Hey, party people!

You want it, you got it - another chapter of Corrupted Hero. And it didn't take me a month to write this time! I promise, I'll do my best to stick to a schedule. I'm going to aim for biweekly updates, so stay tuned! :)

Man, this one was a joy to write. I hope you enjoy it as much as I loved putting it to paper. It's nice and long, too, so get settled in. Trust me, it'll make you feel things. And, might I add, give you some long-awaited answers! ;)

Before I go, I just want to say thank you, one and all, returning fans and brand-new readers. You really make my day when I see that you have read this piece. Thank you for tuning in and supporting me! You mean the world to me, you really do. I hope you're liking what you're reading. And hey, since we're all pretty much stuck at home, why not give you something to read, right? It's my pleasure to entertain. :)

Oh, and quick shout out to Oracle of Hylia for pointing out a Hyrulean colloquialism to me that I never thought of before. Thanks for the pro tip! I appreciate it!

Enjoy!


It was well past noon when the doors to the lab finally opened.

Link, still at the lakeside below, didn't notice. He lay on his back beneath a tree, the crook of his arm draped over his eyes. His Malice-slathered hand clung to the scorched grass beneath him in a death grip, thumping softly with his heartbeat. Gluing his jaw shut, he endeavored to ignore it, focusing instead on the whisper of the waves, the birdsong in the air — anything but the poison on his arm and his grim reality looming over his head.

His body may have been still, but he was anything but. His thoughts and anxieties were a hurricane screaming inside his skull. His muscles ached. His stomach churned. His blood frothed. And it was all because of the ghastly realization polluting his mind.

He had died.

And yet, there he was — living, breathing, agonizing over the thought of it. His brain was rending itself apart trying to work out how and why it could have happened — if it was even true. How could it be? Nothing made sense anymore. Link didn't know whether to scream or cry or punch something, but he didn't have the strength for any of it. All he could do was lie there, trembling, as he forced himself to shut out everything he thought he knew.

This, sad as it was, was his best attempt at relaxing — if one could even call it that. He had finally given in to Maz Koshia's request, but his surroundings gave away his earlier attempts to rid himself of his Malice. The Malice that, deep down inside, he knew had something to do with his resurrection. He lay in the center of a chaotic patchwork of charred grass marring the shoreline. Dried magenta blood crusted his ragged fingernails. His bags had been rifled through and thrown aside; blackened branches and chunks of flint littered the ground alongside a few Malice-slicked swords and a bent-out-of-shape frying pan.

He had tried everything. Everything. Even relaxation, as Maz Koshia had urged him to. But he had nothing to show for it. Utterly defeated, Link had belted out one final scream of frustration before he dropped to his back.

And that was how they found him — lying amidst the scraps of his own defeat.

Quiet footsteps padded against the grass, growing closer. Link almost didn't hear them — his mind was too full, stifling his hearing. It was only when the footsteps stopped a few feet away that he sensed someone nearby. Ears perking up, he raised his arm, his gaze flying toward his company.

His heart fell stone cold upon seeing them. Symin and Purah stood before him, both looking rather worse for wear. Their silvery buns were loose, flyaway hairs sprouting here and there. Symin's hand was bandaged, and he had taken off his coat. Purah's scarlet eyes were pink and puffy; she hid herself slightly behind Symin's leg. In spite of their haggard appearances, they offered Link soft smiles, both concealing something they had brought along.

Link could barely look at them. He wanted to roll over and hide his face, but he couldn't bring himself to do even that. Instead, he frowned, looking them up and down. He half-wondered what it was they had been up to that required sending him away. He'd been out there for hours.

Symin and Purah's eyes darted around the area, their smiles fading slightly upon taking in the pitiful shreds of Link's endeavors. Eventually, Symin shook it off, refocusing on Link. He took a step forward, putting on another smile for him.

"Hey," he began, keeping his voice light. "We, erm… brought lunch. Thought you might be hungry?" He held out what he and Purah had brought with them: three bamboo bento boxes, faint curls of steam rising from them.

Link blinked. Based on their appearances, he was expecting to hear bad news. Not this. If he stopped to think about it, he couldn't remember the last time he had eaten. But that was the very least of his worries. All the same, part of him melted at their kindness; deep down, he needed it. Desperately. But another part of him overshadowed that need, reminding him of his own worth. At the moment, he felt less than the dirt he laid in. He didn't deserve their kindness. Not after what he had done.

Link sighed, turning his gaze away. "Thanks, but I'm not hungry," he dismissed, his voice emotionless.

Symin cocked his head. "You sure?" he said, jiggling the boxes. "Made it myself. My mother's recipe: fried rice and wild greens. Purah threw some homemade candy in there, too." When Link didn't reply, he sighed, coaxing him gently, "You ought to eat something, Link. It'll do you good."

Link didn't want to argue. It just wasn't in him. And it seemed Symin wouldn't take no for an answer. As Link thought it over, the aroma of the food carried over to him, enticing his senses. Earthy mushrooms, sweet, steamed carrots. Fried eggs and salt. It breathed a bit of life into him, rousing his stomach.

In the end, he gave in. He didn't want to battle with his stomach, either. "All right," he relented, easing himself up.

Symin smiled. Gesturing to the ground, he proposed, "Can we sit with you?"

Link hesitated, his sludgy fingers tightening against the grass. He wasn't sure if he was ready for this, but forced himself to go along with it. As long as he kept his emotions in check, he — rather, they — should be fine. He hoped.

Before he could change his mind, Link replied, his voice shaky, "Sure."

He sat up, crossing his legs and his arms, tucking his Malice as close to his body as he could. As he did so, Symin and Purah came around, pushing away a sword or two to give themselves room. Symin sat across from Link. Purah meanwhile, seated herself right beside Symin, a fair distance away from Link. It pulverized his heart. He hadn't forgotten the terror he had struck into her earlier. His head hung, heavy with guilt.

Once they were situated, there was a brief pause. Symin glanced at the objects littered about, his eyes ultimately drifting to the fresh patch of Malice smeared onto Link's neck.

Symin's lips pursed. "No luck, huh?" he asked quietly.

Link's chest tightened, his Malice tensing. He shook his head.

Symin searched through the burned grass, trying to find the right words. "Don't beat yourself up over it." He thought for a moment before adding, "I know that's… easier said than done. This is new for you. It is for all of us. But we'll figure this out, Link."

As he spoke, Link's eyes flicked up toward him. He couldn't fathom how, in the midst of everything that was happening, Symin could be so supportive. So hopeful, reassuring. It was astounding.

Symin went on, "For now, let's just eat, okay? You look like you need it. Here."

He held out one of the bento boxes to Link, offering him another smile above the steaming food. Link shivered for some reason. He carefully took the box from him, ensuring he used his Malice-free hand.

