Chapter 29
Ship of Theseus
Midna, Link gulped audibly, no wonder, the humming was familiar, it was her irritating leitmotif.
Raising his palms in defeat, he asked, "Are you going to kill me now?" Spending an eternity in the afterlife with Zant did not appeal to Link; he'd rather drown fifty times over.
"Of course not," the imp giggled, "your death would be counterproductive to my goals."
Letting his arms drop, Link sunk to the spongy ground, Midna's presence made him feel vastly inferior. Whatever he did, even if he stopped the moon from falling, will pale in comparison to her standing around and doing nothing. "Can I hug you?" the words spilled unwanted from his lips and he clapped a hand to his mouth. "Uh...no I mean...it's good to see you again."
Midna smiled viciously at her bumbling human and the rosy blush on his cheeks. "Hmm? Did you say anything?" she cocked her ear exaggeratedly, "speak up." He sputtered a few inconsequential gurgles and flopped face forward on in the mud. "Well..." the smile stretched wider, "you have to be a prince before you lay your hands on me."
"I'm sorry," Link said, thankful for the cool, wet ground. "I wasn't running away," he raised his grit streaked face, "I was searching for a way back home."
The Twilight Princess floated to his level and stuck her cold, clammy hand under his chin. Shuddering at the contact, Link waited for her to smack him, or at least twist his ear for incompetence, he prayed she leave the earring alone, tugging it hurt worse than getting cut by spears. Instead, she gripped his chin, pointy fingers digging into his skin, no wrath flared in her saffron eye and she appeared genuinely confused and exasperated.
"Do you remember the story I told you about the damaged parts of a broken boat?" Link asked, he sat on a broken stone column, the sun melted the mist and dew sparkled like diamonds on thick blades of grass. Midna perched on his shoulder and nodded slowly. "Grandma actually told me the story first but Sturgeon was the one who explained its name and theory. It's called the Ship of Theseus." He waited for a question, but none came. "Theseus was a hero who had a big wooden ship and due to the constant journeys across the Great Sea for one errand or the other, the ship sustained damage and parts of it had to be repaired." Plucking a twig off the ground, Link absentmindedly broke it in his hands. "Now, bit by bit, the planks making the deck of the ship are replaced, the sail cloths...you know, when the wind hits the sail cloth from behind, it looks like a puffy white cloud you can lay on."
Smiling, Midna urged him to continue, once he finished prattling, she would gently remind him of the greater task at hand; namely, rescuing Princess Zelda. Gritting her teeth at the mistreatment Ganondorf might do to the princess, Midna closed her eye and tried to focus on Link's words.
He told her something important, the tremor in his voice swelled urgently.
"When the ship is completely repaired," sprinkling the broken bits of twig over his boots, Link groped for another object to fiddle with, "is it still okay for it to be called Theseus' Ship?"
Sighing, the imp ran her fingers through Link's messy hair. "You've told me this before and I still don't understand the tale nor do I have an answer for it." Impatience injected her words. "You don't understand it yourself so why bother with philosophical conundrums? Leave those for Zelda, she has the brains," Midna snickered, "unlike you."
Rising from the jagged seat and rubbing his bottom, the hero glanced at the sky. Iron grey clouds blew from the east, a storm lingered in the air. "I understand now," he said so softly it sounded like a whisper of wind. "It basically means we...the Links and Zeldas and Ganondorfs, don't really have an identity of our own." Midna launched off his shoulder, Link spoke but his ice blue eyes solidified with a sage-like knowledge which frightened her. "The Triforce bearers are forced to carry the same piece over and over again," the Twilli hovered in front of his face, "and I always wondered, why couldn't I have power, or Ganondorf wisdom or…or Zelda courage?
"Because we are nothing more than a concept for the Goddesses. Like Theseus' ship which gets replaced and eventually loses its originality, I am the same. There was a first Link, Sturgeon told me, I never paid attention, his fish patties were more important..." At this Link giggled slightly. "So anyway, a first Link, the first Ship, from there the others came, we are the replaced parts. We are one and the same as the first Link." A breeze blew frigid winds through the fragrant pines of the sacred grove. "It took me a long time to come to terms with it...I was born, specifically to subdue Ganondorf...I don't exist."
Tears welled in his eyes and slid across his cheeks. "Grandma and Aryll-" he hiccupped "-are real and whole, they have their own identities. They are they," he scratched shapes in the dirt with a fingernail, "I'm...I'm-"
"Grandma's spoilt brat," Midna cut in and wiped the tears coursing like a river down his face. "So what if you are a concept? Be proud of it," she snapped. "Do you see the other Link sniveling on the ground like you?" He ignored her. "Maybe they didn't come to the same conclusion, but don't you think your Grandma would be proud to see you are doing all you can to stop the manifestation of power ruling over everything else?"
