As I saw the prize I'd sought, light glinting off the metal from a brave ray of sunlight that peaked through the forest canopy, I smiled in triumph. Everyone I knew had told me that this was the act of a deathseaker. The fact I'd passed Martial Training as a child with top marks didn't seem to matter, because all they say was a Sheikah researcher about to enter one of the most dangerous areas in Hyrule, chasing a fairy tale.

But there I was, after a week of trekking through the ancient, overgrown collection of trees, whose original name was lost to history, now just known as The Woods, and I was still alive. Sure, I'd broken my arm fighting a Wolfos a few days earlier, but I'd packed a Red Potion. I still had the arm in a cast at that point, but it was mending more and more every day, and nothing else in the forest that far had been anything I hadn't been able to dispatch it, even with one arm. I couldn't even feel the usual pain from it, as I looked down from my hilltop vantage point towards the ruins of some sort of stone building, the prize I'd been seeking in plain view.

I would have skipped down the hill to my destination, if the ground hadn't been littered with enough forest detritus to make for an excellent tripping hazard. I'd spent the last six years in academia defending my thesis, both from those who thought the old legends held no truth at all and from those who had radically different interpretations of them. I almost couldn't take my eyes of it, the evidence I'd been seeking: a sword, still as beautiful and spotless as the day it had been forged, embedded into a stone pedestal. No one had been here to tend to it, to keep it looking clean and polished, as not a single sapient soul had lived in this part of the world in hundreds of years. And yet, it still gleamed.

For a moment, I considered examining the remains of the building more closely as I truly entered the ruins, but I brushed that thought aside as I approached the sword. I was going to be there for quite a while, those details could wait for later. Better to start with the main course.

Any miniscule doubts that my heart still harbored were banished as I was able to see the weapon in more detail. The blue handle, the linework on the blade itself, the gem embedded in the grip. They fit every description that remained of the Blade of Evil's Bane that still remained, every tattered tapestry and reconstructed stained glass window. There was no room for misidentification: this was the Master Sword.

Unable to help myself, I put on some rubber gloves, so as not to contaminate the artifact, then tried lifting it from the pedestal with all the strength I had. It was like trying to move a boulder, except even that might have budged a millimeter. The sword refused to move for me. A tiny, childish dream that perhaps I was the newest incarnation of the Hero died in my heart, and I admonished myself for even keeping it alive. After all, the Hero had never been a Sheikah, let alone a woman.

That selfish whim done, I set about work. First, I cleared an area of underbrush just outside the ruins and built my tent, happy to finally get all of my equipment off my back for more than the brief stops I'd been taking to sleep. Moving back towards the sword, I set up my generator, a newer model that converted magic into electricity rather than using internal combustion or anything like that. I'd had it fully charged to start with, but I knew I should have been capable of keeping it powered off my personal magic for at least a few more days than the week it should have already been good for. Once it was going, I plugged in my laptop and got the start-up going, then started setting up all my other tools.

A few photos of the sword weren't going to be enough to convince anyone in academia, not really. I was going to need to take every measurement possible, over a long period of time, to gather enough rock-solid data to prove my point. Once my computer was online, I attached some magitech sensors to the surface of the sword's metal, a basic way to gauge the levels and types of magic in the enchanted blade. I couldn't help grinning at the results the program was showing me: layers upon layers of magic, so complex that analysis based on prior data was impossible. I'm not exactly an expert on that type of anthropological research, but I knew a few Gerudo back home who I could show the readings to. "Fascinating. It has been 446 years since my last visitor."

The voice came from behind me, as I was looking at the sword, feminine and otherwordly in its sing-song beauty. I froze for a moment, then turned around, only to see no one. Knowing that wasn't proof at all of a lack of something's existence, I remained wary. "Where are you?" I asked, hoping my voice sounded more serious and confident than I had felt.

"...you are able to hear me?" It was only then that I realized the sound was coming from my laptop speakers, and to my surprise a new window had opened up, an audio media player. "This is unexpected. Communication has not been possible for eons. I was 97% certain that my voice would be unheard for the rest of time."

I had no clue on what any of it meant, in that moment. All I knew was that, somehow, some weird voice, which was responding to what I was saying, was playing from my computer in a way that violated my, franky limited, understanding of how anything worked. Not able to make heads or tails of what the voice had been saying in the moment, and my heart beating so hard and fast it felt like a Goron frat party was going on in my chest, all I could think to do was stammer out, "W-who are you?"

There was a short pause, as if the voice was considering how to answer. "I am Fi, the sword spirit chosen by the Goddess Hylia, and the inhabitor of the blade you call the Master Sword." My eyes suddenly went to the artifact, which I only then realized was giving off the slightest glow of lumination from the metal. "May I ascertain your identity in return?"

My mind was racing. Some legends, specifically those that seemed to be the oldest, referred to a guardian spirit associated with the Master Sword, but even I hadn't been sure how much truth was to be found in that detail. "I'm Shel'ra, though most people just call me Shel. I'm an anthropologist at the Hylian Academy of the Sciences, and I specialize in studying the mythical 'Hero' figure who appears in so many legends and historical incidents." I ran a hair through my short, snow-white hair, unable to really grasp what was going on.