"Thank you," Link murmured.

"You're very welcome."

Link set the box in his lap and faced his meal. It looked and smelled incredible. In one compartment of the box sat a pile of rice tossed with dark, leafy greens, diced carrots, chunks of scrambled eggs, and meaty mushroom slices. In another, a handful of amber-colored pearls of hard candy. They smelled sweet, like honey. A pair of chopsticks sat on the side, awaiting him.

"All right, well, eat up — if you like it," Symin mused.

The three of them ate in silence. Whether it was because the food was wonderful or they were avoiding conversation was unclear. Link's head hung during their meal, his eyes staring into nothing as he ate in an almost robotic fashion. Thankfully, the food was a welcome distraction from the harrowing thoughts that swirled in his skull. But he couldn't escape them forever. When he was able to see the bottom of his bento box, his mind began storming again.

He set his chopsticks down. Symin and Purah gradually put down their utensils as well, awaiting something. Only they weren't sure what. There was a long stretch of silence as Link stared into the lingering grains of rice in his box, the food sitting like a rock in his stomach.

"...Is it true?" he finally croaked out.

Symin and Purah exchanged a split-second glance. "Is what true?" Symin asked.

Link's shoulders sagged. He wondered, his voice weak, "Did I die in the Shrine?"

Symin and Purah visibly cringed. It took Symin a moment to gather his thoughts and pull himself together. He sighed, his eyes falling to the grass. "...The Shrine's logs pointed to that, yes," he muttered solemnly, rubbing the back of his neck. "We thought you might put that one together…"

So it was true, then. Goddesses above, it was true. Link's spine rattled as the thought of it seeped like poison deep into his psyche, curdling his blood. All at once, his body felt foreign to him, uncomfortable, like he had been forced inside it. Shoving away the gruesome thought, he swallowed down a wave of nausea that spontaneously bubbled up in his throat, breathing heavily through his nose.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he murmured.

"I…" Symin began to say. But he cut himself off as he beheld Link before him — shaking, his eyes aglow with pain. Symin sighed again, grasping for words. "I didn't know how to say it," he mourned.

Symin tore his gaze away from Link and to Purah for support, but she lowered her head. Wetting his lips, Symin admitted, "We didn't handle things very well back there. W-we, not you, Link. You reacted as well as we all would have if we were in your shoes." He shook his head, forcing himself to look Link in the eye. "We had no idea things would turn out like this. We should have handled things better and for that, Link, I'm sorry — on behalf of all of us."

Link and Symin stared at each other for a moment before Link's heavy head fell into his hands. Part of him was washed with bittersweet relief at the confirmation of his fears. The news wasn't comforting by any means, but it was a welcome, solid fact as he drowned in a sea of questions. Symin's sincere words somehow managed to touch him as well, breaking through his disturbing reality. He truly meant what he said, and Link could tell that Purah and Maz Koshia meant it as well, even if they weren't saying it themselves.

Link fully understood that this wasn't their fault, though the notion of it all still sickened him. But he knew that he had blame in the matter. His emotions had gotten the best of him, and that had nearly cost him his allies. It nearly cost Maz Koshia his life. Symin may not have blamed him for his reactions, but Link did. He owed his due apologies — and more — for flying off the handle as badly as he had.

"I shouldn't have reacted the way I did," Link said, a pang of regret stinging his heart. "You didn't deserve to be yelled at. I just… I-I couldn't even think… I'm sorry, too. For everything."

"It's okay. Given what you're going through, I don't blame you for it," Symin reassured him. "No one does." He held Link's eyes earnestly, asking, "Can you forgive us for failing you?"

A frown found Link's lips. He shook his head, stating, "You didn't fail me, Symin. It's… it's all right."

Symin's shoulders relaxed. "I'm very glad to hear you say that," he breathed. "I promise you, we'll figure this out. Together. And from now on, no more secrets." He paused, swallowing. He exchanged a glance with Purah, their eyes hardening. Symin then turned back to Link, reiterating, "No more secrets, no matter how bad they are."

Link wasn't entirely sure what he meant by that, but he was thankful that that was on the table, now. Ultimately, he was just relieved that, despite everything, the bridge between them hadn't been as thoroughly destroyed as he imagined. He had no idea what he would do without them, especially considering recent developments. He might have been in much, much worse shape if he didn't have the Sheikah on his side.

His relief was short-lived, however. Link's eyes fell to his Malice as it lay in his lap, his brow furrowing. "What does it all mean, then? I don't understand it."

Symin scratched his head. "We were actually wanting to discuss that together," he said, his eyes drifting to the hilltop above them. "Once we get your biometrics back, we'll have a bit of a better picture to work with. But it's still in the works... We'll just have to wait for it in the meantime. But when we have it, we'll get to work cracking this." He snorted. "It's been quite a morning — we could all use a bit of a break until then, I think."

It only then dawned on Link that, indeed, he had only met Symin and Purah that morning. It felt like a century ago. So much had happened already — and it was only in the afternoon. He had no idea what else awaited them as the day went on. He was almost afraid to face it. But he had allies, now. He had friends, people that understood him — for better or worse. Perhaps facing whatever came, alongside them, wouldn't prove too unbearable. He supposed he would just have to find out.

"All right," Link agreed softly, nodding.

Conversation faltered, then. They all stared at the grass, unsure of how to go on. They didn't have much else to do but wait for the data to come back. As they sat for a moment in silence, Symin's eyes drifted toward Purah. She squirmed where she sat, wringing her hands as if she wanted to say something. But she kept whatever-it-was bottled up. Feeling Symin's gaze, she glanced up. He gave her a pitied look. They both turned their gazes upon Link, watching him as he stared emptily into his Malice, his mind clouded.

For a few long seconds, Purah sat, clenching her little fists. Gathering her voice, she spat out, "Symin — can you give us a minute?"

Link and Symin jumped at her words, Link's head snapping up. Symin, brows raised, gave a slow nod. "I'll, er, go wash up," he said, gathering up the bento boxes and utensils. His eyes lingered upon Link for a second before he got to his feet, swiveling. He proceeded to walk around the edge of the shore toward the far side of the lake, leaving the two of them alone.

When his footsteps had faded away, a tremendous blanket of silence smothered Link and Purah. It was almost palpable. Neither of them spoke for what felt like ages as their gazes wandered between everything but each other. Link, his skin itching, eventually snuck a peek at Purah — her lips were pressed into a thin line, sweat beading on her forehead. Something was eating her up inside.

Just as he was about to ask her what was wrong, she finally broke her silence.

"I was there that day," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Link blinked, his brow furrowing. "What?" he wondered.

