Together, they step through the broken arch and take cautious steps toward the remains of the inn. It had been a two story building, and the gables that held the roof up were splintered and shattered, crushing the lower floor. The heavy double doors that served as the entrance were laying in the middle of the rough road that ran through the center of the village, the door frame itself was the same buckling outward. Link caught an undercurrent of that same heavy, foul smell he encountered in Eppon; it was as though the air itself had curdled.

"What can do something like that?" Whispers Impa. "How much power do you need to break things like that?"

He just shakes his head.

They stop at the ruined doorway. The upper floor has come down at an angle, sloping back to front, leaving just a crawl space where the entrance had been. Link squats to peer into the depths, ignoring quick complaints from his hips.

Did something lurch in the darkness?

He gets back to his feet a moment later. "Let's look around the back and see if it's more open to explore. I don't want to crawl in there."

"Agreed."

The inn was free standing on one side, where the hitching post still miraculously stood unharmed, and Link opts to head there. Most of the outer wall still stands and seems straight. The back is a different story. A single central beam seems to be the resting point for the second floor, and half of the back wall appears to have been exploded outward. There's still a chandelier hanging that he can see, and destroyed furnishings of the huge common area. Mercifully, he does not see any bodies.

Impa seems to be thinking the same. "What do you think happened to the people?"

"I don't know. Felmi said there was screaming, but I don't see any- uh.. dead." He takes a step closer. "Maybe they come out at night."

"You believe in stalfos?"

"I do these days. Stalfos and much worse."

"I'm sorry, I forgot about the desert."

They stare into the back of the inn for another minute before she asks, in a low voice, "Are we going in?"

He glances at that beam. It seems stable and quiet. "Yes. Weapons out. No more than a pace apart. We do not turn our backs to each other." Keeping an eye on the interior, he reaches his right hand over his shoulder and takes the hilt of the Master Sword; feeling a familiar prickle through his arm and a faint hum in the back of his head. Impa follows suit and draws her sword as well. They make silent eye contact before moving into the inn's common room.

As they step over the broken wall, the Master Sword lights up, and even Impa hears the sound it makes as it does. They both stop.

"It must always do that, right?"

"It did this after I got killed in the river lands. And in the Gerudo desert. Stay alert. Stay close."

Mid afternoon sun filters in through the broken back wall, revealing the remains of the kitchen and common area. There's a large hearth on the far side of the room that remains intact. A pair of long dining tables lay in pieces, their benches in splinters. The smell is overwhelming, but he can't see what must be decomposing in here. Maybe it's somewhere else in the village. He keeps seeing motion on the edges, in dark corners, but there's nothing when turns to look. Rats, or mice, probably. Little shy creatures.

He keeps Impa in his peripheral vision. She is silent when she moves, and he does not want to risk losing track of her, even in this relatively small space. They advance; slowly, carefully, one cautious step at a time into the common room. Mindful of how many times spiders had fallen from above him in Faron, Link scans the walls and the partially collapsed ceiling, but they seem quiet. Impa draws herself up short as they get to where the ceiling angle no longer allows them to stand.

"Link," he has to strain to hear her, even though it's silent and she is next to him. "There is something in here." Her left hand reaches out and lightly brushed his right forearm. He turns his head slightly, to keep her in view while looking where she gestures with her sword hand.

It's darkest where the ceiling nearly meets the floor at the front of the common room. It seems darker than it should be, thinks Link, given that the back of the building is open and it's daylight. He leans forward, oh so slightly, trying to focus on what might be hiding in front of them.

They hear the sound of leather being dragged over stone. The air takes on that same sharp, sweet scent it had when Zelda called her bow, but the sweetness is cloying instead of pleasant. He steps closer to Impa and draws a breath. She sinks slightly, softening the angle in her hips and knees, raising her weapon as they share a quick glance. Without breaking his gaze from the darkness, he takes his left hand and swings the royal blue shield with the crimson loftwing off his back; ready to defend them both.

He raises the shield just as something explodes from under the collapsed ceiling and strikes it with enough force that he grunts and takes a step back. They are both suddenly surrounded by darkness. Impa takes a step back as well, and then she presses her back against his.

"We are not getting split up," she snarls in his ear.

Link has never formally been in battle with others, except to scatter monsters, but he is glad to have her at his back. The air seems to thicken around them, and the temperature drops, enough that he can see his breath.

"This is not the dance partner you were supposed to bring, old man." That smoky voice is at his left ear. He pushes his left shoulder back, both to raise the shield and to get Impa to shift with him, and turns to face the speaker. The darkness shifts and swirls, with shapes he can't quite see. Impa turns her head as well, raises her blade and holds her position. It does not seem like she heard the voice.