"Huh?" Link sniffed and rubbed his runny nose on a sleeve. "I'm not crying because I don't have an identity," his forehead became a mess of lines, "I'm crying because" he wailed, "I don't have a way back home!"
Tapping into the wells of patience she specifically kept for these instances, Midna took his hands in hers. "How did you come to such a conclusion?" she demanded. "And once I get my full power, I promise to take you home."
Link stared at the small, ebony hands nestled in his own. "You can't. I searched for a way back home and there is only one." Midna nodded for him to continue. "The other Link and I should be in the Temple of Time and Tower of Gods respectively, either him or I must be dying...I don't think he makes such mistakes, and he killed all the monsters in there," he jerked his chin to the area where the temple materialized, "its quieter than a grave. He sealed my way back home," Link hissed.
"And it never occurred to you the Goddesses will shove you back once you finish vanquishing Ganondorf?" Midna floated away, all this thinking hurt her head and her ribcage surged with a bruised pain. Zelda's influence weakened day by day, at this rate, the princess of Hyrule will vanish into nothing.
Missing the sudden warmth, Link clenched and unclenched his hands. For a princess of the infamous Twilli nation, Midna was quite dumb. He wondered of the consequences should he dare say as such to her face.
"Why would they take me back?"
"Why shouldn't they?" the Twilli snapped. "You did their bidding, you finished your quest."
Exhaling, Link whistled for Epona, to think Midna frightened the wits out of him once upon a time. "I just told you," he articulated slowly; "we don't have identities. The Link of Hyrule and the Great Seas are the same." A beat of silence passed. "The only reason I'm here, is because I'm somehow more suited to defeat Ganondorf in this realm, although, if I die and the Triforce decides not to bring me back, he'll take over. It's simple." He traced the golden triangles at the back of his left hand. "But, I'm not going to stop praying." Narrowing his eyes at the burning sun, Link glared at it, "I'm going to pray and hope and give offerings to the Goddesses so they will take me back. They won't have another choice."
The sun seared his retinas and rubbing the phosphenes dancing in his eyes; Link marched out of the sacred grove and tripped over a tree root, smashing his head against the trunk. He yowled and whimpered for his Grandmother to kiss the pain away. Dropping a fresh bottle of milk in his hands, Midna rubbed the bruise flowering on his forehead and smiled at him.
"It's good to have you back."
The resistance members gathered before the pyramid of Twilight sealing Hyrule Castle. Flinching at the imp seething inside his head, Link concentrated at the plans drawn on brown parchment. Rusl pointed a finger through an old corridor stretching from the tavern and the old man, Auru shook his head, citing his old bones were not suitable for crawling through ducts. Link rubbed his aching knees, after going through Snowpeak province, his joints hurt when he ran too much, was he growing old at this age?
Ashei landed a slender finger on the opposite side of the map and the hero mentally pictured her words. She wanted to burrow from the outskirts of the Castle, digging through bedrock...whatever that meant. Rusl and Shad shook their heads, too labor intensive, they said and brooded, brows drawn.
"We will continue searching for a way inside," Shad rolled the map and placed it carefully in his satchel. "Old boy, you have to get to the Mirror Chamber in Arbiter's grounds, with the last shard of the Twilight Mirror; you will be able to access the Twilight Realm."
Link's stomach knotted, he did not want to go to the Twilight Realm, Midna was with him so he did not mind, although, he still panicked.
"Twilight is not so bad," Shad soothed and ran a hand through his shock of caramel hair, he knelt on the stone floor, they all did and piece of gravel dug in Link's skin. "It's a realm of magic." His denim blue eyes shone expectantly. "They are different to us humans, think of the progression of technology Hyrule would go through once we re-establish contact with both the Twilli and the Ooccoo; we will have a golden age-"
Rusl stood. "Enough Shad, you are overwhelming us." Ashei rolled her eyes expressively and the dark circles seemed to cave her cheeks in. "Like he mentioned, you need to go to the Mirror chamber," Rusl addressed Link, a sympathetic twinkle in his irises, "I know you can do it."
Sand gusted across the Gerudo Mesa, the moon hung low, accusing and full. The Twilight Mirror stood on its frame of silver, on a raised podium and climbing the small steps, Link delicately reached into his bag for the quicksilver mirror shards and pieced them together. The last shard, edges jagged into cruel lines, he handed to Midna, she regarded her broken reflection solemnly in the mirror and a stray moonbeam, filtering through the clouds choking the sky, fell on the monolith of slate suspended in platinum chains.
Tracing the geometric lines etched across the mirror shard, Midna placed it on the mirror, making it whole. The fused shadows in her body stirred, her headpiece glowed with eerie Twilight magic, resonating with the mirror and the hairline cracks crisscrossing the looking glass smoothed into a perfect circle of silver. She touched the beautiful mirror and besides her, Link leapt backwards when the mirror swung to face the rock and the chains snapped.