She kept her gaze fixed into the grass. Her eyes swam with memory, her face twisted against the images piercing her mind. "I was there," she repeated. "At the castle, the day this all started."

Link's heart gave two nervous thumps before she took in a deep breath and poured out her anxieties upon him, spiriting him away to that dreadful day.

"It had been like any other day," she began. "We were out on the lawn, doing routine Guardian testing. Things were looking promising; they were moving, they were… alive. It was amazing." Her eyes glittered with fondness at the memory before she suddenly winced. "One minute, everything was fine, and the next… the ground st-started to shake. At our feet, this… darkness… gushed out of the grass, like the earth was bleeding. It became this huge shadow, swirling around the castle — it blotted out the sun."

Her voice began to shake as she went on, "It didn't take me long to realize what was happening, but I still couldn't believe it. And then... that roar — " She shrunk in on herself, her hands flying to her ears. "Goddess, that roar. It's haunted me for a hundred years. I hear it in my sleep, sometimes. The beast… he l-latched onto the Guardians — made them his." She gulped. Hard. She then whispered, her voice tiny, "And then they came for us."

Ice shot into Link's blood as he listened. He remembered envisioning this harrowing story when King Rhoam had told him of the Great Calamity, but this… this was so much worse, for some reason. Link suddenly found his mind surging with flashes of smog-choked skies, raging fires. Hulking shadows ravaging a township. But he couldn't tell if he was truly remembering or just imagining it all.

But Purah remembered. The mere act of retelling it was ripping her apart. She stammered, her body shaking, "All at once, everything I had done for the kingdom — all of my research, all of my service… it was worthless. The relics I had loved so much became killing machines that I couldn't control." She pinched her eyes shut. "I watched them annihilate countless people. Neighbors, colleagues, friends… families. Knights. Men. Women, children. Everyone. They were incinerated. Trampled. Mauled. There were just… rivers of blood everywhere I stepped."

Link couldn't help but flinch, disturbed at the morbid images plaguing his mind. Purah wilted, releasing a strangled breath. "The bodies piling in the streets...," she choked out. "I ran across them to get away. I wasn't a scientist, anymore, I was a child. A coward. Hylia forgive me — I ran."

The heavy air weighed upon them more heavily than before, absolutely crushing them into the grass. Neither of them moved or spoke for a long, painful moment. Purah eventually dragged her bloodshot, tear-filled gaze up to Link. She gaped at him as if seeing him for the first time, eyes wide as she scoured his bone mask, his third eye, the Malice coating his arm. Link stiffened, his heart racing.

"And you don't remember a thing," Purah gasped. "I envy you, Link, I really do. I wish I could forget what I saw that day." She shivered, hugging herself. "I… I wish I could forget what I saw in the Shrine... W-when I saw that stuff — that poison — burst out of you, I just — I was there, again. Helpless. Watching them all die. W-watching Maz Koshia — !"

She broke off, her lungs hitching as an onslaught of horror tore through her. Unable to hold herself together any longer, her voice shattered, her words spilling out of her, "I got so scared, I-I couldn't even look at you — I know it's n-not your fault, but I couldn't do it. You didn't deserve that! To be treated like that beast! I'm sorry — I'm so sorry, Link!"

Purah crumbled into sobs, tears flooding down her face. Link's heart crushed into nothing as he watched her completely unravel. Without thinking, he got to his knees and crawled over to her, gingerly reaching out with his normal hand in efforts to comfort her.

"Purah…"

He never got the chance to even touch her before she threw herself into his side. She buried her face in his tunic, clinging to it. His throat clenching, he tucked her closer, holding her tight while she broke down in his embrace.

So that was why she had been so skittish. A stab of guilt pierced Link at the realization that he had played a part in rekindling her bottled-up fears. Her fears of Calamity Ganon. Tears stung his eyes, but he soldiered through them. He didn't know what to say to comfort the poor girl. He could barely process all that she had told him. What she had seen… nobody should have had to bear. Not for a day. Certainly not for a hundred years.

All he could do was let her cry it out. As he cradled her, he didn't for one second hold her frightened treatment of him against her. He completely understood her reasons. When he finally found his voice, he murmured, "It's okay, Purah… I would have done the same thing. I'm sorry you had to go through that..."

Purah hiccoughed, sniffling. She pulled her face out of his sodden tunic, looking up at him through the tears smeared against her glasses. "You shouldn't be sorry. You went through it, too."

"I know. But I can't remember it — you said it yourself," Link replied, his voice low. "I hate that I can't remember. I wish that I could." Purah blinked at that. Link's gaze fell upon his Malice, a scowl finding his brow. "I wish I could remember what I did wrong."

Purah looked hurt. "Link, w-what are you saying? You did nothing wrong. You fought. Hard. It was… just too much."

He shook his head. "No, something went wrong. Maybe if I knew what it was, maybe then we would know what to do…?" He closed his Malice-laced fingers into a fist. "Maybe then… I wouldn't be like this — I wouldn't have scared you."

Purah reared back a little, looking upon him with a disturbed sense of shock. She wiped at her eyes. "Link, we had no way of knowing that… this would happen," she said, gesturing to his Malice. "He took us by surprise. You're not to blame for this."

Link snorted. Something came over him, then — doubts began to creep out from the corners of his mind, darkening his thoughts. "You sure about that?" he murmured. Purah's brows raised. Link frowned. "You saw those logs. I died in that Shrine, Purah. I failed. W-what if I didn't want to fight anymore? What if I just gave up? What if I let this happen?"

She shook her head. "You don't know that, Link."

"You don't either."

"Yes, I do," she retaliated. She poked his chest, reaffirming, "I know it because that isn't like you. I knew you." Link stiffened at her words. Blinking rapidly, Purah corrected herself, "I mean — I know you, Link. You wouldn't just let this happen. You're not a quitter. Not then, not now. I mean, you're here, aren't you? If you weren't… then that would mean you had given up."

Link paused to consider that. In spite of all the obstacles that had stacked up against him, he had made the strides to get where he was. He had risen from the Shrine of Resurrection. He had listened to King Rhoam's wishes. He had fought a Yiga Clan member, traveled with a monk. Now, he was working alongside the Sheikah to understand his… condition. After all of that, he certainly couldn't say he had given up, could he?

"I guess that makes sense…" Link murmured.

He began to feel a glimmer of hope, but it was fleeting. A darker part of him was unconvinced. They exchanged a wide-eyed glance before Link turned away, his doubts creeping in further as he strained to think back, to possibly find some shred of memory to prove — or disprove — his fears.

Purah, growing concerned at his cynicism, reached up and pulled his face back toward hers, searching through it. Her eyes then trailed down him, past his Malice, until they landed on his tunic. Reaching out her hand, she pressed it into his side till he could feel her palm against his skin. Her touch gave him goosebumps.

