Legend of Zelda: Reconciliation

by Rose Zemlya

Sequel to The Legend of Zelda: The Return. Based loosely on A Link to the Past.

23. Chapter 22 and Interlude

Legend of Zelda: Reconciliation

Author's Notes

O.O

I am as shocked as you are.

Less than three,

Rose Zemlya

P.S. All the things I said in the author's notes on the last chapter still apply.

xxx

Chapter 22

"I think I have a concussion." It hurts to talk. It hurts to breathe. I suddenly wish I hadn't woken up.

"I know you have a concussion," Hunter replies in a tight voice. "I know you have a concussion, because you've been smashed in the head too many times in too short a period to not have a concussion. By all rights, you should be dead. But apparently that thick skull of yours is good for more than just picking fights with Gerudo Queens and crazy Makani."

I wince – and not just because of amazing amounts of pain rolling into my newly aware mind. "You're mad at me," I note. I try to point at him in an accusatory fashion, but even the attempt at motion causes impressive waves of agony to break across my brain and I can suddenly see all sorts of pretty colours. I don't try moving again.

Man. I need to never turn my back on Nobernal again.

"Why would you think that?" Hunter asks sharply, blue-green eyes narrowed and livid, not an ounce of sympathy in them for my apparently incredibly battered state. "Because you've gotten us in so deep over our heads here I don't think we'll ever see daylight again? Because that bloody Makani broke one of your arms and a few of your ribs beating you long after you'd stopped moving? Or maybe it's because I'm the one who had to carry you back here, to this dirty little tent in the middle of a place called Misery Mire and pray you woke up at all, preferably before the sun set? And now that the sun is setting and you are awake, I get to spend the rest of the night huddled in here, by myself, surrounded by my people's ancient enemy who are just a little riled up because a certain leader of theirs is walking around with a completely unnecessary new hair cut." He snorts and turns to our bags. "No, Link. I'm not mad at you. Not at all."

"Hunter," I say stiffly, "it's not like I—"

"Here." He shoves Sahasrahla's magic mirror into my good hand and tosses the rabbit-sack at me negligently. "The sun's setting. We can talk later."

I wince again.

Wow.

He's really mad at me.

I stare at him for a moment, then finally sigh and turn my eyes back to the mirror. I take minor comfort in the fact that my broken arm is actually set, and somebody's rubbed salve onto and bandaged the wound Ciardi gave me when I cut her hair. He can't totally hate me.

"Link," Hunter says quietly, without looking at me, just as I feel the transformation start, "Ciardi accepted your Blood Challenge. There's some ceremony to take place in the ring tomorrow."

I want to respond, but the Beast's face fills the mirror, and everything is lost in an ocean of fear.

xxx

When I wake up the next morning, I'm alone in the tent. This causes me no small amount of alarm, as I somehow don't see Hunter willingly taking a stroll out among the Dark World Gerudo camp all by himself, nor would I encourage him to do so. I shake myself free of the rabbit-bag and straighten, but my panic recedes instantly when the tent flap opens and Hunter steps inside.

"Sorry," he says, and pauses in the door. "I meant to be back before sunrise, but I ran into some complications."

"Complications?" I ask, struggling to resist the urge to twitch my nose. Goddess I hate the mornings. I rub it vigorously with my sleeve instead, trying to drive the rabbit out of it.

"I'll explain in a sec," he says. He turns around, ostensibly to fasten the tent flaps closed again, but he doesn't do it quite fast enough to hide the awkwardness on his face. "Do you remember anything that happened after Nobernal attacked you?" The question sounds casual, but he doesn't meet my gaze and I know him better than that. I know what he's hoping for, and since I feel guilty about dragging him into this at all, I attempt to give it to him.

I snort. "I don't even remember Nobernal attacking me," I tell him. "I remember saying 'I did give you a chance', and then I remember the floor rushing up to meet my face, and then that's about it."

He offers me a small, uncertain smile as he stops pretending to care about the tent flaps and turns back toward me. "You're not a very good liar," he tells me.

I shrug. "That's why I've got you," I say, giving up the pretence immediately. "Still mad at me?"

"I think I live in a perpetual state of mad at you," Hunter says with an easy grin that is one part forgiveness, one part apology. "Technically speaking I'm never not mad at you. But I am currently no more mad at you than I usually am. I might even be just a little bit sorry for snapping at an invalid like that."

"Invalid!" I protest.

The grin fades from his face and I see something of what caused him to be so mad at me in the first place. I realize with a start it wasn't anger, but fear. "You didn't see yourself, Link," he tells me softly. "You weren't even awake long enough to understand just how massacred you were. Nobernal...Nobernal did a number on you. I was...I wasn't actually expecting you to wake up at all. I kept praying the sun would set so you would heal before whatever massive internal bleeding you had going on could kill you." He shakes his head and scowls against the memory.

I shift my weight and stare at him. "I'm...sorry," I say, and I mean it. "I wouldn't...I didn't mean to put you through that. I was pretty sure they wouldn't kill us because Ganon needs you too much and he and I have that whole nemesis thing going on. Guess I underestimated Nobernal's...um...control."

"Yeah," Hunter says softly, and the remembered fear in his eyes frightens me in turn. "Big time."

"But," I add quickly, "I had to do it. Ciardi would never have accepted the Blood Challenge if I didn't give her a reason to. I had to make it personal, you see? And I couldn't...I'll admit I didn't think it all the way through, but it was just a golden opportunity and outside of me getting turned into a punching bag, it worked out perfectly. She accepted my Challenge, right? That's what I wanted – she wouldn't have otherwise. She'd have nothing to gain by it. You understand?"

"I do," he admits and comes and drops into a seat beside me, dragging the backpack over to look for breakfast. "I didn't at first, but I thought about it after and I get it. It's why I'm not mad at you anymore. It's also," he adds, sticking a ration in his mouth and speaking around it as he digs for a second piece, "why I went out super early this morning to find you a present."

"A present?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. "Is it food? I'll accept it if it's food because this dried crap is crap."

"It's not food," Hunter says with a wry grin, handing me a bundle of dried crap to eat.

"Oh," I say, disappointed.

"I think you'll like it anyway," he notes, and reaches into one of the six thousand hidden pockets he has in his uniform. When he pulls his hand out again, along with it comes a thick, somewhat frizzy, Gerudo-red ponytail.

I drop my dried crap into my lap and snatch the chunk of hair right out of his hand, staring at it in shock. "Nayru, Farore and Din!" I gasp. "Hunter, is this what I think it is?"

"It wasn't easy to get," he tells me. "Sneaking anywhere's out of the question given they all have heightened senses, and I don't smell anything like a Gerudo. They all know I'm coming long before I get there. But...I managed it." He gives a shrug that is meant to be humble, but means he is actually delightfully full of himself.

I don't bother ruining his moment. "You are totally my favourite," I say. "Completely. Without equal in this world or the other."

He nods as though this was the obvious conclusion all along and he's just been waiting for me to smarten up and realize it. "Just remember to tell Neesha that when we get her back," he tells me.

"No," I say flatly. "She'll hit me. Your preferential status is strictly between you and me. Now help me figure out how to use this for the absolute maximum impact. Should I wear it like a tail? Tie it into my own hair? Wear it like a necklace? It's probably not long enough for a necklace. A bracelet maybe? What would be more offensive?"

"You're such a child," Hunter says, but he's grinning broadly.

The tent flap flies open suddenly and Hunter snatches the ponytail out of my hand and hides it away before I'm fully aware that he's done it.

I greet our visitor with a dull look. "I see you people don't know how to knock anymore than the Gerudo back home do," I say with a snort.

Apheri snorts back at me. "You're wanted at the ring," she says flatly. "Hope you found a third." She turns and leaves without saying another word.

I turn to Hunter and flash my teeth at him. "Come on," I say, "I'll fill you in on the ceremony on the way. Let's go offend some Gerudo sensibilities."

xxx

I think the whole freaking camp has turned out for this.

Makes sense, I suppose. They probably haven't had a show like this in years. They howl and jeer as Hunter and I step into the empty ring, but unless my ears deceive me there's at least a howl or two that's not meant as an insult. Word about Ciardi's hair must have spread already. We've earned ourselves a couple fans – that is to say people who will cheer twice as hard for us as we die. Hunter, naturally, doesn't react either way. I offer the crowd of feral women a florid bow, and take the opportunity to flash the shiny new ponytail I've fastened to my belt.

There's a sudden uproar when they see it. First a general, startled gasp. Then a few women laugh, harshly. A few others howl or snarl. More than a few of the wolves bark. But I've made my point and it's been received.

"You know," I muse conversationally, "there are worse ways to go than hacked to pieces by a bunch of scantily clad desert women."

Hunter's eye twitches, just a bit at the corner. "No," he assures me, "there's not."

"Enough!" calls a strong voice from the back of the ring. The gathered Gerudo immediately shut up, falling still and silent as Ciardi storms through them, into the ring. What remains of her red hair hangs down around her ears, and the women around us either stare intently at it, or struggle to stare somewhere else. A few sets of golden eyes move from the ponytail at my waist to the lack of one on her head. Ciardi either doesn't care or does a decent job pretending not to.

Nobernal creeps along behind her, like a sulky shadow, at once fearful and hate-filled. Her eyes are on Hunter and I, but every now and then she looks back at Ciardi and a disturbing mix of worship and love crosses her face.

Lierana and Apheri stand at Ciardi's other side. They don't look at each other. Apheri stares straight ahead; Lierana watches Ciardi but pretends she's not. The tension between the two is almost visible.

"I will have order in my camp."

Ciardi is as glacial as she was when we met her yesterday, having regained her previous composure. This ceremony is a formality – everyone knows the Challenge is accepted – but a necessary one. This is where we bluster and pose and threaten. This is where we state our case and try to win over supporters. This is where we set the stakes and conditions that will govern the Challenge.

We each need to project an image, here. Sell a version of ourselves to the spectators.