The boulder fell, stirring the sand carpeting the mirror chamber.
Light bloomed from the mirror along with a series of magic circles, orphic runes and a triangle depicting the holy power of the Triforce. Weird beings of light shimmered into view and Link drew closer to Midna, his bowstring taut and attention darting from one sage to the other. The sages bowed to the Twilight Princess floating in the middle, their ivory robes fluttering. Swords glinted at their sides and their lips moved in apology.
"We apologize for our transgression, for exiling Ganondorf into your realm and thus leading to this."
Their voices rubbed Link the wrong way and their faces were detached from their...Link blinked at the space between the front of their head and the mask-esque face, which floated several centimeters apart. It confused him, how did they eat? The sages of light wrung their billowing sleeves together, hands hidden by the robe's tassels.
"We wish to atone, but our power wanes." The sages raised their heads, only to meet Midna's smoldering gaze and bowed again. "Please accept our apology."
The Twilli exposed a fang. "You will apologize to Princess Zelda as well," the sages shuffled but no dust rose from beneath their feet. Raising her chin arrogantly, Midna added, "You will apologize to her, for creating the interlopers, for creating Twilight." Her voice snaked its way around the sages. "You will apologize for what you have done to Hyrule and I'll be there to watch you beg forgiveness and laugh when you retreat to the sacred realm, ashamed for groveling in front of a mortal." Wind whistled through the mirror chamber. "Begone! The previous sages must be mortified for your greed and treachery."
One by one, the sages winked away from view, their heads still bowed. Crowing triumphantly, Midna turned to the Twilight mirror, the victorious smirk on her face melting. The stone played images and transfixed, Link watched.
It showed the Palace of Twilight.
A corridor of smooth stone railed by a screen of turquoise lattice. Black squares hung in the air, the horizon bled orange gold. A willowy figure stood at the railing, wearing a cloak and another individual joined the first at the banister. Link's gut twisted, he recognized Zant's silhouette so the person next to him is Midna. Tall, he mused. The Twilight Princess in the memory turned, her face shadowed by a hood, she raised an arm, fingers brushing against Zant's face and Link inhaled sharply and squeezed his eyes shut. He did not want to see. When he reluctantly opened them again, Midna bowed low on the floor, her hood slipped back, revealing a shock of marigold hair and Zant forcibly extracted the power from her, cackling and throwing his head back. His limbs jerked erratically, the squares in the air stirred, drawn and repulsed to him. Midna shrunk, drowning in her robes and when every drop of her power emptied to Zant, he crouched low, tried to reach for the gasping princess and received a scratch for his efforts.
"I am going to kill you," the powerless princess rasped, her words sawing through Link, "and I will smile when your blood pools at my feet."
Zant's helmet flitted upwards. "There is a new ruler in Twilight, to defy him means to defy God." On the floor, Midna rose on her elbows. "You understand nothing, he will deliver us from the oppression of Light, you are too weak to oppose the denizens of light, you have no pride but fear not," his tone dipped, silky soft, "I still love you."
The memory ended and rubbing the back of his neck, where the fine hairs stood on end, Link observed Midna. Her saffron eyes lingered on the rock, to the image frozen in stone.
"Like the prophecies of Hyrule, Twilight has one of its own," she twirled around the Mirror of Twilight, "in the sacred vault, magic inks our destiny, it is a room with writing all over the walls and Twilli sages are tasked to unravel it. One of the prophecies depicted a sacred wolf delivering us from the clutches of the Usurper King. When Zelda first told me about you, I was jealous, her realm already had a hero and mine..." Breaking off, she skimmed her fingers across Link's cheek, the coldness tingled his skin. "When you turned into a sacred wolf," she grinned, "I knew I had to take advantage of you."
"You make it sound like I'm not the Hero of Twilight. I am the sacred wolf," Link turned to the staircase of light leading to Midna's home, "don't worry; I'll make your realm safe again." He gingerly climbed the stairs, gaze forward. "You will be back home before you know it."
Softening at his determination, Midna sat on his shoulder. She did not mind her skin burning when it came in contact with his light, she stopped minding such nuisances ages ago, when she teased Zelda and the young princess invited her to read together in the gardens behind Hyrule Castle. During the evening, when the sun set, Midna told Zelda about Twilight, how darkness perpetually bathed it. The Princess of Hyrule hung on her every word, blue irises gleaming in wanderlust.
And Midna wondered if she could grant the one wish of Zelda's.
"We...I want to see Twilight, I care not if I morph into a spirit."