She smiled faintly at his warmth, the gentle rising of his ribs as he breathed. "You're here... It's still you," she said tenderly. She peered into his glowing eyes. "You're still our Champion, Link. No matter what happens."

He swallowed the bitter taste coating his mouth. "You really believe that?" he murmured.

"I do," she replied. "And you should, too. You could stand to believe in yourself a bit, hero. We do. She does."

Link's heart fluttered. He knew who she meant. How could he forget? His shoulders fell. "...I know," was all he could manage.

Purah gave him a small smile and bumped his elbow with her fist. "Chin up, then, Linky. Things may be… kinda scary… but that doesn't mean it's over. Not yet. Not while you're still kicking. We'll make it through. We'll beat this."

Link's heart warmed at that. "Thanks, Purah," he murmured. "I think I needed to hear that..."

"Anytime, hero," she replied sweetly. Sighing, she added, "Thanks for listening."

Link smiled at her. "Anytime, Director."

Their exchange had, somehow, both soothed and exhausted them both. They sat in silence for a while, listening to nature around them. Link went quiet, his eyes on the water. As he found himself lost in the echoes of their conversation, Purah unconsciously ran her finger against his tunic, along a distinct, raised line of threading that neither of them had noticed.

Purah's brows crinkled as the threading began to jog her memory. "Huh," she mused, peering closer at it. "I don't remember this."

Link blinked himself out of his daze. "Remember what?" he asked, his gaze finding her hand where it rested on his abdomen, slightly above his hip bone.

"This, right here," she said, pointing it out to him. It was a long line of threadwork, several inches in length, the same cerulean as his tunic. "This used to be completely shredded. Looks like my sister patched it up. She did a pretty good job, actually."

Link blinked again. His brain had begun to itch for some reason. In the back of his mind, he remembered Impa mentioning that she had kept his tunic for safekeeping. Since she was the one who gave it to him, Purah's words made sense. The more he thought on it, the more the fragments of the past began to click together in his mind. Purah said that she didn't remember the repair work Impa had done. If Impa kept the tunic after the Great Calamity and repaired it then, then that would mean that Purah was one of the last ones to see the tunic in its ruined state.

"...You were the one who brought me to the Shrine of Resurrection, right?" Link wondered, squinting.

"Yeah. Me and Robbie, an old colleague of mine," Purah replied. "When you were brought to us in Kakariko, you were in miserable shape. You were covered in blood and dirt, but the worst of it was there." She poked the stitchwork again, her head cocking. "Not sure what happened to you, but I'm impressed Impa managed to get all the blood out. It was bad."

As Purah spoke, Link's head suddenly began to swim. But before he had the chance to process the information swishing around in his mind, a sudden chirp sounded from Purah. They both jumped, their attentions flying to her back.

"What was that?" Link wondered.

Her eyes went wide. She shimmied her arms out of the field bag she still had slung on her back, setting it down. Unclasping it, she reached in and removed the Slate Lite. It was giving off blue light in gentle pulses, chirping at them.

"That, my friend, was the sound of your data coming back..." Purah said.

"You mean it's done?!" Link gasped, giving a start.

Purah didn't immediately reply. She ran her finger along the Slate Lite's screen, her eyes skimming over the dense block of Sheikah glyphs shining up at her. "Oh, it's done, all right," she finally said. "Look at that…!" She glanced up to Link, a glint of trepidation in her eye. "...You ready for this?"

In spite of the sudden churning in his gut, Link firmed his lips, giving a strong nod. "Yes."

"That's the Linky I know," Purah beamed, a smirk on her lips. Gesturing to his Malice, she added, "C'mon, let's find out what makes you tick." Purah proceeded to wipe at her eyes, clean off her glasses, and give herself a motivational double fist-pump. She then got to her feet, donned her field bag, and turned toward the lake, hollering, "SYMIN!"

They spotted him across the water, kneeling by the shoreline. His head snapped up as he was scrubbing off bento boxes.

Purah brandished the Slate Lite and pointed to it, shouting, "DATA'S HERE! LET'S GO!"

Symin shot to his feet. "Coming!" he cried, gathering up the dishes and darting over.

As he made his way to them, Link stood on quivering knees. His hand automatically flew to his sludgy forearm, holding it tightly, a bloom of anxiety swelling in his chest. At long last, they were going to have some clear answers. He almost couldn't believe it. A part of him wanted nothing to do with the truth — the news of his death hadn't exactly been comforting — but he knew that not knowing was foolhardy. He had to know. He couldn't afford not to. Ready or not, it was time.

When Symin joined them, he wore an odd mixture of excitement and dread on his face. Tucking the bento boxes under his arm, he gathered next to Purah and took a peek at the Slate Lite. His eyes lit up with the abundance of data on the screen.

"This'll be interesting…" he hummed. Looking up, he gestured for them to move. "Maz Koshia will want to have a look at this."

Without hesitation, the trio set off at a brisk walk for the lab. As they headed up the hill, Link couldn't help but grow nervous at Symin's mention of the monk's name. He was reminded of the state Maz Koshia had been in when he implored him to go to the lake. The image of him draped over the pedestal, arms dangling worthlessly, made Link shudder.

"How is he?" Link asked quietly, his eyes on his feet.

There was a brief pause before Symin muttered, "Not good..."

Link swallowed, shooting Purah a worried look. Her expression was grim as she hugged the Slate Lite close to herself. "There were six burst fractures in his neck," she explained. "His spinal cord was crushed. We did our best to patch him up, but... he's paralyzed, Link. I'm sorry."

Link recoiled and nearly tripped, his heart bleeding with guilt inside him. His Malice gave a sudden thump, his hand flying to it.

"Oh, Goddess — " Link wheezed.

Before he could descend into full-on horror at himself, Symin added, wincing, "There's something else, too…"

But something stole everyone's attention before Symin could elaborate. They were nearing the lab. The doors were closed. Above the brushing of their feet against the grass, another series of sounds carried through the air, startling them. Crashing. Glass breaking. It was coming from inside.

Grinding to a halt on the doorstep, Link, Symin, and Purah all exchanged confused looks, listening. More crashing. Something spilling onto the floor. Someone was in the lab. Wearing shared expressions of alarm, Link and Symin made for the doors and threw them open, rushing inside.

Indeed, there was someone in the lab. But it wasn't an intruder. They all froze when they beheld Maz Koshia standing at the table in the heart of the room, his back to them. Symin's coat was bundled around his neck in a makeshift brace secured with twine, and he was muttering to himself. The floor was littered with mountains of paper and broken glass vials. The monk was clearing off the table, shoving away books, boxes of junk, and the venipuncture machine to make room for a slew of notepads, pencils, a map of Hyrule. As he worked, his movements were jerky and stuttered, as if he were fighting against himself to move.

