over you during those moments. However, I believe there is a hitch that The Demon King has not counted on. A small thread that we may be able to exploit."

"You seem strangely uncertain for someone who claims to have all the answers" Girahim drawled arrogantly. Fi pressed on as if she hadn't heard;

"Now comes the good part…" She drifted close to him, raising her fingers. With a snap, The shackles holding Girahims arms disappeared. He stared wide-eyed at her as he rubbed his sore wrists. "I have just broken the bond that holds your will at bay, but rest assured your body is still trapped here, so don't even think of running." Her penetrating glare seemed to fill the empty tunnels of his black eyes.

"Then why bother tormenting me…" He breathed. She took a deep breath, as though she had come to the point in her story that she was most excited to reveal;

"When you arrive here, in the form of your sword deity, you will be under Demise's sway, as a part of him is currently occupying your physical body, unless I miss my guess. The form standing before me now won't recognize the form you will take as The Demon King's guardian. You will want to defend yourself against this force. Do you understand?"

"Are you saying I will be seeing another version of myself?" Girahim asked, pushing himself to standing.

"In a way, yes..." Although it didn't show in her cerulean cheeks, Fi felt a rush as he stood, completely bare before her. He grinned at her embarrassment. Insolent man-child, she thought raising her fingers again. Snap! A linen waist-robe appeared, the sashes winding themselves rapidly together.

"Ouch!" He snapped as the fabric bit into his skin. "Concentrate on what you're doing, will you?!" She merely smirked at him. "So what am I supposed to do?" He grunted, fingers attempting to loosen the sash. "Keep myself from killing myself?"

"On the contrary, you and I are actually going to kill yourself." His hands fell back to his sides at these words. He understood now. She was silent for a moment, as though waiting for him to say something. When he didn't, she broke the silence.

"Surely you must understand it is the only way. While it won't ensure your complete freedom, you will at least no longer be divided…you will no longer be bound here."

"No?" He laughed mockingly. "What a relief, witch, to be free of one prison only to welcome another." He knew. Too much of his body and soul were now bound by Demise, beyond his control. The destruction of Demise would mean the destruction of his external form which would mean severance from his physical body…perhaps forever.

"Would you prefer to live as a wretched slave for the remainder of eternity? Either way, when my master defeats Demise, the way forward is bleak for you. At least this way, your life can have meaning again. You can rest peacefully…freely…and know that the boy if safe. Surely, that at least matters to you." She broke off gently as he turned his back to her. Link. He knew what this division of his soul must be costing the boy…somewhere in another world. This might be his only way to help him…he tilted his head back, considering.

"Will I ever see him? See the boy again?" The words came awkwardly from his lips as though drawn out forcefully. Fi cocked her head at his back. He certainly had changed.

"I cannot make an accurate prediction on that point." She whispered. He sighed, turning back to her.

"Well…I'll be here then…perhaps knitting a sweater." He gave her a wry grin.

Later…

Link gave a start as the gate of the large, damp chamber he had stepped into slammed shut behind him. Great. How very typical. His eyes narrowed as he crept forward. The chamber was carved from floor to ceiling in a scalloped pattern of rough stone. Water dripped from the walls, and huge pillars rose out of sight into the endless blackness above. An eerie light filled the place. Faron had told him the first flame would be here, but not what might stand between it and himself. He ground his teeth. He wished Girahim could've practiced a tad more graciousness instead of forcing him to run around cleaning up his mess and finding a way to heal Faron. The dragon was almost as arrogant as The Demon. He was more than willing to help, of course, feeling guilty enough as it was; fraternizing with the enemy. He wondered what Girahim had wanted from her. Was he trying to find out where the other gate was? Suddenly a familiar chuckle sounded from the center of the room. Links eyes snapped upward, to the top of a strange looking pillar. It was plated in solid gold. There, lounging at the top was Girahim, clearly having recovered some of his old swagger. He stared fixedly at nothing in particular, lost in thought, but a smile was on his lips.

"You certainly are persistent…I'm terribly busy trying to find the clues that will help me revive the demon king." He sneered, sounding strangely as though he wished he were somewhere else. Link took a step forward, his eyes narrowing in the dim. Girahim looked tired, and worn. Not at all like his usual perfectly polished self.

"You don't owe him anything." Link called up to Girahim. "You don't need to do this." Link wasn't sure what he'd expected. He had hoped that perhaps The Demon would simply go into hiding; not really helping or hindering his master. There was definitely something different about him.

"I told you before boy. You would do well to steer clear of me. I must obey my master. You're incessant buzzing around my head like some irksome gadfly when I'm THIS busy…Well, it's making m…my master-very disagreeable." He stumbled. Girahim never stumbled on his words. He always knew exactly what he wanted to say and how he wanted to say it. He took great pride in his ability to pontificate so eloquently. This worried Link. There was something new and mysterious afoot. Girahim was not himself. "If you insist upon seeing this fools mission through to its completion, you cannot expect me to just stand aside. I have come too far. I have risked too much. I have suffered…." He trailed off, still carefully avoiding Links eyes. Lord Girahim tossed his head fretfully, recovering himself; "I hope you have enjoyed your time in the Cistern. I would be kidding myself if I thought even for a second my master's next challenge for you might be your last…much as it pains me to admit, you do have some skill…" Girahim rubbed his temples with his hand. He seemed…distracted. "But, with any luck he will slow your progress enough for me find out where the next gate lies." He raised his fingers, and with a snap he was gone. Link didn't have time to dwell on any part of this encounter; the ground began to tremble. The gold-plated thing in the center of the room that Link had assumed was a pillar began to twitch. Small, beady red eyes blazed in its metal mask of a face. Link sighed irritably reaching for his whip…here we go again.

Some time later, Link removed his cap and shook his hair vigourously, sending droplets of water flying in all directions. Travelling by water spout was decidedly not his favorite way to get around. As he raised his head, a brilliant green flame, several feet high blazed to life in a great brazier, perched upon The Goddess' symbol, carved in stone. He walked mesmerized toward it, unsheathing his sword as he did so. So this was a part of the great power Fi spoke of. As if the thought had summoned her, Fi leapt forward to hover before the flame. She spread her wing-like arms, and as she did so, the great green flame sprang to her, enveloping her in a ball of fire. With a ferocious energy the ball ricocheted from wall to wall, coming to rest at Links feet, the flames practically lapping at his toes. The warmth felt wonderful after the never-ending dampness of the Cistern.

"Raise your sword master." She instructed. Link could just see her outline within the dancing inferno. Slowly he raised the blade until it hung horizontal in front of his face. Several smaller balls of fire surged forward, disappearing one by one into the sword. The blows almost made Link stagger back, but he held his ground. He could already feel a new warmth in his fingers. Suddenly he felt a white hot sensation sear the back of his hand. He turned it over, his eyes widening as a golden triangle pulsated brightly from under his glove. What did that mean? He would have to dwell more on it later. Fi hovered before him; "The sacred flame has purified your blade, enhancing and evolving it. With your sword now enhanced, you are ready to learn a new melody. We should return to the Isle of Songs."

Links head buzzed with new questions as he gripped his Loftwings feathers more tightly. The sun was dipping low on the horizon. He needed rest and time to think before returning to the Isle of Songs; the place where a child Girahim once took refuge so long ago. Link steered the bird toward Skyloft, with a strong appetite for a bowl of pumpkin soup.