Link's astonished exhale pulled her from bittersweet memories and she recoiled at the Twilight Palace leaping up to her. Banners once fluttered on the charcoal walls, emblazoned with turquoise Twilight emblems. Now the walls hung bare, Zant's evil inscriptions scrawled on them. A few of the Twilli shuffled past Link and he inwardly quivered at their lumpy forms. They wore no clothes, threadbare limbs hung awkwardly from their bodies and a mask, similar to the fused shadow Midna wore, covered their face from view.
Thank the Deku Tree, Link prayed, he didn't want to know what grotesque faces the Twilli race hid under their masks.
"Your people are ugly," Link graciously informed Midna who longingly looked at her surroundings. "Your home is weird." He rotated when she floated in front of a zombie Twilli and attempted to pull of its mask. The thing raised its thin, thin arms sluggishly and Link tensed when it lazily swatted Midna. "Don't touch them," he cautioned, "they might bite and pass their zombie-disease on you."
The Twilight princess stopped struggling with the mask dampening her people's will and scowled at the human. Did he spout crude jokes? Worry flitted across his face and she clicked her tongue in ire. "They were once all beautiful, with tall forms," she recalled, "Zant was handsome." A sly smile curled across her lip when Link irritably swung his head away. "But after Ganondorf came in and I lost my power, it turned into this." She indicated the shadows clinging to the Palace like second skin. No squares of concentrated, wholesome Twilight magic danced in the air. An onyx cloud seeped from the horizon, a miasma weathering her beloved realm.
"It's ugly," Link petulantly repeated, "I don't know how you can stand all this darkness."
"It's my home," she wistfully stated. "No matter how ugly it may appear to you, this is where I come from; this is what is beautiful to me." More sluggish Twilli poured into the square, the walls of the Palace courtyard pulsed angrily with scarlet lines. "You will find it wonderful too, once this realm is cleansed. I promise you, Twilight is a gorgeous realm. You will want to come back here."
The hero shrugged disbelievingly and sprang back reflexively when he tried to climb the stairs and a Twilli barred him. Shoving past the thing did not work; it simply stood there, like a brain dead pillar of meat. Frowning, Link searched the courtyard for other exits and moved to the western corridor with a mooning Midna trailing after him. A twilit deku baba exploded from underfoot, sinking its saliva dripping jaws into his arm and shrieking, Link pulled the alien plant off the crumbly ground and smacked it against a bubbling fountain. The imp stirred the water with her small fingers and scowled at the inky blood diffusing in it. A flock of keese screeched high pitched murder and at their descent, Midna dove into Link's shadow and he whipped the Master Sword out, kissing its cold metal before swinging it through the fluttering monsters. The blade sheared through skin and bone, the dead creatures wisped into smoke.
A door opened into a stone grey room. Seam lines and cyan veins pulsed on the walls and Link peeked into the room before entering. The eerie silence of outside multiplied in the room, his breath gusted in his chest like bellows. Rotating for enemies, the hero petrified at a sound scraping on the floor.
A large fish-mask rose off the etched ground. Holding his sword higher, Link wrinkled his nose in disgust. Finally he could crush that abomination of a helmet, who apart from Zant even wore those?
XXXXX
Making history
A patch of sand. A struggling sapling. Makar stared angrily in front of him, wind whined deep in the temple, veins of ancient magic radiated through the structure.
Fireflies danced in the cave behind the waterfall, baubles of light shadowed the human's face. When Makar decided he did not want to visit the Wind Temple because of personal reasons, Link left. The Korok heaved a relieved sigh despite guilt prickling his leaf face. He apologized to no one in particular and sat with his notes when the Deku Tree's noble voice boomed softly through all of Forest Haven.
Gathering his violin, Makar flew to the central pool and standing proudly on the giant lily pad, lips tilted into a smug smirk, Link eyed him vindictively. Brushing the human aside and knots forming in his chest, Makar bowed low to the Forest deity and waited for the Tree to speak.
"You shall go with Link," the Deku Tree garbled in tongues of old, "the Wind Temple needs a new sage, you Makar, will fill this role, praying till the Hero regains the Triforce of Courage and the Master Sword sparkles with full power." In a softer tone, the tree added, "I do not understand why you do not wish to go."
Makar remembered a time when a young boy ran out of the very same clearing; a pool of water did not form in front of the Deku Tree then, only a windswept glade with knee high grass. When the old Deku Tree died, the Kokkiri children looked after the new sapling. Now the very same sapling issued orders.
He bowed low, taming wayward thoughts. This is why races as old as him are not supposed to cling to old memories.
"Do you mind?" the Korok hissed and squirmed in Link's hold. "Let me down, you are insulting me." The boy reluctantly relinquished his grasp and hovered protectively over Makar who waddled to the sapling, he touched his green thumbs to the water starved plant and it bulked up, shooting grains of sand in their faces. "I can fly short distances with the rotor on my head, you need to climb your way up," Makar said. Two leaves unfolded neatly from the top of his pointy head and whirred, bearing him aloft.