Symin dropped the bento boxes. "Maz Koshia?!" he blurted, eyes bulging.

The monk sucked in a gasp and jolted as if he had been struck by lightning. He slapped his hands against the tabletop, his skeleton going stiff. But he didn't turn around to face them. It went uncomfortably quiet for a moment as everyone gawked at him. When he finally spoke, he didn't sound like himself. He sounded… strange.

"Tell me, Link… Is this what it feels like?" he marveled, his voice low, dripping with disturbed awe. "To carry him inside you…?"

Something within Link squirmed at his words. "W-what are you talking about?" he stammered.

Symin interjected before the monk could reply. "Maz Koshia, what are you doing?! How are you doing it?! You were paralyzed, how is this — wait." Symin shook his head, his face flushing. "No, don't tell me…?"

Maz Koshia's hands curled into fists. "I don't have to, Symin," he mourned. "You already know."

"What is he talking about?!" Link said, crowding Symin for answers. "You said no more secrets."

Symin was beginning to sweat. "We were going to tell you — " he stammered.

"Tell me what?!" Link fired back, struggling to keep his voice level.

"Link," Maz Koshia said. Link whirled his head around toward him, eyes wide. The monk's posture sagged as he leaned over the table. "I'm afraid there is no easy way to say this…"

"Say what? Please, just tell me," Link begged.

With some difficulty, Maz Koshia straightened, gripping the table and carefully turning himself around. He had reapplied his veil, masking his face. His chest heaved with his labored, scratchy breaths. Hesitating for a moment, he pushed himself off the table with a grunt and ambled towards them, coming to a stop before Link.

Link, consumed with dread, cowered in his shadow. Without a word, the monk sunk to his knees, coming eye-level with Link. He reached out and laid a hand on Link's clean, non-Malice-coated shoulder, releasing a sigh through his nose. His touch sent a zing through Link's body. Maz Koshia raised his other hand to the knot of twine securing his makeshift neck brace, his fingers shaking. Link could only stare, speechless, as Maz Koshia pulled at the knot, untying it, and dragged both his veil and the brace off, exposing his face and neck.

What Link saw gored a hole in his stomach. The monk's expression was somber, dejected, his face smothered with burns. Something dark dribbled out of his nose and mouth. Through the scraps of his ancient flesh clinging to his neck — which had been cut open and pieced together — an uncanny magenta light shone, emanating from the thick sludge smothering his naked vertebrae.

Link's world was wrenched from underneath him. Something was morbidly wrong with the monk — and he knew exactly what. His mind surged with the grisly truth; when Maz Koshia had attacked him in the Shrine… Link's Malice had fought back. And it was staring him right in the face.

Link choked, his lungs spontaneously pulverizing. "No — !" He shook his head wildly, his heart plunging into the roiling sea of panic that used to be his stomach. "No, no — th-this isn't happening! Oh my Goddess — !"

Link's hands flew to his head, his fingers burrowing into his hair. He tried to pitch back, to get away, but Maz Koshia tightened his grip on his shoulder, holding him fast.

"Link — " he tried to say, but Link fought against him, digging his heels into the floor, gasping. "Link, it's not what you — "

But Link wasn't listening. His ears filled with a high-pitched screeching as he spiraled in his horror, unable to pry his gaze from the Malice dripping out of the monk's skull. His Malice. Link's breath surged through his bared teeth, his head swimming as he wheezed out incomprehensible nonsense. He knew what was coming. Memories of his previous victim bled into his frantic thoughts. His stomach rolled, bile shooting up his throat.

As Link struggled, Maz Koshia's eyes flickered to the Malice on his arm. It glared with magenta light, pulsating violently with Link's skyrocketing heartbeat. Symin and Purah scattered at the sight of it. Link couldn't afford to have it spread any further — none of them could. Maz Koshia finally yanked Link toward him and slapped his hands against his jawline, anchoring his face forward.

"Link, look at me, look at me — I'm fine," he said firmly, shaking Link slightly to rein in his panic.

Link squirmed, his eyes widening. "N-no, you're not! I gave it to you, oh my Goddess, it's going to — !"

Maz Koshia shook his head, seemingly reading his explosive thoughts. "I promise you, I'm fine! I won't end up like that Yiga. Trust me."

Link's face contorted at the monk's words. The memory of Izer, dissolving into a puddle of Malice, scalded his brain as he stared at him. He was expecting it.

"W-what do you mean?!" Link cried. "How can you say that?!"

The monk's glowing eyes held him intently, but his pained expression betrayed his confidence. He swallowed, his hand finding his throat. "Because it has… healed me, somewhat… Sealed the damage in my neck."

Link stopped cold. He choked on his voice, gaping at the monk.

"How is that possible?!" Purah sputtered, coming around to get a better look. "Malice is…" she trailed off, glancing at the burns on the monk's face. "...destructive."

Maz Koshia's head sunk. "Believe me, I know of its power. It may have glued together my broken bones, but I can still feel it... taking its toll." He shivered, clinging to his throat, where he wretched a little. "I can feel him… slithering inside me..."

The room seemed to grow colder. Symin and Purah cringed away slightly. Link, heart shattering, lost whatever strength he had and sunk to his knees, his body shaking. Maz Koshia lowered his hands, dropping them in his lap.

Out of breath, Link doubled over, drilling his fingers into his head. Tears stung his eyes. "This is all my fault…!" he whispered.

Maz Koshia frowned. "It surged down my throat back in the Shrine," he explained, his voice gritty. "You didn't mean for it to. This was an accident, Link."

"But I did this to you!" Link fired back, his voice strained. "It came from me!"

"You're wrong," Maz Koshia urged him.

His voice had donned a sharp edge, startling Link, making his breath hitch. His head snapped up. Link found himself speechless as he knelt beneath the weary gaze of Maz Koshia.

The monk continued, cocking his head. "This came from Ganon, not you." Looking upon Link's Malice, he added, "I cannot say that I understand this… poison... perfectly, but I do know this — Malice is, for all intents and purposes, Ganon's pure, raw hatred, so concentrated it takes corporeal form. It is emotion, above all else." He then turned his gaze on Link's face. "True, you possess some of it, but it is not of you. It is merely inside you. To that end, I hypothesize that the emotions of whomever bears it might influence its properties, somewhat."

Link's Malice tingled at the monk's words. "I don't understand," he breathed, grasping it.

Maz Koshia raised his hands, explaining, "In the Shrine, when I… attacked you — you were afraid, weren't you? You didn't want to fight. You pushed me away." Link searched his face, sweat crawling down his neck. Eyes glittering with inspiration, the monk continued, "And then, when you faced that Yiga clansman — what were you feeling then?"