Ciardi sweeps her eyes over the gathered Gerudo, taking the time to make them all feel like they've been looked at, like they've been judged. It's a blatant reminder of her authority – it's a strange gesture, given that I'm the only one here who technically needs to be reminded of that, and I'm suddenly blinded by a startling realization.

This Challenge means nothing to me. It's a means to buy time – either for Hunter and I to come up with an escape plan , or to find the maiden imprisoned here, or for Destiny to take the decision out of my hands. But it doesn't mean nothing to Ciardi. And it doesn't mean nothing to the Gerudo here.

This Challenge isn't about what either of us wants. It's about leadership. It's about loyalty. It's about who these women follow.

Ciardi's not afraid I'll take leadership from her, but I can do some irreparable damage to her claim to it. I already have. The ponytail fastened to my belt was a bigger blow to her than I thought it was – it's caused others to doubt her strength, and once doubt sets in other challenges will come, like they do for Apheri. Small at first, leading to bigger and bigger until one day you've lost it all.

I thought I was hitting Ciardi's pride, striking at her dignity. I thought I was demonstrating my disrespect. I thought it was personal. I failed to take into account the effect doing so would have on this group of Gerudo.

This pack of wolves.

Ciardi's inability to exert authority over me is casting doubt over her right to exert authority at all. She has to win this Challenge to win it back. She has to defeat me, publically. She has to make me submit.

I meet her icy golden eyes and feel the beginning of a grin that has just a little bit of the beast in it.

This is going to be, at once, harder and easier than I thought.

Ciardi's pose, naturally, is that of the cool, collected overlord. Ponytail or no ponytail, she is the leader of these women, these Gerudo. She is strong, she is fierce, she is proud. And it's very clear to everyone assembled that she means to kill me. Brutally. Her stance says she's in control, has been from the start. The choice of Nobernal standing behind her was a good one. If she can control a Makani she's obviously strong enough to lead the pack.

I had been planning to stick to the King shtick, continue to stubbornly insist that I am what I am and hope the shock value doesn't wear off too soon. I cast that aside almost instantly when I realize the game we're actually playing. These women care about who their King is the same way a thirsty man cares about what he drinks. Sure, he'd kill for a glass of wine, but he'll take whatever you can give him. I don't need to keep insisting I'm King. My mistake coming in here was making a play for protocol, appealing to the rules.

This is the Dark World.

The rules went out the door a long time ago.

I let a little more of the Beast loose and my grin widens as I chuckle lowly, derisively. "Nice hair," I say. Hunter elbows me sharply, the gathered Gerudo exhale a startled hiss, and for the briefest of moments Ciardi's frozen eyes catch fire, like they did yesterday. It's gone the next moment, though, and she remains composed and in control.

This whole thing is about control.

"It will grow back," she says flatly. "Your head will not." But despite the harsh round of chuckling that works its way through the Gerudo ranks, the mood is suddenly different, the playing field a little more even. Her grip isn't as strong as she thinks. My defiance is eating away at it already. Now all I have to do is stay alive long enough to keep being defiant.

I unfurl my grin into a full-blown smile, complete with too many teeth. "I doubt you could get to it," I tell her. "Unless you want to have your little pet there attack me from behind again. I have to admit, I was expecting better of you. The other women at the Fortress like to tell me stories about their lost sisters. About how awesome they were, how skilled, and fierce and proud. How brave. Shame I'm going to have to go home and tell them what I found was a bunch of cowards, cheating their way out of a real fight."

There's a surprised murmur from around the ring. That little detail obviously hadn't made it out of Aperhi's tent yesterday. She probably let everyone think she'd busted me up herself.

She's not unaware of the talk. Her scowl settles so deep into her face I doubt it'll ever come out again. "Enough bluster," she says angrily, wisely choosing to ignore my bait and end phase 1 of the ceremony. "I will hear your Blood Challenge, little boy, if you still dare to speak it."

Fine by me. "You have a crystal here," I say. "In your care. It contains a person. I issue a Blood Challenge for their freedom and safety, as well as my own and Hunter's. I have only one condition – that I see the crystal before you accept."

"You question our honour?" Ciardi demands coldly.

"I question yours," I return angrily. "For reasons I've already made clear. You're honour bound to meet my condition. Do you refuse?"

She growls at me, but waves a hand. Two women peel off from the crowd and move to a nearby tent. It's smaller than the others, barely big enough to fit two people standing up, and covered in ceremonial decorations. The women pull back the flaps hiding its contents and I blink in surprise.

The crystal that had contained Hunter had been small, worn around Blind's neck. But this crystal is huge – big enough to display its contents in life-size proportions.

"Who is—," Hunter starts to say, but then chokes and does a double-take.

"Neesha," I breathe, a unique blend of relief and fear mingling in my gut – for a moment the rabbit threatens to run the beast right out of my chest. I start to reach out to her, then catch myself doing it and lower my hand. Can't show weakness now. Not in front of this many Gerudo. But...seeing her...knowing she's okay...it's a big deal.

But she's not really okay.

Not yet.

"Is she wearing make-up?" Hunter manages, sounding strangled. So much for his Very Sheikan Habits.

"Not the time, Hunter," I mutter under my breath as I turn back to Ciardi.

She raises an eyebrow at me. "Satisfied?"

"Horrified more like," I tell her with a dark scowl. "I knew you'd have fallen, I knew the Dark World would have corrupted you, but far enough you'd imprison one of your sisters like this?" The collected Gerudo blink in surprise and turn to look at the crystal again, but Ciardi gestures quickly and the women holding the flaps open allow them to fall shut again. I don't release Ciardi's gaze, and something in my own hardens. "Afraid they'll see the truth?" I ask coldly.

The tent flaps don't phase some of them – there's more than a few dark faces around the ring now, and foremost among them...

"She's one of ours?" Apheri demands, eyes narrowed suddenly. "That girl is Gerudo?"

"Of course not," Ciardi snaps angrily, turning her icy glare on Aperhi, who shrinks back and lowers her eyes, though the sudden, bitter twist of her lips doesn't fade. It's a small gesture, Ciardi turning away from me, but it does worlds to help my cause. It's an unexpected acknowledgement that I'm not her only threat, which erodes her support even more. I need to keep pushing. "What Gerudo would dress like that?"

"Look closer," I say flatly, addressing Apheri directly now, ignoring Ciardi as insignificant. "Her face, her eyes, her hair. Her skin. She's Gerudo. Neesha of the Red to be exact."

"Too young to be a red," Ciardi points out, turning back to me. There are embers under the ice in her eyes. "Your story has more holes by the second."

"Youngest ever, as a matter of fact," I tell her. "Named to the red after obtaining an artefact from the ruins of the Spirit Temple, right from under the nose of the witches Koume and Kotake. Named to the red as the only Gerudo at the time the new Gerudo King – born a hundred years after Ganondorf – would trust at his side."

"New Gerudo King," Ciardi scoffs. "You, I assume?"

"Me," I confirm. "And for what it's worth, the girl in that crystal is ten times the Gerudo you'll ever be."

"Enough," Ciardi shouts, quelling the sudden uproar from the crowd and attempting to bring their attention back to the situation at hand. "Your condition has been met. Do you issue the Challenge?"

"I do," I say, without hesitation, flexing my hands eagerly. "A hundred times over I do."

"Then I accept," Ciardi responds. "I make no conditions because I don't need them. If I win, I win. And that's all there is to it." Damn. I was hoping she'd make the condition that I had to submit to her before I died. That would have automatically meant that she acknowledged she doesn't currently have authority over me. Guess she's smart enough for that, at least. "Declare your second."

"Hunter of the Sheikah," I say immediately. "Declare yours."

"Lierana of the Gerudo," she says, and there's a startled gasp from the assembled Gerudo – Neesha is immediately forgotten in this unexpected political twist. Apheri's face is like a stone and she refuses to react. Hunter whistles lowly beside me.

"Kiss of death," he says for my ears only. "Ciardi's picked a new favourite."

"Declare your third," Ciardi says.

"Neesha of the Gerudo," I answer immediately, and point at the tent hiding her crystal once more. Hunter sucks in his breath and holds it. "Let her out. She'll respect the terms of the Blood Challenge."

"No," Ciardi says immediately. "Bad enough I allow that one," and she gestures negligently at Hunter, "to continue to be free. I will not willingly free a second maiden. Choose another."

I stare her down for a long moment, testing the limits of her resolve on this.

Unfortunately for me, it's strong. I don't think she'll bend.

Goddess forbid Neesha get out and start proving just how Gerudo she is.

"Fine," I say. I turn to look at Apheri, who's staring at Neesha's tent with the barest of frowns playing across her face – perhaps wishing herself that she could speak to the dark-skinned redhead trapped within – Neesha of the Gerudo, or a Malon with a tan? "Apheri," I say. She blinks in surprise and turns to look at me. For a second our eyes meet and I engage in my second staring contest in as many minutes. She goes from startled to offended to pensive in a matter of seconds as she realizes who I'm about to choose as my third.

She turns to look at Lierana, standing smugly beside Ciardi – probably hasn't paid attention to anything that's happened since she was chosen. Apheri scowls at her, then turns to look at Nobernal, skulking behind Ciardi like an animal, or less than. A once mighty Sentinel, reduced to a personal lap dog. She looks out over the gathered Gerudo, searching for support, but finding none. Ciardi's abandonment is complete.

Finally she turns to look at Neesha's tent again, and her face hardens.

Gotta do it now, before she changes her mind. "Apheri of the Gerudo," I say, louder. "Apheri of the White. Will you be my third?"

"You can name me without asking," she notes. "I cannot refuse."

"Which is why I ask before I name," I respond. "Apheri of the White. Will you be my third?"

She hesitates, but only a moment. Something of that mysterious fourth layer I mentioned before blows briefly through her eyes – for a moment the gold seeping into her irises almost seems to recede – before disappearing again.

