A hundred years is a long time. Even for a mind like mine, driven and honed, there comes with death a tendency to forget oneself and wander aimlessly in thought or over the rolling hills. I have put a great deal of thought into preparing for the hero's return. Perhaps too much; I do admit that it would be simpler to offer him the information outright. From my daughter's writings, I discovered that Link was quite the little adventurer in life, much more teachable through actions than through words. My hope is that by challenging him on this isolated plateau, I could have some way of guiding him on the path my daughter set for him.

My daughter...

I do not believe that she will read this diary. I intend to secret it from Link, but if my daughter does search this cabin after I have moved on, I wish her to know that I did not suffer in my death. The Guardian caught me in its sights, and a single beam of light tore through my mortal body, so quickly it was as if I had only blinked. When I awoke in spirit form, my body had already begun to decay, lying empty at my feet.

I had no power when I first came back. I was invisible; my hands passed through those objects I tried to touch. When I tried to speak, my voice was only wind.

Hyrule Castle had fallen now. I walked the grounds, watching the weeds grow between the fingers of corpses, bodies of men and women who had pledged their lives to me. I imagined that their gaping mouths had screamed the names of loved ones; those whose jaws were shut had whispered a prayer for someone to save them, but, of course, no one could battle a guardian and live. I watched for many weeks as the flow of the guardians from their crimson pillars trickled down to stillness, and I watched the ruined walls crumble under their own weight. I watched as monsters emboldened by the lack of human presence chased fish into the docks unimpeded, gradually making their territory in the once-great halls of the castle. I watched the Calamitous beast swirling around the highest towers, bellowing in its infinite wrath.

My spirit grew stronger. I knew I was not bound to this place, but I could not bring myself to leave. I could feel Ganon's power like a thousands suns in my unprotected spirit. No doubt he had razed Hyrule Kingdom with a wildfire's fury. The Malice fog obscured my view of the destruction, leaving the ruin to my imagination. I was terrified to leave, to see the death that had befallen my people, and the ruin of my beloved homeland.

I can admit here freely that I am not a brave man.

But Zelda, my daughter, your courage knows no bounds.

She appeared at the castle gates at sundown, wearing the same dress she had left in. Her every step was labored, every inch of skin blistered and bruised. She was haggard, exhausted, stumbling, alone. The grime one her hands concealed the Triforce mark that shone from the back of her hand. She was alive. I didn't care about her power in that moment. She was alive.

The beasts sensed her presence. It turned to face her. Its awful, shapeless head turned to face her in a facsimile of a sneer. It did not fear her. It believed itself invincible

Zelda approached it calmly, her hands at her sides. She held no fear, no hesitation. She walked the long road without a glance toward the Guardians who blazed to life as she passed: at the command of her power, the red light in their eyes evaporated, and they lay still.

For one hundred years, I have wondered what my spirit would have been capable of at that moment. I have trained my second flesh to show itself, to speak, and to manipulate objects. But in the grip of isolation, I had never yet attempted to make myself known.

I wanted desperately to do so at that time, to speak to my dear Zelda, but what I would say evades me to this moment. I recalled what I had written on the day before my passing. I had said I would speak gently with her; how feeble that now seemed! Gentleness could not assuage the damage I had done, nor ease her spirit. There would be no apology sufficient. her power had awoken in spite of me, but because of me, she faced her destiny alone.

She seemed as resolute as ever, her head held proudly high. When that proud young woman saw her father's ghost, would her composure have changed? Would she have stopped to say goodbye? I doubted it. I could have distracted her. Old habit would have turned her eyes away from me, her shoulders drawn in as unconscious defense against a scolding. To think of it brings tears to my eyes, though I must stifle them, for the droplets shine like jewels, and I have been accosted before by ravens trying to steal them.

My daughter raised the Triforce of Wisdom high into the air at the sanctum's gate, and the Calamity devoured her whole.

Zelda's spirit is strong. She was a strong-willed girl before her disappearance, but now her sould shines like a lighthouse in the dark of this apocalypse, her beacon illuminating the kingdom she gave everything to protect. Even here, on the Plateau where I await the chosen one's return, I feel the strength of her heart. Zelda will fight until her final breath... just as her young knight did.