Twirling the grappling hook, Link kept an eye on Makar, steady flying upwards, he landed on a ledge and waited, gaze fixed to the sandstone bricks forming the temple. Gusts of wind eroded the sides into a smooth slab of patchwork stone, golden in one place, bronze in the other. Moss spilled through cracks, glowing fireflies, as big as his pudgy fist, sailed in the temple confines. Grappling the tree, Link hiked upwards, heart leaping into his throat at the disappearance of Makar. He checked wildly, two cyclones ripped near him, wind snatching the tail ends of his cap.
A little stripped sack toddled to a raised switch on the upper platform and the cyclones stopped tearing through Link. Shivering at the biting draft, the hero stalked through the southern doorway and critically inspected a rusted spring switch sticking half a meter off the ground.
He wore his iron books, secured a dour Makar in his arms and stepped on the switch. It depressed beneath his weight and did absolutely nothing. Glaring at it, Link hefted Makar. "Put your arms around my neck," he said, "I need to take off my boots, it'll spring us up to the unreachable platform over there." A scent of overripe apricots wafted from Makar and Link sneezed when the Korok complied with his request, beady eyes shining like drops of wet ink on a leaf. Balancing precariously, the hero pulled the boots off and tucked his legs in when they speared through the air.
Landing with a forceful thud, Link flailed to regain balance and toppled forward, he landed on his chest, cushioned by Makar.
"Are you okay?" Worry seeped into his voice and the checked the child for any injuries. "Do you bleed?" he asked.
"Yes," Makar answered with long suffering patience, hold old was the hero, five? "Don't you?"
A sardonic smile wound on the hero's face. "Hardly. Hylian blood is crimson in color, yours?"
Growing tired of the constant questions posed by his seemingly tight lipped companion, Makar sighed, the groan lost in the howling gust. "I don't know, I haven't bled for centuries nor am I going to cut myself open-what are you doing?" Makar shrieked when Link bent to lick him, "please keep your distance, this is an invasion of privacy!" he squeaked.
"I wondered if you taste like apricots since you smell of them all the time."
"How does Daphnes deal with you?" Makar exasperatedly threw his stubby arms into the air. "It is common knowledge he sought of the Hero of Winds for generations...but you? You look like a child, act like a...a demon and question as if to confirm your suspicions."
Grinning at the normally composed Makar ranting his little head off, Link strung an arrow and fired when an Armos statue thunked onto the platform. The Korok became quiet. Lunging with his blade, the hero cut the stone monster into pieces. Another dragged over grass and met the same fate. Twirling the blade expertly and burying it in the leather sheath, Link surveyed the platforms stitched on the side of the temple. He leaned over the ledge and calculated the drop below. The height will reduce his bones to dust. A handful of brightly glowing fireflies skimmed past his head and he noted the placements of rooms and chambers in a spiral around the central hollow column. Frowning and pacing, he rifled through his backpack, fingers closing over the telescope.
The spyglass gleamed in the late afternoon sunlight slanting through the temple from above. He cleaned it from bloody handprints and put it to his eye. Little sand pits sharpened through the magnified glass, all the platforms contained them. Securing the telescope into his belt, Link turned to Makar, brooding before a block of wild, coarse grass pushing through a broken floor tile.
Touching the telescope and berating himself for not visiting home before he left, Link crouched to the Korok. "I've said this before, but I will remind you again," the hero stated, "I'm going to play the Command Melody and take over your body." Makar lifted his chin, expression unreadable, "I can't really shout instructions all the way over, so I will do the work myself." The Korok nodded his assent. "Also, I'm not what I seem."
"Aren't we all?" Makar drawled in reply.
Not what I seem should be an understatement, the Korok child thought.
The human should come with a warning label plastered on his forehead reading: Danger, keep away to maintain sanity. Time battered the Korok into vegetative state, they only came alive to fulfill their duties during the Ceremony and spread greenery across the Great Sea. The mutualistic relationship benefited both. Makar plopped to the floor, body wobbling. A searing bolt of lightning pain danced across his body. He gasped at the adolescent in his vision; he looked exactly like the Hero of Time.
If the Hero of Time masked his emotions like a smiling puppet.
The Wind Temple sharpened into hues of pine and sand. Plants and earth. Through Makar's tinted vision, the ground suddenly appeared a lot more lifelike, fireflies wove hypnotizing threads of color into the air and Link felt tiny earthworm vibrations playing like music through his volatile oil coated skin. The gale inside the temple cut him severely, he wiggled and sap roiled like ocean waves into his belly. Smiling teeth, he launched to the air, waving stubby legs over the ground far below and waddled to a pit of sand.