"Yes," she says, and crosses the ring, much to the shock of everyone gathered. "I will be your third."

"Aperhi is my third," I say, turning back to Ciardi who is doing a good job of trying to not look surprised. "Declare yours."

"The only reason I'm doing this is to kill Lierana," Apheri informs us under her breath as she joins us, her face saying quite clearly that her life is ruined anyway, so she has no problems throwing it away now.

"The only reason I'm doing this is to not get killed," Hunter tells her, his face saying quite clearly that his life is also ruined, but he'd like to keep it anyway, thankyouverymuch. "Welcome to the team."

Ciardi's face splits into a broad smirk that is nothing short of mean, and my gut twists unpleasantly. I realize a half-second before she says it who she's going to pick and any smugness I may have felt about 'winning' the opening ceremony turns to ash in my mouth.

"Nobernal of the Sentinels," says Ciardi.

The gathered Gerudo erupt into a sudden riot of noise, and I feel like the ground has suddenly dropped out from under me. Why – why – didn't I see that coming?

"Well," Hunter says grimly as Apheri's shoulders droop. "That's it. We're dead."

xxx

Hours later we're sitting in our tent and still fighting over how to handle the situation now that it's once again spiralling out of our control.

"It's not the end of the world," I insist. "I've killed a Sentinel before, right?"

"No," Hunter corrects me angrily, his patience wearing entirely too thin, "the Beast killed a Sentinel before. And you'll forgive me if I don't like the idea of you just letting it loose. We don't stand any better chance against the Beast if it turns on us, than we do Nobernal."

"I wouldn't let it loose!" I say, keeping myself from shouting only through a supreme effort of will. "I'm not an idiot!"

Hunter looks like there are many things he wants to say in response to that, but he chooses to remain silent because he is passive-aggressive. Instead he throws his hands up into the air and lets himself fall limply back onto the blankets.

"It doesn't matter," he says dismally. "We're so unspeakably screwed right now. Our opponents are two Dark World Elite Gerudo and a corrupted Makani. Our only ally is another Dark World Elite who hates our guts and probably wants us dead as badly as our enemies do. We have to beat these women at various forms of combat in which they specialize and have trained since they were old enough to lift the weapons in question. And the Makani is a Makani. I'll give that a minute to sink in, because I'm not getting the impression it has yet."

"That's for staying positive," I snap irritably.

He lifts his head to glare at me. "What do I have to be positive about?" he demands.

"We're alive," I try.

"For now," he returns dully

"We found Neesha."

"And we're going to die before we can get her out of that crystal."

"We're...we have...," I gesture inarticulately, trying to think of something else, something he won't have a comeback for. I come up with nothing. In lieu of a valid end to my sentence I grab the bag laying beside me in a fit of rage and hurl it across the tent.

"Link!" Hunter says, sitting up again. "What the Hell? You're going to break—!"

"Who cares?" I cut him off viciously, getting to my feet and storming over to the tent door. "We're dead anyway, right? That's what you keep saying."

He pulls back in surprise and I exit the tent in a huff.

I'm going to have to apologize for that later, but I just...

It's not fair of me to expect him to be positive right now. It's not fair of me to expect him to be the one who has to think of a way out of this, or to find the upsides. Maybe he's not as affected as I am by this realm, but he's still affected and that's not his fault anymore than it's mine.

I just...

I'm tired of never having any kind of hope.

I'm tired of not being able to find the upside.

I'm just tired.

There's a tent toward the centre of the camp, near the ring, that's vastly larger than the others – it appears to be sewn together from various tents, in fact, combining them all into one huge tent. I suspect – and the suspicion is confirmed when I pull back the door and enter – that it's a common hall of sorts, for the Gerudo to gather and relax, probably to eat and drink while they're at it. I head there instinctively, habit leading my feet to a gathering place for friends, even though I have no friends here except the one I just pissed off back at my own tent.

I should go back. We still don't have a decent plan of action, and this could very well be my last day of breathing. Or Hunter's. Or both of ours. I shouldn't be spending it looking for something I won't find anyway.

But I need to clear my head.

Maybe I can pick a fight with someone. Get some kind of outlet for this pent up restlessness.

I can smell food cooking somewhere at the back as soon as I enter – roasting meat – and my stomach growls, hungry for something with substance, but it takes everything I have just to eat our dried rations and pray they didn't used to be anything sentient. I have much less faith in these particular Gerudo. I'll skip the food.

A woman near the front – wolf arms and a tail, but Gerudo face – turns and scowls at me. "What are you doing here?" she demands. "You're not—"

I ignore her and push deeper into the tent, weaving my way through the Gerudo spread out on mats and at the odd table. There's a hundred pairs of eyes on me and the tent is suddenly a lot quieter than it was when I entered. It irritates me more than it should. I can feel the Beast in a distant way, lurking around the edges of my awareness, prowling restlessly. I noticed it at the acceptance ceremony earlier today, too.

Something about these women in large numbers riles the Beast up.

I pause in the centre of the room and grind my teeth.

"Last I checked," I say darkly, "the terms of the Blood Challenge mean I'm an honoured guest until the Challenge is complete." I throw a burning glare around the room. "You're all being terribly rude right now."

There's a moment of brittle silence, and then one of the women barks a laugh and turns back to her previous discussion. Within moments the rest of those gathered follow suit.

Despite the general unpleasantness of the company here, despite the Beast's restless pacing in my head... even though these aren't my Gerudo, and this isn't a desert, and instead of the ever-present, unforgiving wind I hear the ever-present unforgiving typhoon that rages around this camp...the simple familiarity of being in a common hall full of Gerudo women talking and laughing and enjoying each other's company soothes my jangled nerves to a ridiculous degree.

But, as all things in the Dark World, it's not without its pain. I close my eyes and waste a moment wishing I was in the desert, and these were my Gerudo. Any minute now, Amplissa would see me sitting alone and cutting my leever into fanciful shapes instead of eating it and she'd throw something at my head. Aliza would immediately start lecturing her in a horrified way about protocol and what you can and can't throw at the King, and I would feel the need to cut her off by throwing something at her head. Probably one of my fanciful shapes. She would turn around really slowly, burning with rage, and just stare at me. I would probably feel obligated to call her on.

I open my eyes and the comraderie of the image fades, replaced with unfriendly golden stares, and Gerudo gone so feral they probably don't remember the sound of the desert wind.

These women are lost, and they don't even know it.

Something wet and hot strikes the back of my head, and I whip around, startled.

Apheri sits, slouched at a small, lopsided table in the back corner of the tent. In one hand, a recently emptied fork, in the other a crude mug she's holding in a death grip. I pull my hat from my head and shake it free of the meat she threw at me, then raise an eyebrow at her and approach.

"You could have just called me," I note.

"I was pretending it was a bomb," she tells me, an undeniable slur in her voice. She doesn't straighten, she doesn't even really focus on me. I would be surprised if she could. She's completely blitzed. "I was pretending it was a bomb and I was throwing it at you and it blew you up." She gives me a disgruntled look. "But it didn't."

"You're drunk," I say flatly.

It's not a question, but she answers it anyway. "Yes. I figured hey! Why not? It's not like I need discipline anymore. It's not like I have any dignity left to lose. Ciardi threw me aside like yesterday's meat. For...for Lierana, who is—who is...a backstabber. She stabs backs." There are a plethora of emotions chasing each other across her face right now. Anger, betrayal, hurt, offence. "And then you have to go and name me your third," she jabs the empty fork at me accusingly. "So whatever...whatever respect I had left in the eyes of these people...there wasn't much of it, but it's gone now too. Now I'm even more...I'm even more..."

I take a seat opposite her at the table and frown. "You agreed to be my third," I point out. "I didn't—."

"You're blonde," she cuts me off angrily, and it's definitely an accusation. She points unsteadily at my uncapped head with her empty fork. "Your hair is yellow."

"Good call, Captain Obvious," I answer with a roll of my eyes.

"You're all...you're all green." She gestures to encompass the rest of me.

"Can you count too?" I ask. "What are you getting at?"

It takes her a moment to remember. "You're not Gerudo," she says finally. "Even your ears. Your ears...they're...they're all...pointy."

"I'm half-Sheikah," I tell her with a heavy sigh. "Pretty sure we've been over this. My mother was Natalia of the Gerudo. My father is Brayden of the Sheikah."

"Natalia," says Apheri, rolling the word around in her mouth as though trying to taste it. "Natalia. She was...she was our leader."

"Yes," I confirm, her unexpected recollection softening my irritation.

"It's so...hard to remember," she says, squinting her eyes and looking up at the ceiling. "So hard, now. Faces and...and names. I don't...I think I knew her. Sort of. She was...young, right?"

"Yes," I say, cocking my head and watching her closely. "She was. But she was strong. And she lived for her sisters."

"Yes," says Apheri, so quietly I almost don't hear her. "So did...a long time ago, I...I don't remember." She shakes her head and scowls. "I don't remember. The Dark World takes it from me so I won't...so I won't fight anymore, but I..." She shakes her head again and leans forward unexpectedly. I give a start, but she just cups her head in her hands and groans. "I should just give up," she says and she's definitely not talking to me anymore. "It's not worth holding onto. It hurts too much."

"Holding onto what?" I ask. "What are you holding onto?"

She doesn't answer. Just shakes her head and I realize with a violent start and no small amount of alarm that there are drops suddenly appearing on the table underneath her face.

Din's fire.

She's crying.

She's crying!

I immediately shift my chair to cut off the sight of her from the other Gerudo. If they see her like this they'll rip her to shreds. It's a small kindness, but the only one I have the liberty to offer. "Apheri," I say as gently as I can. "Apheri you need to pull it together, okay? You need...you can't let them see you like this." I stare at her desperately, waiting for some sign of acknowledgement. "Apheri, they don't deserve it. Don't give it to them. You're better than that. You're better than them."