Link paused, his mind carrying him back to that night. His panic at the monk's news dissolved somewhat, burned away by the memory of his rage that had ignited his brutal attack on Izer. "I-I was angry," Link murmured. "He hurt Paya, terrified her, stole the Slate. I… I hated him."

Maz Koshia nodded earnestly. "And what did your Malice do to him?"

Link swallowed. "It destroyed him."

"Exactly — emotions must influence how Malice manifests in its targets. You were afraid of me, but didn't wish me dead. You were only defending yourself. That must be why I'm — " Maz Koshia cut off suddenly, doubling over to cough. Everyone jumped, rushing forward to help him, but he straightened, waving them off, gaining some control over his lungs. He wiped at his mouth, finishing, "...Why I am like this."

"That's insane…" Purah whimpered.

Symin stepped forward, his brow creased. "But Malice is still Malice — look at what it's doing to you, Maz Koshia. Why isn't it doing the same to Link?"

The monk shook his head, eying Link's third eye and bone mask. "That, I am still trying to decipher..."

"Well, maybe this might tell us something?" Purah suggested, holding up the Slate Lite. "Link's data came back."

The monk's head lifted. He perked up a bit. "Has it, now?"

Purah nodded, extending the Lite to him. "Here, have a look."

Maz Koshia took the device, running his eyes over its screen. Eyes tightening, he straightened, shakily heaving himself to his feet. He then gestured to the table. "Come, let's gather there. I… I need to take notes."

Symin and Purah dashed across the sea of papers and junk on the floor, gathering a few extra chairs and pulling them up. Maz Koshia set off at a stiff amble toward the table, dragging his feet. Link shook off his horror-induced paralysis and jumped up after noticing the monk's labored movements. Link rocketed forward, shadowing him. It appeared that, though the monk's neck had been healed slightly, the repairs were crude at best. Halfway to the table, the monk nearly toppled over, but thankfully Link was there to catch him.

"Thank you, Link," Maz Koshia murmured.

Link returned his thanks with a worried nod, helping him to a chair. Once everyone had found a seat, they all turned toward Maz Koshia as he poured over the Slate Lite in complete silence. Symin hovered a pencil over a fresh notepad; Purah leaned in eagerly, her mouth hanging open. Link, meanwhile, balled his fists on the tabletop, endeavoring to calm his churning gut.

Maz Koshia studied the Slate Lite for a while, one hand clamped over his mouth. Finally, he gave a humorless snort. "That clever beast…" he jeered, shaking his head, setting down the Slate Lite.

"W-what does it say?" Link asked, his voice weak.

Maz Koshia's gaze clouded over as he looked Link dead in the eye. "Your body breathes with Malice; not a single cell isn't saturated with it — osteocytes, muscle and organ tissue, blood cells, everything. It runs deep into your very DNA." He gestured to Link's crimson hair, to his bone mask. "That certainly explains your physiological changes..."

Link's face twitched. A thousand questions buzzed in his skull like wasps, but he couldn't find the acuity to voice anything but a hitch of his breath. Maz Koshia, cocking his head, leaned across the table, taking Link by his clean wrist and pushing his sleeve up.

"Incredibly… it's not a detriment to you at all," he marveled, turning Link's skeletal hand over. "Forgive me, Link — " the monk quickly added. Everyone jumped when Maz Koshia shot up from his chair and pinned down Link's arm, snatching up a knife hidden under a notepad. Without provocation, he dragged its blade across Link's wrist, slicing him open.

Link jolted and cried out. Black and magenta-flecked blood gushed out of his wound. It ran down his skin, staining the table. Throwing down the knife, Maz Koshia seized Link's Malice-slathered hand. In spite of the sizzling of his skin, the monk thrust Link's Malice onto his wound, holding it there. Both of their teeth gritted. After a few seconds, Maz Koshia retracted his smoking hand; thick gobs of Malice dripped from it, eating through his flesh. But everyone's gazes were fixed on Link's wrist after he pulled his Malice away — at the knife wound that suddenly didn't exist.

Link, Purah, and Symin all took their chins back, their eyes bulging. "It's gone…!" Symin gasped.

Maz Koshia agreed, his voice grim, "If anything… it's sustaining you."

Link, struggling to breathe, stared at his trembling hands, his gaze flying between his skeleton glowing through his skin and the pulsating nightmare coating his arm. "Why is this happening to me?" he murmured.

Maz Koshia went stiff. "...Because this was deliberate," he answered. He withered, his voice weak as he went on, "He wanted this to happen. The Shrine… it couldn't save you."

Link's stomach soured with dread at yet another confirmation of his demise. Hearing it come from Maz Koshia's lips somehow made it even more disturbing. Link gasped when Maz Koshia suddenly smashed a fist into the table.

"Confound it all, it couldn't save you… my life's work!" the monk hissed. He breathed heavily for a moment before his anger fizzled, a weak scowl finding his brow. "But The Beast could — he brought you back from the dead."

A ghastly silence settled upon them. Finally, Link voiced what everyone was thinking.

"Why?"

The silence lingered like smog. Link's question hung heavily in the air. Maz Koshia sank back into his chair. He shook his head, absolutely devastated by his lack of knowledge. "I have no idea," he lamented. "For the life of me, I cannot fathom his motives." Shrugging, he droned, "He succeeded — he killed you. Why bring you back to life at all? When the Princess fell — and she will fall — who would stand against him, if you were dead? His victory was absolute."

Link's blood curdled at the thought of Zelda falling before Calamity Ganon. He couldn't even imagine it. The room fell quiet again as their minds all collectively ground to scrape up some kind of answer to such a daunting question.

Eventually, Symin contemplated aloud, "Well… think about it… What does he have now that he didn't have last time?" He pointed to Link. "You."

Link's heart fluttered. Maybe it was his imagination, but the Sheikah Slate on his hip seemed to warm at Symin's words. But he never got the chance to look into it further.

Brows furrowing, Symin rambled on, "What if… what Ganon's planning something else this time?"

Link shifted in his seat. "What do you mean, something else? What else could there be?"

Symin threw up his hands, shaking his head. "I-I don't know, I just thought that, maybe, with the princess holding him back, he'd, I don't know, restrategize?"

"But to what end?" Maz Koshia asked. "Why even resurrect Link at all if he meant to kill him?" The monk's train of thought slowed, his eyes falling on Link's Malice. "How did he even get inside you in the first place?"

There was another pause as everyone considered that. It was both Link and Purah who suddenly froze, a realization consuming both of them at the same time. They locked eyes for a fleeting second before their gazes flew to Link's tunic.

"Oh my Goddess, I think I know — !" Purah murmured. "Everyone, look at this!"

