Chapter Twenty-Four

the sun strew landscape

The Master Sword lies heavy on my back. So very, very heavy, even more so than that fateful day I picked it up beneath the Lakebed Temple, striping it from Tall Link's dead hand. It's long enough that I feel it banging against my legs as I walk back into the Lost Woods, and the sheath's strap digs into my right shoulder, the thick belt heavy on my hips. There's barely enough room for my dangers and the claw shot.

The forest is cool, and the thick, white mist wraps itself around my limbs the moment I step out of the glade into the dark, angry trees. I have no guide this time, but hopefully, if I just keep walking in a straight line, I'll reach the edge eventually.

Somehow, with these woods' proclivity for supernatural shenanigans, I doubt that will actually be the case.

But I don't have any other ideas, so I just keep going, and I try not to think about the heavy sword on my back. I wish Stalfos Link hadn't left. I could really use a guide right now.

Right. I'm supposed to be doing this on my own.

It's just, as it turns out, I'm lonely. I miss having a presence at my back or by my side, even if we don't say a word for hours. I see a cool rock buried in a tree trunk, and I want to point it out to Sheik or Tetra, but they aren't here, and I'm the only one around to marvel at the wonder. The slate seemingly has the ability to take pictographs, but as I pull it from my belt and mess around with it, I can find no way to do so. Many of its functions still seem to be offline.

All this to say that I've realized I do not need to be a loner, nor do I want to be. Turns out, I like company and companionship. I just need to figure out how to be an individual amongst the group. Luckily, I seem to be trapped in these woods, so I'll have plenty of time to figure that out.

I force myself to stop, though that allows the cloying mist to swirl ever closer to me, hungry for my mind and my soul and my memories. I need to think. I can't go charging forward without a plan. The Lost Woods are obviously determined to keep me here. They stretch out endlessly on all sides, gnarled, barren tree trunks swallowed by those roiling mists, the occasional pinprick of glowing light wafting amongst the branches.

I'm completely turned around. I know that in theory I've been walking in a straight line, but if I turn around and try to retrace my path back to the Master Sword's clearing, I'll never get there. So I need a plan, a way to cleave these mists in twain. The Lantern of Shadow could probably do it for me, but that lies somewhere within Hyrule Castle, where I'm going. Perhaps the Master Sword? It was made to ward off evil, and these mists are, if not evil, then at least dark and perhaps malevolent, but I find I'm loathe to draw it from tis sheath. Its time will come, but now is not it.

So I take the Ocarina of Time from its pouch on my belt instead. I've been hearing this melody in my head since I departed Kakariko Village, something quick but sweet, like squirrels leaping between tree branches.. I place my fingers carefully against the holes but hesitate to bring the ocarina to my lips. This instrument is ancient and powerful. I need to know exactly what this melody does before I play it, but unfortunately, there is absolutely no way to do that. So I do what Sheik would not, and I launch right into it.

The melody falls easily from my fingertips as if the ocarina is eager to expel any kind of music. The tune is light and breezy, but it trips up the scales in a way that is actually a little difficult to pull off, especially as my pace increases, but I don't miss a note. It's like I've bonded to the ocarina, like it and I are now one, and how could I ever mess up something as simple as breathing?

I close my eyes as I explore the music, breathing at all the right beats as the tune repeats itself then expands upon its simple melody, twisting in harmony despite the fact that I only have one mouth and ten fingers. I am conductor and soloist, a member of the ensemble and the composer all at once. I am not me any longer, not Sleepy Link. I am the music, and the music is me, and it is one of the most terrifying moments of my life and also the most glorious.

When I open my eyes, there are shapes in the mist, but they are no longer the threatening shadows of creatures hot for my blood. No, these are children, each bearing a different instrument, a member of my orchestra. They are made of mist, so they have no color, no features, but they are small, and some wear little hats and shorts and not a single one of them seems to have shoes on.

Almost as soon as I open my eyes, the children of mist form themselves into two lines, four souls deep, and they begin to dance forward, music pouring continuously from their insubstantial instruments. I do not take my mouth from the ocarina or still my fingers as I follow them because I know if I stop, the spell will cease to be, and I'll be trapped forever, like Stalfos Link.