Plunging a seed into the sand and feeling its glass grains slide across his hands, Link worked magic into the plant and it roared to the ceiling, split through the stone and continued to the upper floors. Exhilarated, he pulled his hand back and giggled at the rush of experiencing magic first hand. The towering plant came to a standstill, leaves branching off and casting a great area of shade. Hopping to the next platform, he repeated the process, growing the tree till it grazed the bottom of the upper ledges. When the last tree showered sand in his mouth, Link stood back, wiped his forehead and stared at the tree, pride swelling in his chest.
A shadow peeled off the mossy floor, damp darkened the walls. Spinning, Link reached over his shoulder and his hands closed on air. Muffling a curse, he hurtled across the grass, tripped over his unresponsive feet and crashed to the floor. Makar's skin split open, concentrated sap leaked through the cut, shining a bewitching crimson.
He frowned as the floormaster crept over him, red blood out of a green plant looked so very, very wrong.
"Link," Makar exhaled and gripped the iron lattice sealing him from all sides, a shadow prowled under the surface layer of the floor and he shivered in fright. After eons of peace, he has the misfortune of getting trapped by Kalle Demos and stolen by a floormaster all within the span of a single year. "You need to be as heavy as the Great Deku Tree to free me."
The boy groaned and wore the tiles smooth with his iron boots, he pushed against the giant slate statue sealing Makar's cell and the Korok did not find the human's antics amusing. "Please be quiet, I'm trying, I won't leave you here alone, I'll get you out of there." Link glowered at the stone head, willing it to move.
"Stone won't explode under your gaze unlike other things," Makar drily informed, "leave me here. There must be another way to get this statue off."
Pausing in his heroic effort to move the unmovable effigy, Link refocused his laser intense glare at the floormaster whirling like dark smoke under Makar's feet. "It's my fault you are in there, I shouldn't have gone alone or taken over," the blood red sap congealed into a thick line across Makar's abdomen. "I promise I'll get you out of there." He bowed stiffly to the Korok child, imparted one last, concerned glance and sailed away.
Working his anger on the countless wizzrobes and peahats, Link calmed and unfurled the dungeon map. Mini cyclones gusted through the Wind Temple and like the Earth Temple, the books wrote little about the mysterious sanctuary. He wanted to pry answers out of Makar, but the Korok was surprisingly resilient. When the child met Fado, he played the Wind God's Aria with his face trained to the ground; the previous sage did the same. No words passed between them, they simply inclined their heads to each other and parted to their respective ways.
A little cyclone, gentle unlike the pillars of water, wind and Cyclos' fury, deposited Link to a horizontal gate-ledge he opened minutes before. A wizzrobe paraded out of reach, its cloak hem brushing across mossy ground. The tip of Link's arrow burst into flames and the flaming projectile cleaved the monster's forehead. It burned into ash, its scream popping with its flesh. A swipe across the grass revealed a few perforated, wooden magic jars and opening them all, Link greedily absorbed the lime auroras. He wondered if he should ask Makar to teach him the subtle arts of sensing magic. He might be able to gauge his magic meter accurately.
Glancing at the top of his head, where not magic meter hung, Link shrugged and pushed ahead to the next chamber.
The metal stake switch sank beneath the combined weight of him and his iron boots. A distant rumble went through the temple and sword at the ready, Link stalked to the edge of the platform where the floor peeled back for a giant fan. Who built this sanctuary? There must have been a team of highly skilled engineers to command such accuracy and cunning. The machinery blended seamlessly with nature, rust did not take hold of the metal lattices and what powered the cyclones? If Medli were here, she would have firmly answered magic and nodded reassuringly. Stomach dropping at the dizzying height, Link fisted the Deku Leaf in one hand and jumped, he did not have time to safely grapple his way down the way a normal, sane person would do.
If the King of Red Lions saw this, the ground and its shades of brown rushed in a blur of motion, he would have surely admonished Link. The boy slung the Deku Leaf across his head and floated placidly, grinning at the boat's supposed lectures ringing in his ears.
He touched to the ground safely, the iron lattice hard underneath his felt boots. See? He told Daphnes, I'm all right, you worry too much, I'm not a child.
More metal work, embossed with delicate shapes of flowers and plants, blossomed beneath his fingers. No dust, despite the constant wind. The reek of iron and fresh grass clashed together and drinking a bottle of red, strawberry flavored chuchu, Link dragged an iron spring switch to a cut in the roof and dismally considered his height against the implement. Tongue clucking in annoyance, he dragged a small block across, climbed them both and rocketed to a higher platform.
Fragile wooden frames, glistening with long applied resin, lay on the floor at equal intervals, testing his weight on one, the boy quickly backtracked when the insides crumbled into dust, revealing a spike and treasure covered ground below. Disinterested, he left the room and trekked opposite, removing his sword along the way in one fluid motion.