And then she sharply jerks her head to her left and hisses "Who are you?"

"Impa, whatever you are hearing, ignore it. It is trying to rattle you. Stay with me." He raises his voice, addressing whatever presence lurks in the darkness. "Your business is with me."

"And yet you brought her with you." This time he thinks he can feel breath at his ear. "You chose to put her in danger." He hears her draw a sharp breath and she pushes back into him. Is she hearing what he does, or is it different for her?

"Show yourself, and we can decide who is in danger. You seem to talk a lot." Adrenaline courses through him. He can feel his heart beat, and is aware of every small detail he can soak in–the visible puff of air when he speaks, the scent of magic that has been twisted somehow, the feel of Impa at his back and the soft sound of her breathing. There is anticipation in the back of his mind, and it feels as though the moment stretches, time slowing.

If now is the time, he is ready to go. He resists an urge to flip the glowing blade.

Something hits the shield hard. Hard enough to jolt his arm to the shoulder and push him backwards into Impa. He is off balance but takes a swing anyway, not sure what he might be trying to connect with. The sword hums through empty air. He feels Impa move and hears her grunt. She must have connected. He turns to take another strike and this time he hits.

He had marveled at how the sacred sword felt, the first time he went after a moblin with it. This is different. This is the task it was forged for, and it knows.

As the blade bites into flesh, his vision is filled with golden light, like the day he drew it from its pedestal. He has done this before. Hasn't he? Another lifetime, too young to know the world, old enough to think he did. How many times has he taken this particular swing and had this moment to touch on his pasts?

He finishes his follow through and he is back in the dark. The shapes have coalesced into a figure towering over him, here and not here. Incorporeal and still wounded by the Blade of Evil's Bane.

"Seems you haven't learned all the tricks you should know by now, old man."

Link is not quite panting. There is blood on the blade, but the wound doesn't look like a fatal one to him. The figure before him hardly seems to notice. He is young, thinks Link. Maybe twenty-five. Maybe. Tall, physically imposing. He has red hair and dark eyes that are fire and steel. The armor is ornate, but functional and probably the only reason the Master Sword has not eviscerated him. Anger begins to simmer within him and he raises the bloodied blade.

"Seems I know enough," his voice is husky and dangerous.

"Consider this just a sample, old man. You will wear and break before me."

Link bares his teeth and keeps his eyes locked. "Why wait?"

"Bring your proper dance partner next time." Everything plunges into darkness. The spoiled sweetness is gone from the air, as suddenly as it had come, and the room warms, just a little.

And then it's daylight again, but the afternoon has moved on, the sun on its downward arc. "Impa, we should go back…"

Wait. He doesn't know when he stopped feeling her at his back. She is just gone.

"Impa?"

He swivels his head, confirming he is alone in the center of the common room. Panic wants to bubble and rise, but he pushes it down, willing himself to focus. He is not leaving without her.

"IMPA!"

And then he spots her, back where the kitchen had been. She has managed to get herself half way up, and is holding her head in her hands. He bolts across the floor, sword and shield still in hand.

"Impa! Are you ok, please be ok, goddesses, please be ok." The shield and sword clatter to the floor as he drops next to her. He reaches for her shoulder and she startles hard, gasping and turning to him. She is wild eyed and bleeding from a cut on her forehead.

"It's just me, it's Link. Can you get up? I think we need to get out of here, now."

She huffs a sigh of relief and nods. "Give me a minute, I hit my head."

He nods back and gets to his feet, putting away blade and shield. He finds her sword a short distance away and retrieves it before returning to her side and offering a hand to help her up. She gets up, but seems unsteady. He swings his left arm around her waist. "Put your arm across my shoulder. I'll get you out of here." She nods and complies. "Just lean in when you need to."

He checks the sky. Twilight is just beginning to creep. They are going to miss his deadline. With a grunt, they cross the floor, Impa's blade in his right hand. They manage to limp out of the inn and back under the broken arch as the sky starts to darken. They will just have to go as far as they can alone on foot.

Thirty minutes later, he hears hoof beats coming toward them. Impa has been quiet, but she lifts her head at the sound as well. He stops and tightens his grip on Impa's sword.

The red brown horse is riderless and wears a double bridle, reins trailing. She slides to a stop in front of him, shaking out her cream colored mane and snorting once.

"...Epona?"

The mare stretches her head out to him, blowing into his face. He returns the greeting.

"Impa, do you think you can ride?"