So I play, and I walk, even as my lips grow chapped and my mouth dry, my fingers stiff and tired. I walk, and I play even as the mists cajole me to simply let go and release the burdens of my life. I walk, and I play even as I see Stalfos Link out amongst the barren tree trunks, his eyes burning red, and his rusty sword drawn. He does not approach. I don't know if it's because he remembers me or if the power of the music repels him, but either way, he stalks me all the way through the woods, always just on the edge of my perception.

I see other visions, too. I can't make sense of most of them. They're jumbled, like creatures piled on top of each other as the mists try to show me too many things at once, but a few clearer images still shine through. Most of them are Tall Link. Most of them are of his once-future, and those hurt the most. I hate to see the reception of his wedding to Ilia, and the first child they bear together, black-haired and safe from our curse. What could have—should have—been and what will never be intwined inseparably together.

Other Links curl through the mists as well. Some are startingly, heartbreakingly young, mere children facing down the darkest shadows with a half dozen different versions of the Master Sword. One has pink hair, one shrinks, another turns himself two-dimensional as he presses against a wall.

And I see Past Link fall. Calamity Ganon is a terrible, awful beast of red and black, twining around the castle as darkness falls across the land, and Past Link flings themself in front of a blonde-haired Princess Zelda as hordes of monsters swarm them. They are already bloody and bruised and falling, but still they try, still they fight, wielding the Master Sword like they were born to it, but it is not enough as three Guardians fire off their lasers, and those monsters rush forwards, and Calamity Ganon surges towards them. Their friends are already lost, their hopes already dashed, but still they fight on. The vision ends just as Past Link falls, just as Princess Zelda flings her hand into the air…

But that is not the only version of Past Link amongst the mists. I see them sleeping in that coffin, training with the royal guard, following Zelda to the ends of Hyrule. I see what can only be their future—wandering the countryside alone, delving deep into an ancient looking temple, sitting silently by a campfire with the stars spread out above them. In one vision, they've even lost an arm, the prosthetic Sheikah in design.

I do not see anything of myself. It's probably because I'm not a true Link, just an imposter, determined to fulfill someone else's destiny. I'm fine with that. But be they true or false, I have no desire to see what future these mists think await me.

I continue through the forest, following my entourage of ghostly children. The music flows continuously from our instruments, though I can't tell if I am truly playing any more or if there's something else going on. The mists stay well away from me, and that's what counts, though my eyes and fingers ache, and the Master Sword digs a groove into my shoulder.

I search for any change in the woods around me, but they remain as dim and ominous as ever as more gruesome visions furl through the mists. I'm desensitized to them at this point, though; and they roll off my back like water droplets. I will not let the fear creep in. I won't worry that nothing has changed, that I'm still walking and walking with no sense of how much time has passed. I've spent my whole life allowing anxiety to rule me, stepping back into the shadows when I was worried I would fail, but I will not do that this time. I will not hold tight to my confidence—there's not much of that to begin with, and confidence is a fickle thing anyways—but I will hold tight to my conviction and that one part of myself that seeks to move ever onwards.

And then—an eternity or mere seconds later, I cannot tell—the forest begins to lighten. The trees look a little less like angry, gnarled sentinels and more like tired, soulful things, and patches of sunlight start to break through their branches to burn off the fog. It doesn't want to go. The mists cling stubbornly to the swaying grass and the rounded trees, but even its iron will is not enough to withstand the sure hand of the sun.

I breathe easier and easier the more light pours onto the ground, and my band disappears one by one as shapes begin to take form beyond the far off edge of the trees—the swell of a hill, the glitter of dark water, the first break in this endless landscape I've seen so far.

I pick up the pace, but I don't stop playing. I won't falter and allow the mists to close about me once more. Not when salvation lies within my sights. The melody carries me right to the edge of the forest and then over it, and in that instant, everything changes.

The temperature leaps up about fifteen degrees, and the sun shines brightly on my head, every hint of oppressive fog gone. The very air feels lighter, and the bands that have been cinching my chest shut finally lift and release, allowing me to actually breathe as I lower the ocarina from my lips, a wave of dizziness rushing over me.

I turn to look back at the Lost Woods before I carry on. They are their own entity, separate from the rest of the world, locked in their mystery and their shadow. I can't say I'm sorry to see them go.