The door scraped shut behind him, the final nail in a coffin. Link liked the sound and its ominous finality.
An orange Wizzrobe waltzed on the floor. Unlike the rest of the temple with its smooth sandstone blocks, the room contained uneven cobblestones. Bricks jutted from the wall, flames flickered, drawing obscure shadows. The Wizzrobe laughed a keening scream and waved its wand, the tip trailing golden sparks.
As the hero charged for the Wizzrobe, he stopped short and ducked when a darknut formed out of thin air and swiped its blade across his head. Holding his cap firmly, Link spun out of the way when a blue wizzrobe fired a ball of ice.
The mini-boss hung in the shadows, conducting the conjured monsters with flicks of its magic wand.
Face reflected in the darknut's platinum breastplate, Link's sword veered straight for the leather straps holding the armor together, he cut into cord, hissed and let the blade go when it burst into flames. The darknut kicked the sword and it juddered over the ground. Prowling away from the two enemies bearing on him, Link unstrapped the hammer and swung it, crushing the darknut's ribs.
Shaking its head, the monster snorted underneath its helmet, pawed the ground and sprinted, holding the sword like a lance.
A shard of ice speared Link's calf and biting his lips, the pulled the projectile free. Blood soaked his pants and cursing, he careened, switching direction in midstride and heading for the giant fireball blooming at the tip of the blue wizrobes wand. The heat seared his face and the darknut mindlessly gave chase. The fireball grew, a giant orb of writhing, bruised flames.
It rushed at Link; inhaling the boiling air and burning his lungs, he dove at the last minute, heat pained angry red patches on his skin. The fireball missed him by a hair's breadth and slammed into the darknut.
The monster dropped, fingers scrabbling for the armor locks, flesh popped in the coat of mail, like meat roasting in an oven.
Grabbing his sword, Link stormed for the orange Wizzrobe, its wand wove through the air erratically for another summon and the Master Sword snapped cleanly through its forearm. Grinning at the dumbstruck creature, the hero lifted his sword and stabbed the beating heart. The blade quivered for another moment before becoming still.
A spray of blood rose in the air when Link pulled his sword back and chucked it, it landed in the blue wizzrobe's head.
The colossal statue barring Makar's cell contained a clawshot - hookshot in this world- target and examining his new weapon, Link triggered it. A glinting arrowhead easily dug into stone and he considered how easily the hookshot will shatter craniums and scramble brains. Holding the silver chain with both hands, Link pulled and the statue glided to the front on barely perceptible tracks. Squeaking in gratitude, Makar toddled out of the cell and unable to help himself, Link carried the little leaf-sack and tossed him high in the air.
"I'm not a baby," Makar grouched, the blood on his abdomen glittering. Grabbing a potion soaked bandage, Link pressed it against the wound. "You don't have to worry, I can't really feel it anymore, it doesn't hurt."
Soaking another wad of linen with alcohol, the boy cleaned his cuts, it stung. The Wind Temple did not contain convenient jars of water to wash the blood starching his pants, nor did a stream rush through it. Scrutinizing the tear and smoothing the ragged ends as best as he could, Link stood, Makar fastened securely in his arms. The Korok did not complain and simply sagged resignedly. Hookshotting to two patches of sand waiting to be planted with saplings, Link placed Makar carefully at the edge and observed the latter dropping two seeds. He did not feel the same electric spark, but one after the other, the seeds sprouted at an alarming rate and two gnarled trees stood in their place, shedding dark green, glossy leaves.
In the Temple, two cyclones roared into existence and grabbing Markar, Link marched to the edge and blinked.
"We have to go separately," the Korok child informed the frowning human. "You can't use the Deku Leaf while holding on to me, and I can't bear both our weight." The lines on Link's face deepened. "The cell can't be used anymore, I don't think the floormasters will try to steal me.
Without waiting for the contemplating hero's verdict, Makar wriggled out of Link's hold and jumped. Emotion flared in the human, worry, anger. People thought plants were only sensitive to light, but through the years, Makar found the Korok were sensitive to almost everything occurring across the Great Seas.
The rise of Ganondorf? They felt it first.
When Link failed to be born as soon as the Gerudo prince reached a mature age, the Deku Tree informed the King of Hyrule. The nation waited patiently, scouring the continent for a blonde Hylian baby bearing the characteristics of the bearer of Courage, alas, such an individual did not arrive and with a heavy heart, King Daphnes Nohansen Hyrule sealed his beloved castle in a timeless barrier reminiscent of the sacred realm and prayed for rain to flood the land.
The next few years, rain did not cease, the races changed, some survived, others could not adapt to the new environment and became extinct. Immortal from such influences, the Kokkiri children's physiology changed. They became the Korok.