"Then our meeting is fortuitous," Fi responded. "By my estimation, I have been wielded by 83% of the Hero's reincarnations, though only one counts all incarnations across the shattered timeline. Would you like me to tell you about the various Masters I have served?" The question seemed to come out casually, as if they were asking me what type of tea I'd like with my lunch.

But it was at that moment that the reality of what was going on hit me in the face. I was staring at, talking to, a primary source for nearly all of my subject matter. There was a chance that she's be biased, or lie outright, but I could always check it against what scattered other sources we had, and it was better than nothing. My mouth was dry as I was about to ask my first question, only to realize something. "Wait, I need to record this." It took some time, and explaining to Fi, but I set up two mic's I'd brought for recording ambient noise, just in case, so that they'd catch my voice and the computer's speakers clearly, then started an audio recording. "Now, uh, what did you mean by 'reincarnation'?"

Some who still held to belief in the Goddess Hylia, as opposed to worshipping the Golden Goddesses or the Four Giants or whatever else was out there to pray to, believed that people were reborn, both the high and mighty and the lowborn as well. It had something to do with the sharing of names, passed down through families, but I had never put much thought into it before that moment. "The process of living beings' existential totality being used to bring new life into the world, leading to a similar, though not identical, incarnation of that person is known as 'reincarnation'. Not all living creatures reincarnate, but my Master is one that does."

That completely upending my understanding of, well, a lot of life, but I pushed past that as best I could, focusing on what was really relevant. "So, it's true then? There really was a Hero? And he was...reborn? Reincarnated? Whenever he was needed, he would be born again?" My stance had always been that the Hero was real, though I wasn't 100% sure on how. I, and others who agreed, debated between various individuals who took up the task during their times, or whether it was one hero who came and went whenever Hyrule needed him. It seemed the answer was a little bit of both.

Fi considered my question before answering it. "Not all Heroes to wield my sword were the same person. There have been times when otherwise unremarkable people have become Heroes. But for the most part, yes. My original Master has been born in new lives, new situations, whenever evil was gathering that needed to be fought." There was a short pause, and then she added. "As someone who has met many different incarnations of my Master, I have spent the many eons considering him, among other things. While every incarnation is generally similar to the others, they are also each unique. Different characteristics, personality traits, become emphasized, while others don't present as much. Would you like to hear more about this? About the various versions Master I've served?"

It was like being offered up a thesis on a plate, how could I say no? "Yes, please," I told them, and quickly grabbed a notebook and pen so I could take notes. The recording would be good on its own, but I wanted to mentally process this as best I could, while I was listening to it. In a way, I was looking at this like the greatest lecture period in university history.

"In my experience, the quality most Hylians readily attribute to my Master is his resolve, the ability he has to face any odds and still continue, even when it seems helpless. The incarnation who lived that quality the most was one who lived in one of the worst times in Hyrule history. The country had been abandoned for an area to the north, while Ganon and legions of monsters inhabited the wasteland that had once been a prosperous nation." There was the first confirmation of Ganon, another mythical figure whose real identity was obscured by the mists of time.

But I didn't interrupt them to ask about that, and let them continue. "After the Zelda of that time had returned to her ancestral homeland to try and dispatch the King of Evil, only to be captured by him, my Master came to save her. He had nothing but a wooden sword at first, given to him by one of the hermits who still braved the wilds. He fought through legions of foes by himself, and after he used my sword to defeat Ganon, he undertook the task of waking an enchanted princess by gathering the Triforce. He did all of it, by himself, without complaint or companionship."

While pieces of that came as new information, they largely fit some of what I already knew. They had been seen as two separate legends, each with a different hero, and neither of them had a special moniker or signifier, like some other heroes did. But the spirit had mentioned the Triforce, and Zelda's. The ancient gift from the gods was largely seen as a myth, and while the many Princesses of the royal family, when we'd had one, with the name Zelda were all recorded, the more mythical aspects of them were still unknown. But all my notetaking in that direction was interrupted when, for the first time, Fi sounded sad. "But in that life, my Master had known little kindness, or compassion. Despite his heroic deeds, he did not share the warm, caring heart I'd seen in so many other lives.

"He had no mercy for the life he took in his quest, and even took to slaughtering wildlife for swordfighting practice. I would never claim any of my Master's incarnations were evil, Sher, but when that Master wielded my blade...for all his courage, I was unsure in all the time he held the sword, who he would turn it on next." I was eager to hear more, but Fi was clearly not in the mood to continue that subject. "The sun is beginning to set, and night will soon fall. You should take care, these woods are not safe."

I didn't want to admit it, but they made a good point. After telling them goodnight, I put away my equipment, just in case it rained that night, and set up a warding spell around my little campsite. Sadly, all protective or warding magic needs an exception, something that can unlock the barrier or bypass it, so I made a password to get in or out successfully, hoping most dangerous things in the area couldn't speak Sheikah. Feeling more secure and safe, not to mention satisfied, than I had so far in the expedition, I got into my sleeping bag, being careful not to jostle my injured arm, and slowly drifted off to sleep.