"Goodbye, Link," I murmur to the trees. Stalfos Link can hear me. I'm sure of it. "Thank you for guiding me. I hope you can find some measure of peace, whatever that means for you. I wish I could do more to help."

And then I turn from the Lost Woods and strike off into the world again, my feet carving a slow but inexorable path towards Hyrule Castle.

I wish I could say it was a swift and easy journey, but it starts to thunderstorm before I'm two miles from the Lost Woods. Within five minutes, I'm soaked and miserable, the Master Sword a burden upon my back. I need to find one of those wild horses because looking at the map, Hyrule Castle is probably a three-day walk. But there certainly aren't going to be many out in this weather, so I trudge ever onwards, following a thin dirt part that I think is heading in the direction I want.

I could head back to the stable I spent the night at before the Lost Woods, sleep there, maybe find a caravan headed in my intended direction, but I can't convince my feet to carry me that way, not with the Master Sword on my back. I don't want to give these people false hope or have them thinking I'm someone I'm not. I'm not their Link, really. I am merely my own Link, and that will have to be enough.

So I carve a path away from the stable as soon as the dirt track I'm on turns. If I were really trying to avoid people, I'd stay off the path and cut straight through the wilderness, but I'm afraid of getting lost amongst the unfamiliar landscape, beautiful though it may be.

Out here, the grass is unbelievably soft and almost waist high in spots. Large crickets and other strange beetles leap amongst the waving strands as colorful butterflies float through the air above. I pass a small pond with a battered and broken structure beside it, and several green frogs hop within the shadows. They scatter at my approach, disappearing deeper into the water.

I rub at my palm as I walk on. The spot the corrupted Master Sword touched—the one from my timeline—still aches, though the pain has lessened since we woke up in the past. It had almost been completely gone until I drew forth this blade.

My current ensemble comes with fingerless gloves beneath the bracers, and I carefully peel them off, wanting to investigate the damage. Most of the darkness is contained to the meaty part of my palm, by the thumb, but it's also curling up the side of my hand and my two smallest fingers, and more tendrils reach down my wrist, stretching slowly but hungrily around to the front of my hand. The growing mark is mostly black, but there is also a single thread of sickly teal light crawling through, pulsating just slightly with the beat of my heart.

My stomach turns over at the sight of it, and I flex my fingers to test my mobility, but whatever's… infected me doesn't seem to have done any lasting damage. Yet. I should have thought of this before I pulled the Master Sword, should have worried more about passing on this curse or corruption, whatever it is, but I did not, and now, I'll just have to hope things turn out okay.

Which, knowing my track record…

I pull the glove and bracer back on, not wanting to look at my blackened hand any longer. The mark just barely pokes out from beneath the sliced off sleeves on my pinkie and ring finger. I will deal with it later. I don't think there's much I can do about it from this timeline.

When night falls, I make shelter in this little dune formed by two large, slanted boulders. Clearly, this is something people do a lot because there's a little cookpot and stack of wood waiting to be used, both still dry despite the day's rain. I've been foraging as I walk, and I've got a small collection of apples, some mushrooms that I'm ninety percent sure are safe, and even a large square of honeycomb, though I got stung mighty fierce for that one.

I skewer the mushrooms and apples on a couple of long, thin sticks, and then lay them within the pot, turning them every so often to make sure they're evenly cooked. When I think they're almost ready, I break open the honeycomb and drizzle the nectar over the top, letting it all sit over the heat a few minutes longer to begin to caramelize.

I'm just picking up the first skewer when I hear something rustle in the darkness beyond my circle of light. I freeze, food halfway to my mouth, my free hand sliding around the hilt of a knife. I strain my ears to listen for the sound of a threat—the rustle of bones or the rasp of heavy breathing—but instead, a quiet, young voice calls out a simple, "Hello?"

"Hello?" I reply uncertainly, unsure if there are monsters that can mimic human voices in this world.

A young girl steps hesitantly into the firelight. She can't be more than eleven, a dark hood thrown over her head, her clothes worn from traveling. I'm instantly on guard—I've seen too many odd spirits and specters since coming here—but the girl's cheeks are rosy from the chill in the air, and her clothes are still damp from the rain that ended an hour ago.

"I'm sorry," she murmurs. "I saw your fire…"

"Would you like something to eat?" I ask, gesturing to the second skewer on the spit over the fire.