A herd of armos statues met their swift end at Link's bow and blade. The lime green glow indicating their existence snuffed out one after the other. Peahats, racing away from the tanned demon, screeched in terror when bright arrows severed their organic rotors. Flaming arrowheads charred their bodies and a breeze carried their ashes away.
Boy and Korok played the Wind God's Aria, the song's final bars cracked the stone tablet and it fell away to a gilded chamber guarded by three patrolling darknut. Tucking the WindWaker, Link twirled the sword in his hand and hesitated at the threshold. Outside, Makar drew his bow across the violin in a soft lament.
The sad song of an ocarina threaded the air.
"You never told me why you didn't want to come to the Temple. I apologize for forcing you to come here but there is little choice for us," Link said.
Makar stopped stringing the violin. "I am fine with secrets, you keep yours, I keep mine," he brusquely replied.
"..." The Master Sword cut through the air in precise arcs. From the room, the darknut halted in their march, observing the outsiders uncertainly. "The King of Red Lions taught me how to trust." Link's knuckles turned white on the sword hilt. "It does not come easily to me, my whole life I've been taught to mask and cover, to do things how I see fit. Now I try to let others help and guide me...I want to trust you and I can't do so when this," he gestured vaguely to the air, "shadow hovers over us."
Darknuts marched, their hooves drumming on stone.
"Zephos is the god of Winds." Makar's short legs ached; traversing the temple required a huge amount of energy. "When the Wind Temple was newly built, he travelled the world for a sage and arrived at Forest Haven. For some reason, it was agreed that the sages of both temples should be proficient in magic-"
"Agreed by whom?" Link asked.
"Stop interrupting me and listen!" Makar shrilled. "I don't know who agreed it, but we have a policy of non-interference ever since Saria...never mind." The Korok fiddled with the bow. "In any case the Deku Tree did not want to let us go but Zephos insisted and took Fado. A month later we got the news that Fado and the Earth sage were both murdered by Ganondorf."
Silence; thick and choking the air.
"I did not want to come here because I thought I will meet the same end as Fado," the over powering smell of sickly sweet apricots flooded the vestibule, "but because for the past century, I've done nothing to avenge him. Nothing to remember him by."
Hefting the sword till it gleamed with the light falling in the temple, Link vowed. "I will do it; I will make it right."
Minutes later, he arrived with a giant key fisted in his fingers, vainly scrubbing the blood splashed against the tunic. The trees planted in the temple became hookshot targets, the claw sinking into their yielding bark. Butchering a trio of cyan flamed bubbles attempting to thwart him from climbing the platforms, Link carried Makar to a room paneled with polished wooden beams. Two carved switches lay in front of a metal lace and dropping the Korok on one, the hero jumped on the other.
A powerful gust of wind blew from the very bottom. The giant fan ground into motion. Counting the seconds it took for the fan to stop and start, Link jumped. They floated downwards and Makar's head rotor prevented them from meeting a bloody end at the bottom.
"That was dangerous!" the Korok lectured, "you shouldn't take such risks!"
In response, Link politely smiled.
To the Korok's rising panic and disbelief, instead of stopping the blade traps with strategically placed blocks, Link hurdled across, an olive green blur weaving through the wicked blades hissing over the ground. The traps missed the human by fractions of a second and he laughed, cheeks flushed in thrill. Makar did not want to know what went through the human's head, nor did he attempt to find out. The Hero of Time was considered partially insane to continue forging a path through the dark ages of Hyrule alone, and his successor inherited his special brand of lunacy.
Staring in the face of death and grinning at it.
The boy picked an obscure blossom growing in the cracks of the Temple wall and pressed the baby blue petals in a book. Lowering for Makar, Link flipped through the journal and explained, "I pick flowers for my little sister." He paused to let his statement sink in; he never picked flowers for anyone, much less a baby sister belonging to someone else. "I want to show her all the things in the world," a dried petunia fell from the pages of the yellow book and he delicately lifted it and fixed it in place, "I have a collection of seashells as well, I'm going to teach her how to use a bow." Pitch irises gleaming in pride, he shut the book, slammed the big key into the giant padlock bolted door and it groaned upwards, revealing a sea of sand. "Please wait here, I won't be long."
And Makar waited, the image of a fragile flower embossed on his mind.
A/N: I like writing Grumpy Makar, I think he's cuter when angry. As for the Ship of Theseus theory, there are a bunch of other ways it can be interpreted so peace, everyone. I first came across it in the DS game called 999 and have been fascinated since. The game itself was very fascinating.
Much gratitude to Setriel for favoriting the story. It keeps me motivated
Once again, read and review. Constructive criticism and theories are greatly appreciated. Thank you all for taking the time to read, hope this story makes a small part of your day.