She's still for a long moment, but finally she nods. She takes a deep, shaky breath and wipes her face surreptitiously as she straightens. I meet her bleary eyes and try to judge how together she actually has it.

The answer is not encouraging.

"Come on," I say, getting up. "Come back to the tent. Get away from the others. I left Hunter there. We can talk, okay?"

"I don't want to talk," she says. "I want to fight. I want to fight until I die."

"Plenty of time for that tomorrow," I note.

She snorts. "Not going to last long against Nobernal," she mutters, but she gets to her feet and follows me out, pausing only to viciously kick one of the full-wolves who snarls something as we walk by. I'm glad I don't understand the full wolves.

We walk back to the tent in silence, and at a slow pace given Apheri's stumbling. It looks like she's momentarily forgotten how to use her lupine legs. I don't offer to help her – it would only offend her, and I'm not too broken up about the pace. I need the time to think.

Most of the people I've met so far in the Dark World have been angry. I'm angry. Hunter's angry. These Gerudo are angry. Blind's men were angry. Even the followers of the Cleric were angry, in their messed up, repressive way. But I forgot that anger's not the only negative emotion in the Dark World's repertoire. And often it's a symptom of something deeper. Only the tip of the thorn in someone's paw.

Apheri's not angry, she's sad – I misread her from the start and I could kick myself for it now. She uses anger to hide it from the others. She pretends she's like them so they won't realize the truth. That's why she fights the transformation into a wolf, when the others around her embrace it. Becoming a wolf is their way of lashing out at what's happened to them, at their situation. It's a false path of action – lets them feel like they're doing something, let's them feed and indulge their rage, even though it doesn't actually get them anywhere better or improve their situation. They've given up on their old life, on Hyrule, and embraced what the Dark World has to offer. That is simultaneously their shame and their pride. Their damning salvation.

But Apheri...

She won't let go. She clings to what memories she has, clings to her old life, maybe even to the hope that someday things will be set right again and she can go home – that's why she was so upset with me, more upset with me than the others when I was throwing around Rue's name and directions to the nursery and talking about Gerudo life and history and culture. Because she remembers these things more clearly than the others. I brought all those memories back to the surface again, and each one of them was a knife for the Dark World to stab her with.

The Dark World takes her hope – that she'll be able to go home someday, that she can remember what it means to be Gerudo even as the Dark World whittles away at everything that makes her Gerudo – and barbs it and wraps it around her so tightly she's going to bleed to death from it. Every memory she holds hurts her, in the same way my memories of Amplissa and Aliza and the others hurt me. All they do is highlight just how terrible your situation is now – and keep forever present in your mind the things you've lost.

All the Dark World has to offer is false hope. False hope that you can escape the wrath of Hell by joining it, giving into it and embracing it, as most of these women have done. False hope of release if you just hold out against it long enough, as Apheri keeps hoping.

It tricks you into thinking you've escaped it if you give into it, that if you willingly choose it, it no longer holds power over you. As though there's anything resembling a willing choice here.

It tricks you into thinking you're defying it if you hold out and continue to allow it to stab you with your own memories and hopes.

No matter what you do it gets what it wants. No matter what you do it can hurt you, twist you, corrupt you...until you can't remember who you were and you don't understand who you are.

It's already broken most of the Gerudo here.

It's breaking Apheri right in front of me.

I hate this place more than I've ever hated anything in my life. I can't let it have her. She's the only woman here who remembers her sisters back home, the only one who's resisted this long. Seventeen years she's fought this war alone.

My mistake wasn't in thinking Apheri was angry. It wasn't in thinking she was just like the others.

My mistake was in thinking she was Ganondorf's.

She hasn't said anything about him, she hasn't expressed her opinion, but she doesn't have to.

She's not one of Ganon's.

She's one of mine.

And I won't let him or his twisted prison have her.

"I'm not talking to you right now," Hunter informs me bluntly when I enter the tent. It's one of his code phrases for 'I recognize I've upset you but I don't think I actually did anything wrong so I'm not going to apologize but I'd really like this whole thing to be resolved.'

"Good," I tell him, "because I brought you a new best friend to take my place."

He straightens abruptly and turns to look as Apheri stumbles in. He blinks at her in surprise, his ire momentarily forgotten in the novelty of the sight before him. "Is she—?"

"Hammered," I confirm. "Found her at the common hall. She's a bit...I didn't want to leave her there."

"I didn't think Gerudo got drunk," he notes, moving away from the blankets and gesturing for her to have a seat.

"Not usually in front of Sheikah," I respond as she stumbles over there and drops down onto them. "But they can and do get drunk." I give him a dull look. "You know they're people right? Like, with feelings and desires and opinions and stuff?"

He gives me a dry look in return. "You know, it had honestly escaped my notice. Entirely understandable given that it's not like I spend most of a year hanging out with one. And it's certainly not like she openly shares her opinions with everyone in a fifty foot radius."

"You're talking about the girl in the crystal," Apheri slurs at us, apparently more alert than I gave her credit for.

"I am," Hunter answers her, studying her closely. "Link was telling the truth about her. She's about as Gerudo as they come."

"Maybe a little more reckless than most of them," I point out. "She's got a bit of a temper—,"

"A bit," Hunter repeats, and snorts.

"—and we've probably been something of a terrible influence on her overall."

"You're talking too fast," Apheri complains, pressing her hand against her head.

I stare at her blankly for a moment, then shake my head. "What made you think it was a good idea to go out and drink yourself stupid?" I demand. "We have to do the Challenge tomorrow. You having a hangover is going to cost us."

"Do you even know how to shoot a bow?" she demands, irate.

"As a matter of fact, it's something of a specialty," I inform her, offended. "Gerudo trained."

"Right," she says. "You're King. I forgot."

"You believe him?" Hunter demands incredulously.

"No," Apheri responds with a violent shake of her head. "I just...I forgot he thinks he is." She turns back to me. "Who's leader now? You said before...in Ciardi's...in her tent, but I forget."

"Nabooru," I say. "She's also the Sage of Spirit."

"Nabooru," Apheri says, and I can see her struggling to remember. "Nabooru. Nabooru."

"She was my mother's friend, Natalia's friend," I say, jumping on the opportunity to fill in some of the gaps in her dwindling memory. "She took over when my mother left."

"I wasn't there for that," Apheri says. "I only...we heard through the King that Natalia had. She had betrayed us, I think. I think that's what he said."

"Where were you?" Hunter asks, not fully understanding the point behind this exchange, but recognizing it's somehow important.

"I was...getting ready," she said. "With the others. To—to come here. We were the King's chosen. The best of the Elite. We were going...we were going to get the Triforce for him. Help him get it. And then he would be...he wouldn't just be King of the Gerudo. Then he would be King of Everything. And we would be...we would be at his side. Lierana said. She said we would go to Hyrule. We would come back from the Golden Realm with the Triforce and we would go to Hyrule and we would end the war. I remember that. I remember that's what she said." Her face grows distant and far away, blanketed with an indescribable pain. When she finally speaks her voice is quiet and harsh. "She lied. They both did. Lierana and the King."

"Apheri—," I try, but she cuts me off.

"I don't remember what the desert sounds like," she says, and I realize she's crying again. Without sobs, without shaking, just tears. Hunter stiffens and abruptly turns his face away, attempting to respect her privacy in the cramped tent. I doubt she'd notice even if he kept looking. "I don't remember how it smells. I don't remember what the sand looks like when the wind blows it. I don't remember...the Covenant...how can I be...if I can't remember..."

"The Covenant?" Hunter asks and I stare at Apheri in shock.

For her to have forgotten the Covenant...

She blinks and stares at Hunter. "You don't know because you're Sheikah," she says. "You couldn't...tell me..."

"I can," I say immediately and Apheri turns to look at me, struggles to focus on my face.

"You can't," she corrects me. "You're not Gerudo."

"I am Gerudo," I insist. "I am a Son of the Wind. If you've forgotten the story I can tell it to you again. If you've forgotten the Covenant itself you can swear it to me again."

"Son of...," she says, hope flickering briefly in her eyes then dying again, abruptly – snuffed out mercilessly by the Dark World. She laughs, bitterly. "All right," she says, and it's plain she doesn't believe me, "tell me. Speak the Covenant. Tell me the tale. I am most interested to hear your version." I throw an awkward look at Hunter, but Apheri snorts. "Let him stay," she says. "He's as dead as we are tomorrow anyway. It's not like he can tell it to anyone."

"It's blasphemy," I note, raising an eyebrow. Hunter's face takes on a pained expression at the thought that there is a secret in this room right now and he might not be allowed to hear it. You can't tell a Sheikah you have a secret they don't. Doesn't sit well with them.

"If you're truly a Son of the Wind, she'll forgive you," Apheri says with a shrug. "She forgives her Sons everything, and her Daughters nothing. I remember that much."

Maybe so, but...it's probably one of the Gerudo's most sacred rules. If Rue ever found out...

I turn to Hunter and point at him. "Swear on our friendship that you will never breathe a word of any of this to anyone. They can never know you know."

He hesitates. "There are no secrets among Sheikah, Link," he says. "If I'm asked..."

I scowl and cross my arms, but a moment later I snap my fingers and reach into my pouch, digging around trying to find something I haven't pulled out in years. Nabooru gave it to me as a joke, a throwback to our interactions before Zelda sent me back and changed Time.

There may be no secrets among Sheikah...

But there are plenty of loopholes.

I pull out a small piece of paper, crinkled and worn around the edge, and hand it triumphantly to Hunter.

"What's this?" he asks curiously.

"An Honourary Membership to the Gerudo," I answer with a wide grin. "Signed by Nabooru and everything."

Hunter looks at it and laughs. "Why do you have this?" he demands. "You were born to them."

"Long story," I say, waving him off. "Will this let you swear, as an honourary member of the Gerudo, that you will hear this story as a Gerudo, and keep the story as a Gerudo? You won't tell anyone?"