She hopped onto the table and clambered over to Link. He read her mind, getting to his feet. Symin and Maz Koshia watched as Link pulled his tunic taut, Purah tracing her finger along the line of stitchwork they had discovered earlier.

Purah explained, "This, right here — this used to be a bloody hole. I saw it myself. Impa stitched it back together. What if…?"

Maz Koshia's eyes widened as Purah spoke. He got to his feet as well, reaching across the table. He tugged Link's tunic up, exposing his abdomen. There, barely visible against his semi-transparent skin, was the odd, triple-pronged scar the monk had noticed during Link's examination.

Maz Koshia drank in the scar, his mind surging. "That shape…!" he breathed.

Without warning, Maz Koshia whirled around, scanning the lab frantically. Like a man possessed, he began to tear through the piles of paper and other refuse cluttering the floor, upending a box of old machine parts, before he finally found his prize. Snatching it up, he scrambled back over to Link, tripping and bumping the table. Link went still, morbidly curious as to what the monk was doing. He finally laid eyes on what Maz Koshia had dug up and was now holding up to his skin.

It was the dislodged foot of a Guardian. Link recognized the shape and the talons. Sweat formed on his forehead at the sight of it for some reason. They all stared at the foot, their blood chilling. Peering closer, their eyes traveled to the distinct scar on Link's abdomen. Its sharp points matched the toes of the Guardian perfectly.

Everyone's jaws dropped. Their eyes slowly drifted upward until they met.

"A Guardian…?" Link gasped.

"Wait, you're saying a Guardian infected Link?" Symin asked, blinking rapidly.

"Perhaps…?" Maz Koshia pondered, slapping his hand to his forehead. "Perhaps some of Ganon's Malice leaked into you when it pierced your body…?"

A ghostly spike of pain jolted through Link's gut from out of nowhere. His breath caught as he was abruptly stolen away from the lab and thrust into the shadow of a colossal figure, veins of violent crimson burning within it. It glared upon him with a hungry, boiling, unblinking eye, growing till it towered above him. But it suddenly dropped, part of it pressing into Link. His body convulsed without his control — he was wrenched out of his own head, returning to the lab.

A sudden onset of pure, paralyzing fear stopped his heart for a few moments, terror flickering along his ribs. "That was it…" he breathed. His hand drifted to his abdomen as if covering a wound. "That was where this all started…"

"It has to be," Purah agreed. "When Robbie and I were in Kakariko, when they brought you to us… you were barely alive. You were bleeding half to death — from there." She pointed to Link's scar. "Something had hurt you — w-we just didn't know what."

"...Until now," Maz Koshia marveled.

Even in the warmth of the room, Link had somehow broken into a cold sweat. Finally, everything was coming together. It all made sense, as disquieting as that was. But as he stewed over it all, he couldn't help but think back to his fight with Izer. Back to his explosive rage, where he had impaled him as easily as if he were paper. The Malice within him had punched through the Yiga in the exact same place. Link's veins prickled at the realization. He gulped. It was as if the Malice inside him had known where to strike. It had done it before.

Link's stomach heaved. He dropped his tunic, stepping back and crumbling into his chair. He stared emptily into the table, eyes wide and unblinking.

Everyone moved toward him, their eyes filled with concern. Maz Koshia reached out, carefully, laying a hand on Link's shoulder. Link didn't so much as flinch.

"Link, are you all right? I know this is a lot to process," Maz Koshia said. When Link didn't reply, the monk cupped Link's cheek, pleading with him, "Talk to us. Please."

Link barely heard Maz Koshia. At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to get what was polluting him out.

His Malice-slicked fingers curled into a fist. He looked to Maz Koshia, asking, "If it got into me, then we can get it out. Right?"

Maz Koshia's lips pursed. He looked Link up and down, his mind already racing for a means to cure him. "There must be a way. There must be. But it won't be easy, I can guarantee you..." He scowled. "Ganon is too cruel for that." His eyes then fell on Link's Malice. "It is probably too late to ask this, but… I'm assuming relaxation didn't work?"

Link's teeth ground. "No. Nothing worked…" Symin and Purah gave dismal nods, affirming his words.

The monk straightened, grimacing. "Then perhaps our next steps are these — free the four Divine Beasts, reclaim the sacred sword, storm the castle, and, alongside the Princess, destroy and seal Calamity Ganon." Cocking his head, he gestured with his palm to Link's Malice. "Perhaps by purging the source, you can, in turn, purge it from yourself?"

Link swallowed. His brows knit together, something akin to confidence smoldering inside him. He had heard these words before, somewhere. Yes, King Rhoam had implored him with the same plan. Link thought he felt destiny calling his name.

Nodding, he stood, tightening his fists. "That will work," he stated. "That will cure me."

Maz Koshia shuddered almost invisibly. "It has to," he said.

Clearing his throat, the monk turned and directed everyone's attention to the map of Hyrule laid out on the table. Everyone gathered around.

"Now then, I suppose we ought to get to work, then?" Maz Koshia mused. He laid his hands on the map, beginning, "Though it may not be entirely original, our plan of attack is a familiar one, Link — you must gather a few necessary tools to combat calamity."

"The Divine Beasts?" Link asked.

"Precisely," Maz Koshia replied. "These Divine Beasts are colossal machines — fantastic feats of engineering that dwarf, quite literally, any modern technology. It is not a wonder why Ganon took them for himself." He continued, listing off their names, "They are Vah Ruta, Vah Rudania, Vah Medoh, and Vah Naboris. In my day, they played a vital role in subduing Calamity Ganon." He paused, sighing. "However, they suffered a similar fate to the Guardians one hundred years ago. Ganon seized control over them, turning them against the kingdom, as well as their Champions. Since the Great Calamity, they have gone offline, lying dormant somewhere throughout the land."

Link's eyes widened as he studied the map. Purah, noticing his onset of alarm, reassured him, "Don't worry, Link — we have an idea as to where they are, so don't think you have to search the entire continent over."

Part of Link was relieved at that. He was willing to take on this task — now, more than ever, after learning the truth — but found solace in not having to scour every corner of Hyrule.

"Quite so," Maz Koshia agreed with a small chuckle. "Now, the Divine Beasts are indeed an important piece of this plan, Link, and you must bring them back to under our control. But truly, chief among these tools is the legendary sword that seals the darkness — the Master Sword."

Link's body locked up as his chest bloomed with something he didn't have a name for. It was… almost intoxicating. It radiated through him from the inside out, as warm and familiar as someone calling his name. It gave him chills. His Malice even shuddered slightly, though he barely noticed it for his awe at just those few words.

"The Master Sword…?" he repeated, the words caressing his tongue with such familiarity, he couldn't help but feel that he had kept them inside him all this time.