Link was borne into the Shrine of Resurrection by a somber, weary Purah, his body already greying. I suppose that was why my spirit was drawn to this place after I left the castle; after all, legend tells of a displaced king who taught a hero in the shadow of evil. I supposed there was no one more suited than a ghost to wait while the process of Link's death was painstakingly reversed. All I must do is bide my time.

But I have wondered, on the nights when the bitter wind howls through the little cottage left abandoned on the cliffside: why me? Why would my spirit be called to await the hero? Surely some master or teacher from his former life could be consigned to such a duty.

I have wondered whether this destiny was given to me as reprimand. I could not guide my beloved Zelda in life, and so in death I have doomed myself to wander in wait of another chance to serve. I have wondered, on winter's nights when the malice-twisted remains of monsters' corpses stumble through the forest, where my dear queen has gone on to. Was it she who brought me here? If we were ever to reunite, would she receive me with open arms? It was I who forced her daughter to ace a hundred years' battle with the fiend her foremothers had tried in vain to put an end to. If the cycle were to have been broken, and Zelda perished in her fight... I would be the only one to blame.

I have wondered, in the sunsets when Zelda's power glow brighter than the clouds, how that power had come to her, and so intensely. When she had departed, she had not been able to access one iota of the sacred power. But when she returned, her strength could conquer the Triforce of Power as its equal. And I have realized...

Zelda had come home unscathed. Her knight had not.

Link had sacrificed his life for Zelda.

Link loved Zelda.

In what capacity this was true, I could not know, but the truth of it was as sure as the truth of my own death. Link had shown Zelda an act of love... and if that was what had awoken her power, then I had never loved Zelda.

I believed I loved her. She was every thought in my mind and every yearning in my heart, my only worry, my only pride, and my only joy. How I had wished to comfort her in her hours of mourning, to praise her progress and her intelligence, to let her hear the words from my own voice: Zelda, your father loves you to the ends of the earth.

But in those nights that she had cried herself to sleep, seven years old and missing her mother, I had shut her door, and left her to her sorrows, never even making known that I had been there. When she had come to me in my study, showing off her latest project with a smile that showed me the teeth I didn't know she'd lost, I had steeled my heart, and crushed the simple automaton beneath the heel of my boot. She had never visited my office again.

As she had grown up, I heard of every milestone secondhand. I had her diary confiscated every few months, until the entry she made when she was eleven, she wrote to me, telling me she knew I had read her private thoughts, and that she hated me with every ounce of her being. I burned every one of her journals on that night. I still remember their contents, though. There was a boy in the castle, a young son of one of the cooks, whom she had taken a fancy to. In desperation to keep Zelda's attention, I had fired the cook, and banished them both from the castle.

I loved Zelda, but she detested me.

And I deserved it.

It was too late for apologies. There was nothing I could have done to convince her I was a loving father, because I wasn't one. I had been a cruel, unyielding one, and in that way, I was no better than the Demon King himself.

The deep of night has set in, and the bird trees bend in the wind. Outside my window, the campfire of a trio of bokoblins sparks and burns. They are roasting meat and seafood. I cannot smell the aroma, but I imagine it to be just like the dish served in the castle all those many years ago.

Note: see if I can get Link to cook me one

It is a good reminder that no matter what we regret, life moves on without us. Zelda battles Ganon in the sanctum, but the grandchildren of her servants battle the Guardians on the plain. Link slumbers in the shrine, but those who buried him there search for ways to aid him. And my spirit's mission is unfinished. Zelda, if you ever read this: I do not forgive myself, but I will not be paralyzed in my guilt, the way I was when I saw you that day in the castle. I cannot prove my love to you, but if there is anything I can give you, some aid, some advice: I will remain here on this plateau, and I will offer you all that is in my power.

I hope to see your return from the castle, with your knight at your side, and I hope he treats you well. I hope to watch your life unfold. Make friends, find someone to love. Continue the research that you love so much. Reunite with those you hold dear. Make a home for yourself, in the country, perhaps, and raise a family, if that is ever of interest to you. But I won't hover over you. My ghost haunts you as it is.

continue reading?

Note: Father, are you still on the Plateau? Link has told me

so much about you. We're only passing through; we're going to paraglide down to the lake to see the dragon. We'd love to see you there. I don't want anything from you, but… a hug might be nice. If you think you're ready.

Love (I promise,)

Zelda