Hunter considers it carefully, weighing what is no doubt a burning desire to obtain this secret piece of Gerudo history against the legal definition of his duties with the Sheikah. At last he nods and pockets the membership. "I swear it on our friendship."

Good enough for me.

I turn back to Apheri. "You want the whole story?" She nods silently to confirm. I throw them both a self-conscious look. "I'm not...the best story-teller. This probably won't be as good as it should be."

"Just tell it," Hunter says.

"Okay." I take a moment to collect my thoughts. I know the story off by heart – like any good Gerudo – but it's only really recited at formal events or special ceremonies. And typically I'm not the one who has to do it. All I have to do is sit there while they all re-swear the Covenant and then tell them I accept their oath. "So. In the Day that was the first, the peoples of Hyrule were born, lived, and died, still new in their skin, and the world still new in hers. These were the People that were the first – the Goron, Zora, and Hylians, though the names were not spoken, simply known in the heart. The Day that was the first was beautiful and safe, but soon Night fell, and the Peoples came to know the evil in their own hearts.

"The Peoples went to war. Not with the wind or the rain, nor with the beasts that shared their soil, as they had in the past, but with each other. Each with his neighbour, and his neighbour with theirs, until the whole of Hyrule burned with the heat of it, and the blood of the people stained the ground for the first time. And Hyrule wept for her lost children and weeps still today."

I risk my concentration to glance up at my audience. Hunter looks intrigued – there's nothing new here yet, but the wording will be different than the Sheikah's version of the early days of the world after the Goddess created it. Apheri has stopped crying. She's staring at me intently, taking in my words and whatever memories they resurrect. I clear my throat and continue.

"Soon, the People began to organize. Each with others like them. Soon they spoke the names in their heart and became the Goron and Zora and Hylians in word. The People learned to fight and to defend themselves. They learned to strike and take what they needed from others. And the wars continued, unabated. And many more were lost in the conflict.

"And then, came a prophet. Her name was Geru. She had lost her village in a battle. The bodies of her family lay like tears on the ground. She wept for them, even as her enemy closed in, and when she looked up and laid eyes on their killers, a fury swept over her, like a sandstorm in the Spirit Wastes. She took up the sword and slew them all and fled, mad, into the desert. And those who had known her said she was lost, for the desert was a place of wild magic and unbridled wind. Of sandstorms, and angry spirits, and ravaging beasts, and was no place for a mad woman on her own, with nothing but a sword.

"Geru knew these things, even lost in her rage. Geru went to the desert to seek her death, for she had no desire to live in the world as it was, and chose to credit no man with her life. Instead she would let the desert take her.

"She walked as long as she could, though the sun bore down on her and burned her skin dark. And when she fell, still she crawled, though the wind tore at her ears, until their fine points were worn away. And when she could no longer crawl, still she dragged herself across the sands, shedding her clothes and her things like a snake sheds its skin, until she could move no more. She lay in the sands, naked and dying, and prayed for the wind to take her life from her at last.

"But the wind did not.

"Instead it spoke. 'Geru,' said the wind, 'why have you come to this place? This is my heart, and no place for mortals.'"

"And Geru knew she spoke to a Goddess. 'Is this Nayru that speaks to me?' she asked. 'Come to say goodbye to Your sad creation?'

"And the wind laughed and said, 'I am not Nayru.'

"And Geru said, 'Farore, then! Come to tell me to be brave in my last moments. To not whimper when death takes me at last.'

"'Neither am I Farore,' said the wind.

"And Geru coughed, for her remaining time was short, and knew with a certainty to whom she spoke. 'Din, then,' she said, 'who gave me the fury to avenge my family and seek my death in the dunes.'

"But still the wind laughed. 'I am none of the Three, nor would I dare to claim I am Their equal in anyway. But I suppose the difference is beyond your mortal ken.'

"'Then to what do I speak?' Geru asked, fear coming upon her that the wind should speak so, and yet not be a Goddesss. 'I would know who keeps me company in my dying moments.'

"'Who else but your killer?' asked the wind. 'For I am this desert, among other things. You lay in my sands, burned by my sun, whittled away by my wind. Why have you sought me out?'

"And Geru grew sore afraid. 'Desert wind!' she cried. 'I sought only death in your embrace! I thought you inanimate sand, and merciless sun! I knew not what you were!'

"'I am those things," the desert wind told her, 'and your presence offends me not, merely tempts my curiosity. Why have you sought your death here?'

"'All that I treasured in life is gone,' Geru explained. 'My husband. My home. My sons. They are dead. Slain by another, who was, in turn, slain by me. What have I left to live for?'

"'An interesting question,' said the desert wind, blowing now across her face, cooling her burning brow. 'But it does not answer mine. Have you truly come here to die? Or have you simply come here because where you were could offer you no reason to live? No purpose to dedicate your life to?'

"And Geru pondered the question. She had come to die, of that she was certain. Less certain was she of that resolve now that she was close to achieving it. What the desert wind suggested rang true. Better to have a reason to live, than to die for its lack. 'Could you give me such a purpose?' she asked.

"'I could,' the wind answered. 'But like all things, it comes at a price.'

"'I will pay it,' said Geru, her decision made. 'If I am able.'

"'You have already surrendered the trinkets of your past life. Your fine clothes and pale skin and pointed ears. You are Hylian no longer. It is this, and only this, that has allowed you to hear me. What have you left to give?'

"'Name something else,' Geru begged. 'Any price. Only name it and it is yours.'

"'Then I wish two things,' said the wind. 'If you give me the first, and prove me the second, I will give you a purpose.'

"'Name them!' cried Geru.

"'The first is a sacrifice. I wish for your sons.'

"And Geru was confused. 'My sons are dead,' she said mournfully. 'I cannot give them to you.'

"'Not those that have come and gone again,' said the wind, 'but those yet to come. You and your descendents shall bear no sons from now until the sea swallows the earth. In exchange, I will name you my daughter, and give you my sons. Once in a wind's age I will send you a son, and him you will raise as your own and teach him to fight and survive and you will call him King. To him and no other will you bow, and I will take this as a sign that our Covenant is honoured.'"

"'Done,' said Geru.

"'The second, then, is a test,' said the wind. 'To prove you are strong. To prove you are brave. To prove you are wise. If you are none of these things, then the Covenant cannot be sworn, for you could not carry out your purpose.'

"'Test me!' cried Geru, though she could barely move. 'I shall pass!'

"'Then stand, Seeker of the Desert. Seeker of the Wind! Stand though my sun would burn you, my sand cut your flesh. Stand and face the desert. Stand and bridle the wind!'

"And Geru drove all thoughts of her home from her mind. And Geru drove all thoughts of her family from her mind. And Geru drove all thoughts of pain and despair and hunger from her mind.

"And Geru stood.

"And the sun beat down on her, and burned her skin darker yet. It set her hair on fire and left it embers. And her legs shook, and the heat scorched her, but still the sun could not make her fall.

"And the wind whipped the sand into knives and hurled them against her naked flesh. It lashed and cut her until she bled and the thirsty land drank eagerly where the red drops fell. But still the wind could not make her fall.

"And Geru faced the desert and screamed her defiance at it, and her respect. And with that scream she let go of everything she had been, and embraced everything she was, and at last was able to bridle the wind. And the Desert wind wept with joy for it had been waiting for someone worthy.

"'My purpose!' Geru cried. 'Strike the covenant oh desert wind, oh Goddess in the Sand! Tell me my purpose and you can have my sons from now until the sea swallows the earth!'

"'Your purpose,' said the bridled wind, 'is to take these lands and tame them. Claim them. They stand as a guardian before Hyrule, and once they are yours, so too will you. Until the seas claim the earth, you will stand here, in these sands, and keep all interlopers out.'

"'It is a grand purpose,' said Geru, satisfied. 'But I cannot on my own.'

"'Then find others,' the wind told her. 'If they swear the Covenant, if they abandon who they were, and give me their sons, and stand though the desert seeks to fell them, I will take their oaths. My sons will take their oaths. And they will be my children as you are.'

"And Geru rode the wind through Hyrule, and she found others who sought what she had, strong enough to seek the sands, wise enough to leave themselves behind, and brave enough to swear the Covenant. And so the Geru'do – the Sisters of Geru – were born and remain, to this day. And please," I add abruptly when Apheri opens her mouth to speak, "don't ask me how I know the Covenant. I already told you how I know the Covenant. And you," I say, pointing at Hunter, whose eyes are bright with the illicit knowledge, "swore on our friendship you wouldn't share the story. Don't forget."

"Oh my Goddess," he says, practically breathless with excitement. "The Gerudo origin myth! We'd always wondered—."

"It's not a myth," Apheri says suddenly, savagely, and Hunter blinks in surprise. "If it were, how is it we bear no sons? How is it once every hundred years a King is born to lead us?"

"I didn't mean to suggest it wasn't true," Hunter says carefully, nodding his head apologetically. "And it definitely does explain some of the more unique features of your race." He turns to me. "Is the Goddess in the Sand the woman in those statues? The ones at the Spirit Temple?"

"No," I say, shaking my head. "That's Geru. She's sort of...her image is used in place of the Goddess in the Sands, because the Goddess has no image to speak of. She is the desert. The sun, the wind, even the rainy season."

He nods thoughtfully and peers over at Apheri, as though seeing her for the first time. If I know him he's going to mull over this story for the next month and try to figure out how it plays into the identity of the Gerudo. He'll find plenty of connections.

The Covenant between Geru and the desert literally defines what the Gerudo are. That was just the origin story, but there are other stories about Geru, there are sermons and lectures and massive debates about the meaning of all of them, and how they should be interpreted. It's the closest thing to organized religion the Gerudo have, and they take it very seriously.