The girl bobs her head rapidly and plunks herself down, scooping up the skewer before I can warn her it's hot. She scarfs half of it down in one go as I watch, my own food momentarily forgotten even as I hold onto the end of the stick.

"What's your name?" I ask.

"Alla," she replies around a mouthful of mushroom.

"What are you doing out here on your own, Alla? Especially at night?"

Alla swallows a too-large mouthful, her throat bulging with the effort. "I'm lost. Why are you out here?"

"I have to find my friends," I reply. "I left them a few days ago, and now, I have to go back."

Was it really only a few days? How much time actually passed while I was in the Lost Woods? I have no way of knowing, not until I find Sheik and Tetra. At least I know where they'll be heading; to Hyrule Castle to try to stop me, so I can link up with them there. Not that they'll be able to stop me from fighting Calamity Ganon. I'm going to help this world, no matter the cost.

"Why did you leave?" Alla asks. She's already finished her skewer and is eyeing mine, but I dig into it rather than hand it over—who knows how long I went without food in the Lost Woods.

"I thought I wanted to be on my own, but I was wrong," I reply. "How did you become lost?"

Alla heaves a great sigh. "I don't know. I was chasing something, but when I looked up, nothing was familiar, and I've been trying to get home ever since."

"Where's home? I could help you get back. I have a map."

"It's gone now," Alla says, and chills go down my spine.

"What do you mean?" I ask, though I think I already know the answer.

"It's been gone a long time," Alla murmurs, and her color fades some, the red disappearing from her cheeks, the shadows beneath her hood growing.

"You can stay here for the night, if you want," I say because I can think of nothing else. "The fire's warm, and I'll keep you safe from the monsters."

Alla perks back up, and a fraction of her color returns. "Really?"

I nod. "Of course. Maybe in the morning, we can try to find your home."

"I'd like that," Alla says, but her voice is sad and her face grey. She curls in on herself beside the fire, her arms wrapped around her legs, and for just a moment, she seems insubstantial, the orange light warping as it passes through her. I shiver, but I lie down on my side and try to sleep, hoping that tonight, for the first time, I'll be tired enough to avoid that dark place between waking and sleeping.

Of course, ever my luck, that is not the case, and as soon as my eyes close, a woman in white floats before me. Her dress and her long blonde hair waft in a breeze I cannot feel, and she hovers so that her head is about a foot above mine.

"What is this place?" I ask her tiredly. "Why am I here?"

"This is the space between," the Princess Zelda of the past answers. "Between life and death, dreaming and waking, past and present. You're tethered to it somehow, though I can't see the ties."

I touch my right palm with the fingers of my left, and a phantom pain answers me.

"Why are you here?" I say.

"I've trapped both Calamity Ganon and myself in the moment of my dying," Zelda replies, and for an instant, I see a great splotch of blood on her white dress. "It was the only way to keep him from spreading his influence across the land. So now, sometimes I'm here, and sometimes I'm in the castle."

"What happens to you if someone stops Ganon?" I ask. "Do you die?"

The blackness around us shifts, becoming colors, becoming shapes, becoming scenery until we stand in what was once a grand, hexagonal room, three stories tall with winding, red carpeted stairs linking each level. The walls and supporting columns are made of white marble to offset the bloodred carpet—which I really, really hope was already that color and hasn't been stained to look like that. There's a mess of black and pink goo… or tendrils; I'm not really sure, hanging off the ceiling, reaching long, throbbing fingers in every direction, and as I watch, a massive, slitted eye opens in the center, yellow and grotesque as it looks around the room, its gaze blessedly passing right over us.

"Where are we?" I ask, though I already know the answer.

"This is where I made my final stand. It used to be called the Hall of Ancestors, where we kept records of all the kings and queens before us. It was one of my favorite rooms until…" Zelda trails off.

"We aren't really here, are we?" I reach out and touch the banister which feels solid and oh-so-real beneath my fingers.

"We are, and we aren't," Zelda says which really isn't any kind of answer. "But we aren't in any danger. Well, no more than usual."

Which is actually a considerable amount of danger, given what little I know of this place.

I ignore the prickle along my neck and take a slow, deep breath. "You never answered my question. Do you die if Calamity Ganon is defeated and your spell released?"