Maz Koshia beamed at him. "It rests here, at its pedestal in the heart of the Great Hyrule Forest," he explained, placing his finger on a dense patch of trees drawn onto the map. "The sword is forever bound to the soul of the hero. It will obey none other than you — and it is the only tool with which we can pierce The Beast's hide. The Sword eagerly awaits the return of its master."

Link didn't know what to say. He had been stricken speechless.

Maz Koshia continued, "Ultimately, our plan culminates in one place: Hyrule Castle. With the Master Sword in-hand, you must march to the castle, relieve Princess Zelda of her burden. Then, with the help of the Divine Beasts, as well as her divine power, work to strike down Calamity Ganon." His smile twitched slightly as he finished, "And, if we're right, free you of this Malice — once and for all."

There was a brief pause as everyone absorbed their battle plan. Finally, Maz Koshia peered deeply into Link, asking him, "What do you think, hero?"

Link wet his lips, his mind swimming with the monk's words. "I think…" he began, his breath ballooning in his chest. "I think I can do this."

Maz Koshia, Symin, and Purah all smiled at him. Corrupted or not, he was still their knight. Their Champion. Link. Somewhere inside him, he knew that.

"We know you can do this. And we are here for you every step of the way," Maz Koshia promised. He then pressed his palms together and bowed to Link. Symin and Purah followed.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Link looked to the future with courage.

They spent the majority of the day, and well into the night, planning. They outlined ideal travel routes, points of interest in the wild — the Akkala Citadel, a Colosseum, the springs of Wisdom, Courage, and Power — and places Link ought to avoid, like the ruins of Castle Town, a bottomless swamp, and a few others. They also pinpointed approximate locations of the Divine Beasts — Vah Ruta, in Zora's Domain; Vah Rudania, near Death Mountain; Vah Medoh, in Hebra; and Vah Naboris, in the Gerudo Desert. If the Divine Beasts were as enormous as Purah and Maz Koshia said they were, then Link believed he would have no problem finding them.

Having a plan of attack helped calm Link's fear of the unknown. As he looked upon the map of Hyrule, he slowly came to the realization that he had a lot of ground to cover if he was to accomplish this task. Hyrule stretched farther than his mind could conceive. It was almost intimidating. But he had already come so far in a short amount of time since he rose from his tomb. This would be no easy feat, but with Purah, Symin, and Maz Koshia — and Princess Zelda, especially — on his side, he felt ready to tackle it. More ready than he had felt all day.

Eventually, well after midnight, everyone's minds had finally been run ragged. Their eyes drooped, their brainstorming growing sluggish. Over a few yawns, Maz Koshia suggested they all retire for the night. They had much to do come the following morning. As they all shuffled off to bed, they didn't bother cleaning up the table, leaving a veritable hurricane strewn all over the lab.

In spite of the mess, Symin found some room for them to sleep. There weren't any extra bedrooms upstairs, so they made due with a relatively-clean corner of the lab and some extra futons. Maz Koshia was much too tall to fit under his futon, but he was nevertheless grateful. Symin and Purah, upon saying their goodnights, made their way up to their rooms, leaving Link and Maz Koshia downstairs.

The monk insisted that Link get some rest. It didn't take long for Link to drift off. He was utterly exhausted from the day's events. As he slept, Maz Koshia sat on his own futon beside him, his thoughts glinting with hope as he listened to Link's deep, drawing breaths.

And yet… a maelstrom of doubt and unease still plagued the monk. He thought in circles about everything that had happened that day. Indeed, so much had happened that it filled his skull to spilling. He found himself subconsciously rubbing his neck, trying to ignore the subtle glowing of his vertebrae. Hopeful as he was in the wake of his conversation with Link, Symin, and Purah, he still found himself squirming against the subtle stirring of the Malice inside him.

Throughout it all, all he could think to himself was this — Was there more to be done? Was the plan they had put together enough?

Hours later, in the inky throes of morning, Link began to stir. He grunted, his face twisting. Maz Koshia, by then half-asleep, was roused by Link's movement. Blinking away his exhaustion, he turned his head, growing worried for a moment as the Malice coating Link's arm glowed brighter than it had before. He was about to reach out to Link to wake him but found himself cringing back instead. Before his eyes, the Malice coating Link's arm began to seep into his skin, retreating inside him. In a matter of seconds, Link's arm had returned to normal, as if his Malice had never spawned. Link, still fast asleep, exhaled deeply, turning over.

Maz Koshia slumped back into the wall, astonished, whereupon he breathed a sigh of relief. He had begun to fear that Link's exposed Malice might become permanent. All the same, dread sullied the monk's relief. Knowing that Link's Malice had receded — that it could recede, even — was a boon. But even so, the monk fully recognized that it still lurked inside Link. At any moment, it could rear itself again.

Maz Koshia cupped his hands over his face, his mind roaring with questions and speculation. Without provocation, he broke into a brief fit of coughing, though he endeavored to stifle it so as not to wake Link. When it had passed, his throat burned. He noticed with a pang of fear a few glowing droplets spattered against his pants. His breath and spine rattled as he turned to check on Link.

Still asleep. For now.

Maz Koshia swallowed a bitter lump in his throat. As he gazed upon Link, it came back to him — an idea that he had been agonizing over for several hours. An idea that he believed might turn the tide in this new war of attrition that Calamity Ganon had waged… if he was only brave enough to execute it.

He knew he had to do something. Something more.

Ensuring Link was asleep, Maz Koshia got to his feet, silent as a breeze. Stepping over Link, he crept to the front door and eased it open, slipping out. He closed the door behind him, making for the stairs. He had to wake Symin and Purah.

They needed to talk.


...The plot thickens!

Gosh, I had such a great time with this chapter! I thoroughly enjoyed exploring just how mentally-damaging living through the Great Calamity would have been. My heart really bled for Purah in this one. :( And I'm growing to love Symin so freaking much. He's a great guy. And Maz Koshia... I won't even get started on him. He's rapidly becoming one of my favorite characters in this thing. And then there's Link. I feel so bad for him. Sometimes it pains me to do these things to him. He isn't anywhere close to the end of his journey, and he's already been through way too much. Poor thing! But that's what makes him strong. I hope his struggles are interesting and realistic - I strive for that!

Anyway, I'd love to hear your thoughts! Any questions? Predictions? Conclusions of your own? Would you like me to shorten future chapters? This one was longer than I anticipated, but I just had to fit these scenes into one chapter. They were so cohesive it only made sense.

Finally, some answers for our corrupted hero (and for you as well)! But what does it all mean? What else do they still not know?! Does Ganon have anything else up his sleeve? Stay tuned and find out!

Until next time, friends - stay strong, stay healthy, stay happy!