I suspect, on many levels, that it's a big part of the reason why so many Gerudo followed me so willingly after I passed the Maeasm test. By that point they already felt Ganondorf had not been keeping up his end of the Covenant as a Son of the Wind. He had ordered the Gerudo to attack Hyrule, when under the terms of the Covenant they were to protect it from outside interlopers – not become its enemy, or get embroiled in internal affairs. He had lived his hundred years and stretched them out unnaturally, stealing more time than was his. He had abused the Gerudo people, as individuals and as a race, and they could do nothing to defend themselves, because whether he held up his end of the Covenant or not, they intended to hold up theirs, and that meant they had to call him King and bow to him and no other.

No other until I let myself get stung by a maeasm and survived.

It wasn't even about me.

All I was, was a convenient excuse for them to drop a King they hated like a hot rock, without violating the Covenant. They probably figured I'd be easily controlled, too.

Silly Gerudo.

Speaking of silly Gerudo, Apheri is staring at me like I've grown two heads. "That was," she says very slowly, "accurate, though I don't...trust...my memory."

I give her a look that is gentle in its own way. "Should I recap all the things I shouldn't know but do, now?" I ask her. "Or is Geru's story enough to convince you that I'm telling the truth?"

She stares at me for a long time, her eyes moving over all the very-not-Gerudo pieces of me, until at last they come to settle on my eyes. She meets my gaze without challenge or denial and explores it. I recognize the gesture. Other Gerudo have done this to me, too. I don't know what they're looking for, but they always seem to find it.

I cross my metaphorical fingers and pray that Apheri is no different.

"Speak the Covenant," she says at last, her voice hoarse. "Speak the Covenant and I will swear it again. If you are not...if you are not what you say then the Goddess will strike me down for bowing to any but a Son of the Wind."

"Seeker of the Desert," I say with more gravity and seriousness than I can usually muster for anything, "Will you swear your life to me, the Son of the Wind?"

She hesitates, but only for a moment. "I will."

"Seeker of the Wind, will you swear your spirit to me, the Son of the Wind?"

"I will," she says again, firmer this time.

"Seeker of the Sands, will you swear your sons to me, the Son of the Wind?"

"I will."

"Seeker of the Sun, will you stand forever guard over these lands, and bow to none but me, the Son of the Wind?"

"I will," she says again, and I can't help it. Despite the seriousness of these ceremony, I grin broadly at her.

"Then I accept your oaths on behalf of the Goddess in the Sands. As the Son of the Wind, I name you Geru'do. Now bow, and seal the Covenant."

Apheri climbs unsteadily to her feet – I gesture surreptitiously at Hunter when he moves as though to help her. He can't help her with this. Every Gerudo has to stand under her own power, that's part of it.

Mind you, most of them don't get drunk until after the ceremony.

Hunter watches, fascinated, as Apheri stands at last and meets my eyes again, then slowly, deeply, she bows. She remains down for a good thirty seconds before I find myself grinning again.

"You're still standing, "I note. "No one struck you down yet."

"I don't understand," she says, straightening and looking genuinely perplexed. "You are...you must be...but you..."

"I'm Gerudo King," I tell her insistently. "I am. My mother was forced to flee the Fortress before I was even born – technically she was kidnapped – and she was murdered by an agent of Ganon when I was only three. The Kokiri of the Lost Woods took me in, and a Sheikah posing as a Hylian raised me after that. Ganon wanted me dead, you see? I couldn't go back to the Fortress. I didn't even know I was Gerudo until I was seventeen. That's when I went back. It was the first time I'd been there in this timeline. That's why I'm not very Gerudo on the surface. I wasn't raised by the Gerudo. I was raised by everything but."

"Then," said Apheri, dropping back to a seated position, "we failed in our duty. Geru swore that we would raise the Sons of the Wind."

"No," I correct her, "Ganon failed in his duty. Ganon violated the Covenant. It was Ganon's fault my mother had to leave, and his fault she died before she could raise me. It was his fault she couldn't take me back to the Fortress."

Apheri squeezes her eyes shut and shakes her head. "This is...a lot to take in... If you are the King..."

"I am," I say. "I am the King."

"You...are the King," she says, and it's not a question this time. "I...see that now. But I..." She trails off and I feel a sudden stab of sympathy for her. The Gerudo back home had had weeks to figure out amongst themselves what my existence meant in terms of their laws and lives. Weeks to adjust to the idea that there could be two Kings, and that one of them could actually, finally be openly considered a traitor to his own people. And they had had each other to help work it through.

Apheri has no one.

And she's got the rest of today and tonight to figure it out.

"Listen," I say, "you need to think this through. Hunter and I have some business back at the common hall, anyway. You stay here and get yourself sorted out, all right? We'll be back before sun down." She nods without really looking at me, still lost in her own world.

"What business do we have in the common hall?" Hunter demands as we leave the tent.

"What business do we ever have in a common hall?" I ask, and no matter how hard I try to stamp it down, something of the Beast stirs in my smile. It hasn't left me alone since I went in there. It wants to go back, and as loathe as I am to give it anything it wants, I think for once it's actually right. "We're going to go raise some Hell."

xxx

A Brief Interlude

"Hell," Brayden said under his breath. It felt good so he said it again. "Hell. Hell and damnation!"

Moblins.

Moblins who were mages.

Moblins who were mages in Hyrule Castletown.

And there were more of them.

He squeezed his eyes shut and tried desperately not to think of Kakariko. The Gerudo would be...they might be okay. They wouldn't be expecting it, but the Gerudo were ever prepared for anything, and they were nestled snug in their Fortress in the desert. That was their place of power. Nothing could touch them there.

He chose to believe that because the alternative wasn't funny.

But Kakariko...

There were so many civilians...

Impa will know, he told himself, taking a deep breath. She'd have to. She's the Sage of Shadow. Cheap cloaks don't work on her.

But Impa should have checked in with him already hours ago, and she hadn't.

Impa was never late.

Never.

"Everything's fine," he growled at himself. "They're fine. We're the ones in trouble. We're the ones who need help."

"Yeah, but not the only ones," said a soft voice from his side.

Brayden sighed and turned around. "Girls, I already told you no, all right? I want to warn them too. Desperately. But I can't. Look around. I can't afford to give up the few fighters I've got who know what they're doing."

The twins did as he asked and their faces were grim. All around them people sat or lay on the dirty ground, clutching wounds and wounded. Peasants and merchants and servants. They'd done a tally earlier of who was left who had any kind of actual martial training. The numbers had not been good. The moblins had picked off the fighters first in the battle in the market.

"We can't just let them do the same thing in Kakariko," Mel said, and looked dangerously close to crying for a moment. "Dad's there. Dune's there."

"It's out of our hands," Brayden said gently. "We'll just have to have faith that Dune and your father know what they're doing, all right? Every Sheikah in Hyrule is stationed in Kakariko right now, and the Gorons are with them. They can protect themselves. How's the boy doing?" he asked before they could respond, hoping to distract them.

"Better," said Bel. "We didn't have enough potion left after treating the most seriously injured to get him back up to full speed, but he's not so blue anymore, and his fever's finally broke. He's still a little nauseaus, but I think he'll be okay in a day or two." Her face fell. "Assuming he doesn't die because he's away from the Lost Woods."

"He's a tough kid," said Brayden, and offered them a tired smile. "We're talking about the boy who bullied Link, remember? Link's not exactly easy to bully."

He was surprised by how much talking about Link – even as offhandedly as that – still drained him. The only good thing about the mess he was in was that it took all his energy just staying afloat and keeping everyone around him from drowning. No time left over to think about Link and the others and worry about where they were or if they'd be coming back.

"I don't want him to die," said Mel. "He left to come warn us. He came here to save us. He's just a kid."

"We'll get him home," Brayden assured her, doing his best to hide the fact that he was pretty sure he was lying. "He won't die." He waited until they looked at him and nodded to acknowledge what he'd said. "Good. Now, can you go get Renaud? I need to talk to him."

They nodded again and turned to weave their way back through the ragged remains of Eldrick's supporters. Brayden watched them go and exhaled slowly.

He hated leadership positions. Hated them with a passion. He wasn't cut out for it.

It was taking everything he had to keep his temper in check and his rapidly flagging confidence from crashing through the ground and taking him with it. Negative thoughts circled around in his head, waiting for a weak moment like now, when he was alone and didn't have to pretend that he knew what he was doing.

Bruiser, he thought desperately, damn you for dying. I need you.

Castletown had been Bruiser's assignment. Castletown had been what Bruiser was good at. Most Sheikah would have slipped into the castle guard, or posed as a noble's servant, or otherwise stayed near the upper echelons of Hylian nobility. Most people believed that that's where the most good could be done, that that's where the most danger lay. They believed that the shakers and movers were there.

And they weren't wrong.

But Bruiser had always done things his own way and anyone who wanted to tell him to do it differently could go to Hell. He'd opened his archery shop, no matter how many people told him it was a useless cover, and proceeded to make friends with every other merchant in the market. And then with their employees. And then with his customers and theirs. And before anyone could blink, Bruiser – great, hairy, blunt brute that he was – suddenly had the meathooks he called hands on the pulse of everything that was happening in Hyrule. The tailor across the street worked for no less than three of the major noble houses in Hyrule and was an incorrigible gossip. The guards paid for by the nobles often stopped in at the Archery Shop and talked to Bruiser about how much they hated their jobs and their employers and their shifts. The nobles themselves would come down to the market to browse and be seen by the common folk.

The market, not the Golden Palace, was the heart of Castletown. It was the nexus for all the people who lived there. It was the only place in the city where everyone, regardless of station, was not only welcome, but required to come. Bruiser could not have picked a better spot.

Bruiser was the best Sheikah to ever cover Castletown. He knew more about what was happening in the city than any other Sheikah before him had. He'd spent years building up his networks and working his magic behind the scenes to keep things humming and peaceful. He was a master at it. A word here, a rumour there, and things stayed nice and normal.

And Brayden had done nothing since he'd died but screw it all up.

Sorry big guy, he thought mournfully to himself. Guess that's why you were always dad's favourite.