Zelda sighs and perches on the white banister, her hand resting on one of the deep cracks running through it as she stares out into the hexagonal room. We're on the second floor, standing on one of the walkways that runs around the walls, linking the staircases, so she's able to look out over the entire space where broken statues throw debris across the carpets and a surprising amount of sunlight streams in through the holes in the walls. I almost think she's not going to answer, so I open my mouth to ask again because this is something I need to know, but then she takes a deep breath and begins to talk.

"I don't know. I am dying, I know that. It's what's powering the spell, but dying isn't dead, and I don't know if ending the spell would speed me along—all that time catching up with me—or if I would be placed in the present as I was in the past." Zelda looks up at me, her huge, green eyes spearing my own, and her gaze holds mine even as I wish to glance away. "You can't let worry over me stop you, do you hear me? I know you have the Master Sword, and I know you have the power to seal Calamity Ganon away for good, so you have to promise me you won't hesitate when the moment comes, not because of me."

I hesitate, but after a few seconds, I nod. I think I can do that for her. I hope I can do that for her. I open my mouth to speak, but before I can get the first word out, Zelda suddenly stiffens, and her face goes pale as she tightens her hand around the banister.

"You need to go," she says, turning to me with worry in her eyes. "Something's coming."

"Who's coming?" I demand. "How do I get out?"

Zelda shakes her head. She doesn't have an answer for either question. Instead, she just blips out of existence, leaving me alone. Without her around to hold the image of the palace in place, it soon dissolves back into blackness. I expect to feel myself falling as the floor disappears beneath my feet, but they remain solidly on… whatever it is I'm standing on.

Red threads pulse through the darkness, some of them as thick as my arm. There are no eyes, but I can still tell that this thing's attention has locked onto me, especially since a few of those tendrils suddenly shoot towards me.

I spin on my heel and begin to run, but as per dream logic, the floor—or ground or whatever—turns to muck beneath my feet and tries to swallow them up until I'm flailing to try to keep running. If this were a lucid dream, I could rip myself free, but this is something else entirely, and that thing behind me keeps rapidly gaining.

I can't run, so instead, I stop, and I turn around, and I hold a hand up to the onrushing cloud of red and black. No golden light bursts from my palm. There's no rush of power, no barrier thrown up before me. The rumbling thundercloud simply envelops me, fog rushing down my throat and up my nose, burrowing into my ear canals, my eye sockets, and I can't even scream as my palm begins to burn.

And then, finally, I begin to fall. It's like the ground beneath my feet turns to water, and I slip straight down. The tendrils clutch at my limbs, seeking to hold me in place, but gravity gets its clutches in me and tugs me down, and then I'm falling, falling, falling until I'm suddenly jerking upright instead, back in the shelter of the two boulders with the ashes smoldering beneath the cookpot and the rain gently pattering against the grass outside my little cave.

My heart thunders in my chest, and I clutch at it as if that will somehow slow it down. My hand trembles, pain lancing through it like a slick sort of heat, but it slowly ebbs away as my breathing calms. The headache doesn't disappear. It lodges behind my eye and sets up a drumbeat there.

Alla is gone. Of course, she's gone. She was a ghost after all. You can't expect ghosts to stick around all night.

I'm also definitely not sleeping again until after I deal with Calamity Ganon. I don't fancy going another round with that freaky fog cloud. What's forty-eight hours? Totally doable.

I pack up my things and set out into the rain. At least it's simply misting now, rather than last night's thunderstorm. I set a quick pace, hood thrown up over my head as the short cape flaps behind me. And in that way, the miles scroll by beneath my feet. I hum softly to myself as I walk, and my headache slowly dissipates until I'm breathing more easily.

I see only a couple people that first day, but they pass me by without any sort of interference, and none of them seem to notice the Master Sword on my back. I stop a couple times to make food, foraging along the way to make sure I have a constant stream of supplies. Night falls slowly in this version of Hyrule, so I'm able to watch the sinking sun in all its fiery glory. The colors stain the sky and paint the tall grass I walk through so brightly I think I'm moving through tongues of fire, though they don't burn. Twilight spreads across the land, the midnight blue overtaking the orangey hues bit by bit, and as the sun finally gives up its grip on the land, patches of earth begin to churn all across the prairie, skeletal hands bursting free and digging the rest of themselves free. They're easy enough to avoid as the plain is vast and their numbers small.