"You sent for me?"

Brayden blinked and looked up. He hadn't even noticed Renaud approaching. "Sorry," he said quickly, forcing his brain back onto a useful track. "Lost in thought. I did, yes. How's Eldrick?"

Renaud threw a casual look over his shoulder to the back corner of the room where the younger Eldrick sat with his knees pulled up to his chest and his face buried in them. He looked smaller and more vulnerable than Brayden ever thought he'd see him. Not like a noble at all. Just a boy who'd lost his father before he was ready. "I'm not sure what you're expecting," Renaud said. "It's only been a day since his father died. These things take time to heal."

"Time we don't have," Brayden noted as gently as he could. "For better or worse the Eldricks' positioned themselves as the only thing standing between Hyrule and Aghanim's followers. If we're going to actually accomplish anything here—."

"Just what is it you think we can accomplish?" Renaud demanded, interrupting him. "We have a handful of battered fighters, a group of frightened civilians, and a single frost bitten Kokiri. Our enemy is an established group of nobles with a standing army of spell-casting moblins at their beck and call. Brayden...be realistic, man."

"Would you have us abandon Castletown?" Brayden answered him angrily. "Seriously? Just give up and surrender the centre of Hyrule? Do you have any idea what would happen if we did that?"

"We might survive to fight another day?" Renaud suggested dryly.

Brayden scowled darkly at him. "Wow," he said, unable to keep the acid from his voice. "Been away from the Caverns too long, I see. First and foremost, if we lose Castletown—"

"We've lost Castletown," Renaud insisted.

And that was it.

For twenty-four hours Brayden had kept his temper. He'd listened to Bel and Mel fight with Renaud over whether to send a messenger to Kakariko about the Moblins. He'd stared around the room at the helpless, hopeless expressions on the people there. He'd watched Renaud all but ignore Eldrick, no matter how much the young man might need him, or how much Brayden might need the young man, because Renaud was grieving too and wasn't an active Sheikah anymore and no longer had to put the needs of the many above his own. No longer had to care about Hyrule and what happened to it. No longer had to do anything what whatever he wanted because he had chosen to step out of the line of duty.

But Brayden didn't have that luxury.

Brayden couldn't care about his own needs. Brayden couldn't care about his son and his nephew and his adopted daughter, because Brayden was a Sheikah and had to care about Hyrule.

He didn't have the option of grieving.

He had a Goddess-damned job to do and he was going to Goddess-damned-well do it.

He stared at Renaud for a stunned moment, and finally, at long last, he snapped. He jumped to his feet and clenched his fists. "We've lost nothing but one battle!" he bellowed, and as easily as that his temper was loose. "It doesn't matter if we can't take it back right now! We need to hold it! We need to make it cost them! If we hand Castletown to them on a Goddess-damned platter, we hand them Hyrule with it! First and foremost," he started again, oblivious to the stunned looks of the people around him, "Castletown is a symbol for everything Hyrule is! It's the political centre, the power centre, the cultural centre, the trade centre for the Kingdom as a whole! If we lose it the blow to morale at all the other points in Hyrule where people are fighting to keep it safe from the outside would be incalculable! Secondly, and more practically, we can't let the Moblins get a foothold on the inside of our borders! Let them throw themselves at the Gerudo in the desert, and Zora at Lake Hylia, and the Sheikah and Gorons in the mountains! Let them! They won't break those lines! Not unless we give up here and let them establish a foothold in Castletown to attack our allies from behind! Is that what you want? You want to just hand them over to the moblins?" His nostrils flared and he clenched and unclenched his fists. "Then you can go to Hell because I'll die first! I'll hold this city by myself if I have to!"

Renaud had gone pale, staring at him in shock. Brayden simply stood where he was, jaw clenched, chest heaving, head pounding.

He hadn't meant to lose his temper.

Hadn't wanted to lose his temper.

But Farore that had felt good.

"Lord Eldrick," he said abruptly, turning to the boy who had finally looked up from his knees at the outburst. His face was haggard, his eyes swollen and red, but something stirred in them, some piece of the certainty and arrogance that came with knowing you had been born to lead. "Your father started this fight. Someone. Has. To finish it." Some of his anger bled from him and he felt older than he had in some time. "Please. We can't lose Castletown. We can't just give it to them for free."

There was a collective holding of breath as all those gathered in the dingy stone sewers stared at the young Lord Eldrick – waiting to see what he'd say. Waiting to see what he'd do. Only eighteen, Brayden realized. Only eighteen. Barely older than Neesha. When are we going to stop putting the weight of our world on our children?

Eldrick sensed their stares, saw their stares. He looked around, blinking, as though he'd just woken up. Slowly, painfully slowly, that little piece of arrogance behind his eyes began to crystallize, began to harden and become stone. Renaud watched him, face hard and unforgiving, but expectant.

The Lord Dorian of the House of Eldrick, now Head of the House of Eldrick, pushed himself slowly to his feet against the cold stone wall at his back. "Give me a sword," he said hoarsely. "If they want Castletown they'll pay for it first."

Brayden released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding as a ragged, almost pathetic cheer went up from those gathered, earnest for all its lack of strength.

Gold plated, he thought gratefully, thinking of the Eldricks' ostentatious gate, but steel underneath. He blinked as someone pulled on one of the bandages wrapped around his arm. He looked down and met the incredibly serious – and just a little frightened – looking face of a perpetually-eleven-year-old boy.

"Sir," said Mido of the Lost Woods, "I want to help, sir."

"Want to...," repeated Brayden stunned. He dropped to his knees as Eldrick began to address the crowd, allowing himself a better view of the boy's face. "What do you mean?"

"The Deku Tree Sprout, sir. He said...he said I had to extend my protection from the Lost Woods to all of Hyrule. He said that you guys have always protected us and now we had to pay you back. He said that. He told me that. I want to help."

"Mido—"

"Let me take your message," he insisted before Brayden could speak. "It's my mission anyway. It's my message. I know who the generals are. I know who the sages are. I can tell them. It was my mission."

"It's...very generous of you," said Brayden gently, "but it's a very long trip, and it's a hard winter. It'll be dangerous, and you're very, very young still. I can't...I couldn't send a child..."

"Sometimes little things make a big difference," said Mido stubbornly. "The Deku Tree Sprout told me that too."

Brayden stared at him for a long moment, then looked up at Renaud, who frowned thoughtfully. "If we find him a good coat and boots...maybe a pony or a mule...Brayden, it's safer on the roads right now, even in the dead of winter, than it is here in Castletown. And we can't get him home, but maybe someone in Kakariko can."

Brayden turned back to Mido who gave him the biggest set of puppy-dog eyes he'd ever seen his life.

"All right," he said at last, and prayed to all three Goddesses that he wasn't getting the kid killed. "All right. Let's go find you a kit."

Mido nodded and kept his Kokiri Knight face on, but on the inside he was suddenly shaking.

He wondered, silently, if he'd ever see the Lost Woods again...

xxx

Hell had opened up and swallowed Gerudo Fortress.

At least, that's how it seemed to Thomas as he leapt at a Moblin that wandered too close to Rue and the old man. He had blood in his eyes from a deep gash on his brow, he was heavily favouring his left side after a vicious kick he hadn't been fast enough to dodge had nearly shattered his hip. But he readied his sword and lunged.

"Lose your concentration now, boy," Rue snapped as he ducked a swing from the Moblin and stabbed upward, "and I will kill you myself."

The Moblin went down with a porcine cry and Thomas returned to his place in the triangle formed by the Gerudo, the Sage and himself. "I'll let the moblins have you next time, then," he snapped. The effort of maintaining his concentration and his upright position left nothing over to maintain his temper. He was in pain, he was terrified, and he wanted to go home. He'd given up on hiding the first two, but he refused to let the Gerudo see the third.

"Please don't," Sahasrahla said in a strained voice. His eyes were closed as he focussed on weaving the magic in and around the Gerudo fighters below. "It will take all three of us to keep this up."

"Aren't there supposed to be guards at the base of the ladder?" Thomas demanded, shoulders falling as yet another moblins poked its ugly head up over the side. He tore a throwing knife from a hidden sheathe and hurled it at the beast in a single, fluid motion. It screamed and toppled back over the side, knife protruding from its eye.

"They're dead," said Rue, and her voice was flat and stony. "Or else we would not be attempting to maintain a spell and fight off the Moblins."

Thomas said nothing. Just shook his head and tried to focus on holding various forms of energy for the two mages, assisting them in their weaving.

It wasn't easy.

The Fortress was on fire. The Moblins had shattered the gates in the moment between Sahasrahla's shield going down and the alarm going up. They spilled in – fresh and unbloodied, obviously reinforcements from beyond the portal – and decimated the first wave of tired, wounded Gerudo who met them.

The Gerudo had no reinforcements to call, no backup to rely on. But the sight of the enemy flooding through their gate and into their Fortress had sparked something unexpected in them – something primal and frightening, and Thomas had suddenly understood why the Sheikah had never managed to take the Fortress during the Great War. Rue had all but dragged him and Sahasrahla up to the top of a tower and barked orders at them. Whatever the two mages were weaving was complex, intricate magic, meant, Thomas was pretty sure, to bolster the spirit of the fighting Gerudo, to augment whatever in them reacted so strongly to the sight of the Moblins in their ancient home.

Somewhere below them Thomas could hear Nabooru screaming over the battle.

"They breached the east wing!" someone directly below called. "They're in the dungeons!"

"Explosives!" Nabooru shrieked from wherever she was. Rue had mentioned something before about Nabooru getting drunk on the spirit of her sisters, but she was practically rabid with it now. Her shouts were frenzied and furious, enraged past physical endurance. Thomas had caught a brief glimpse of her earlier, and she had looked like a demon, blood covered and snarling. "Bring it down on their Goddess-damned heads! Don't let them get any further!"

"They're attacking the west!"