So I walk all night. It's actually pretty easy to stay awake. I don't feel tired at all. I feel pretty jazzed, actually, like I could keep going for an eternity. My mind even smooths out and goes blank, though I still make sure to check the map every so often to make sure I'm still headed in the right direction.

Day breaks even more slowly than the night fell, the sun's fingers peeping over the horizon as if they're curious as to what they might find. I pause for breakfast while I wait for the sun to finish rising, though I have to clear out a couple of those skeletons before I can really settle down. Their bones erupt into purple smoke the moment the orange light reaches them.

The journey continues to go well until the end of the second day. Then things start to get a little… weird. My eyes begin to burn and ache, and my steps start to slow, and there are strange images flickering at the edges of my vision. Little things at first. Leaves blowing in the wind that aren't really there. Creatures with strange, slightly warped faces.

I can ignore them at the start because I pick them out of the actual fabric of reality, but then they start to grow larger and more realistic. There are people walking beside me. I don't want to interact with them in case they're actually real. Most are soldiers, resplendent in rusted armor and tattered tunics. Some are missing limbs. Others, parts of their faces. Some are charred, more bloody, and they tramp out an endless march toward the castle, bearing me along with them.

Strange, glowing creatures soar through the sky, and I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping it will be gone when I open them again, but the dead are still there. Have they come to support me or to see me die?

At sunset, the ruins of Castle Town appear on the landscape, held in the valley of a shallow set of hills. The castle itself sits on one such hill, its white stone gleaming like fire in the dying light, the blue roof tiles the color of twilight. Strange, red and black towers rise from the ground all around it, slanted toward the castle, and odd lights wink amongst its grounds. The town itself is almost completely gone. A few watch towers still climb from the shattered walls, and the courtyard in the center of town is still intact, but all the buildings have long since been blown away. It's less than a ghost town now. It's just an impression of the past that could crumble away at any second.

More of those Guardian things skitter amongst the broken walls. They glow blue and move surprisingly silently for their size, and I suddenly realize I'm totally exposed up here on the hill, and I drop to my knees in the swaying grass. The damp earth immediately soaks through my pants.

The soldiers charge down the hill without me, and I squeeze my eyes shut. I don't want to see them all slaughtered, even if they're just figments conjured by my sleep deprived brain. Or ghosts. I'm not really sure. I can hear the clamor of battle, smell the smoke and the metal and the rusty tang of blood.

I reach back and grip the hilt of the Master Sword. The grooves dig into my palm. It's solid and real, and it grounds me as I open my eyes again. There is only the present arrayed before me. No more ghosts, no more wars, just the dead town and its glowing Guardians.

Bent double, I scamper down the hill away from the nearest Guardian until I'm pressed against one of the broken walls. I creep along, leather boots silent in the grass, aiming myself towards Hyrule Castle even as I try to swing around all the Guardians in my way. My heart is in my throat. There has to be some better way to do this. Some hidden passage or secrete entrance… Something other than walking through the front gates.

A river bisects the land in front of the castle, though it glimmers more darkly than the rest of the waters I've seen in this land. Its current looks swift, charging past the worn rocks and under the wide, stone bridge, connecting the two pieces of land. Crickets and other bugs leap from the grass as I sneak along, using the tumbled walls for cover until I'm right at the edge of the bridge, staring down at the river from the top of a small rise as the Guardians scurry around on all sides of me. There are even a few flying through the air, beaming odd orange lights at the ground. The castle itself soars into the sky, blue and white and once resplendent but dominated by those creepy black and red pillars that have destroyed the ground around them where they burst forth from the earth. There is an oppressive air to the entire area, even from this side of the bridge, and I shiver as it settles across my shoulders and warns me away. I see none of Princess Zelda's dying light.

I am so tired. My eyelids are impossibly heavy upon my face, and the Master Sword is heavy on my back. I could lie down here and sleep for a thousand years, and that malignant force coming from the castle urges me to do just that, to even tumble over the edge of the cliff, down to the river to sleep forever.

But I will not. I do not. I look behind me one last time at the broken city and the softened, suns-strewn landscape all around it. This world was destroyed once. It cannot be put back together. But maybe I can at least stop it from breaking any further.

So I do the only thing I can. I take my very first step out onto the bridge.