"Elite! Get in there and drive them out! Reds, bring the damned dungeons down already! And I swear to the Goddess herself if somebody doesn't get those damned moblins away from the mages heads are going to roll!"

"Pay attention," Rue snapped and Thomas forced himself to try to drown it all out. There was the sound of another porcine cry as someone shot a moblin off the ladder.

"They're going to blow up their own Fortress," he said.

"It is not a critical wing," Rue said clinically. "The moblins cannot be allowed to penetrate the inner Fortress, and we do not have the strength we need to fight them at both ends of it. It is the right choice." As though on cue, the sound of explosions ripped through the night, and a huge ball of fire erupted from the east wing of the Fortress. A cheer went up from the Gerudo below as they watched a section of their home crumble and burn.

"Nothing that is external to the Gerudo matters to them," Sahasrahla attempted to explain, noting his baffled expression. "The Fortress is a building, made of mud and stone. Nothing more. They don't need it. All they need they have."

"Would you not," Rue asked grimly, "bring the Caverns down around the Moblins ears, if you r choice was between doing so, or letting them have it?"

"I...don't know," Thomas said. "The Caverns are...I mean, the Quisrol is there. All our...our history. Our traditions. They're all there. If we destroyed it..."

"We are our history," Rue said, lifting her head proudly despite how tired she looked. "It is carved into our skin by the sands, engraved on our hearts by the Wind. It cannot be taken away from us."

"The moblins will never get into the Caverns," he said. "We wouldn't let them."

"Aye," said Rue grimly. "And we would never let them into the Fortress. But in the Fortress they are."

Thomas turned his eyes to the burning dungeons and wiped the blood out of his eyes.

He only just managed to keep himself from saying out loud that he wanted to go home.

xxx

The Sage of Fire was worried – more than he'd let on to the generals. They had enough on their plates and didn't need to be panicking about this on top of everything else. At least not until he was sure it had become something to worry about.

It wasn't that he doubted Impa's power...she was the Sage of Shadow. Her dominance in the dark was unquestioned. But that was what was so concerning. She had been gone for hours – many hours – when she had indicated perhaps two at most. What could possibly have delayed her? The shadows could no more harm Impa, than Darunia could be burnt. Suppose, then, there had been something else in the dark. Something that was not bound by the ancient magic that ran in the veins of the Sages...

The darkness pressed in around him, cold and unfriendly. Sage he might be, it seemed to be saying, but an uninvited one. One of fire and light and life. Anathema. Antonym. Abberation.

Welcome in the dark places no longer.

His race, like all races, had stories about how they began; where they came from. The Gorons had once belonged to this darkness – the absolute pitch that could only be found buried in the earth, in ancient tunnels and caves that have never known light. But Goron – he for whom their race was named – had brought his people fire, and with it light and heat, and the gorons as a whole forsook the dark. Left it behind for the glow of lava, or the flickering of torches, or the joy of the sun on your back as you worked.

They never looked back.

Darunia had always assumed it was because they didn't want to, but now he began to wonder if the dark didn't want them back either. Perhaps it had not forgiven them for leaving. Perhaps it was offended he – not only one of the traitor race, but descended from the Flame Warden, and a Flame Warden himself – had dared to return. Had dared to sully its purity with his presence.

He paused in the cold stone hall, his hand still resting on the wall, and spoke. "I seek the Sage of Shadow," he said, and a bead of sweat ran down his cheek. "She has been gone too long and must return."

Again he thought about conjuring a light for himself. Not because he needed his sight – it was slow going, certainly, but he could make his way well enough; his people could perhaps no longer see in the dark, but he could feel the stone around himself and it spoke to him as it always did. Rather, he wanted the fire for the same reason the first gorons did. For the comfort of the warmth and the light. For the safety it promised. Because he was surrounded by the dark that all mortals, deep in their hearts, fear – irrational and undeniable.

But darkness was an element as much as fire, and worthy of respect. To summon a light here, this deep in the earth, would be to defile the purity of the dark. And he risked provoking whatever power still lurked therein. He would not, as a Sage, do so.

"I...recognize I am unwelcome," he said aloud, and the stone – the blessed, friendly stone – echoed his own voice back at him. "But if she is in danger, it will take a mortal to pull her from here, to rescue her. Powerful you are, but you can't save her."

But the dark, if it could hear, remained as cold and unforgiving as before.

Darunia stood where he was for some time and debated his options. If Impa were capable of hearing him – and his voice was not small – she would have found him by now, and likely flayed him for intruding on her sanctum. That he remained in possession of his skin caused his brow to draw down and his forehead to crease. His worry tripled.

He had been right. Something had gone wrong.

He closed his eyes and pressed his hand tighter against the rough stone wall, clenching his free hand into a fist against his chest. If the dark won't listen, he thought, perhaps the stone will.

Darkness may have been an element, to be respected and revered, but silence was not. The Big Brother of the Gorons, Sage of Fire, bowed his head, and raised his voice in song – an ancient plea to the stone around him, to the mountain that held him, like a mother, in her heart. The stone had always sheltered his people, had nurtured them, some legends even said it had borne them. It was the stone that had led Goron the Flame Warden to fire, and the stone that had led him home again. It was the stone that guarded his people now, so far from home, in caverns that were not their own.

Please, he begged it as he sang. Please...help me...

And as his song finished and the last notes faded from even the echo, he heard it – a low moan, almost blending in with his final note, but far too small a voice for a goron. "Impa!" he gasped and started forward once more, letting the stone guide his steps.

He almost tripped over her. "Impa!" he said again, dropping to his knees and reaching out for the soft flesh he'd felt, fumbling to find her face. "Impa, speak to me!"

It was definitely her. Short, closely cropped hair, long pointed ears, it could be no other. Not here. But her skin was clammy and as chill as the air around him, and at his touch a tremor ran through her body and she groaned again. He touched her gently, seeking injuries – the stickiness of blood, or a bone at an odd angle – but there was nothing. She lay as though she had fallen asleep.

He had to get her out of here; back to the Sheikan Caverns where they could determine what had happened to her, and what they could do to help.

He picked her up, cradling her in his arms as he would a child, and turned back the way he had come, following the path of his people, on toward the light.

The darkness let him go.

xxx

Nobernal paced back and forth in the shadows of the tent, unseen by its occupants. Ciardi told her not to do that. Ciardi told her that she should never hide herself, that only a coward hid, that she should walk openly and let people fear her if they would.

Ciardi said if they fear you, they respect you.

Ciardi was probably right. But right now, Nobernal did not wish to be seen. Nobernal did not wish to watch the Gerudo scurry to get away from her, to leave her alone and adrift while they huddled and stared and stared and stared. They always stared. She couldn't stand it. Not always. The staring made her itch. And it made all the people in her itch too and then they got angry and she couldn't think anymore. And then she got upset and did things and could never remember what they were but Ciardi always told her it was okay so it was.

When you die, she always told the Gerudo silently, I will take your eyes from you. I will put them where mine used to be. And then you will be in me too and you will have to itch with me and I can stare back and make them all sorry. She always said these things silently, except when she forgot and said it out loud. And then they would just stare more and she would have to go and scratch until she bled.

But now they couldn't see her because she was hiding and Ciardi wasn't here anyway so it was okay. Ciardi was asleep. Ciardi had told her she should sleep too, because the Hero was just a man, but he was still a dangerous man and he had killed one of her sisters already so they would have to be careful but Nobernal didn't believe that because her sisters couldn't die so he couldn't have killed Sirana because Sirana was so big and beautiful and her sister so she couldn't die no matter what.

And then Nobernal was crying, even though she had no eyes anymore, because she had felt Sirana die, she had felt a monster tear her sister apart, and that monster was in front of her now and she could see him but she couldn't kill him because Ciardi had said no.

He was drunk, and most of the Gerudo were drunk too, and they were playing stupid mortal games. Like arm wrestling, and who can drink more, and brawling like pigs in the dirt. And then she kind of remembered what pigs looked like – just a little bit, they were kind of pink – but then she didn't anymore and she thought it was funny because she had never actually seen a pig before which meant the picture was from one of the people inside her.

The monster's friend sat not far from her, looking bored and angry and irritated all at the same time. He was not drunk. He mostly watched the Gerudo and every now and then one of them would do something and he would look interested for a minute and he would study them, and then he would go back to just being bored. Sometimes he looked out the window at the sky and try to guess where the sun was behind the clouds. If he could have seen Nobernal he could have asked her because she knew the sun was low and getting lower and soon his friend would turn into a monster on the outside too.

They would leave soon – the monster and his friend. They would leave and she would have to let them go because Ciardi said she couldn't kill him because there was a Blood Challenge but she wasn't Gerudo she was a Sentinel, she didn't have to listen to the rules, but she didn't want Ciardi to get mad at her but she wanted to kill him so bad, sometimes she felt like she had to kill him, because she could still feel a monster tearing apart Sirana and she was afraid because she didn't want to feel that anymore and Sirana had been strong and powerful and better at everything than Nobernal.

And it was so hard...the monster had a piece of the Golden Power and she wasn't supposed to kill anyone who had a piece of it, but he had killed Sirana and he was going to kill her and she was afraid to die because then what would happen to all the people inside her and besides she couldn't die anyway because she was a Sentinel and they had fought in a hundred thousand wars and never died because they couldn't.

One of the Gerudo said something Nobernal hadn't paid enough attention to and pointed at the monster's sword. Nobernal hissed and tensed, like a startled cat, eyes alert and trained on the monster's hand as he pointed at his own sword, as though to confirm what he had been asked. He pulled it from its sheathe in a wave of blue fire and Nobernal bit her own tongue until it bled to keep from shrieking and turned away and fell to her hands and knees and scrambled across the floor, desperate to get away.

It didn't matter, she couldn't hide, she couldn't close her eyes anymore. She didn't have any eyes to close. The shadows in the tent danced in the light from the blue fire, the sacred flames that burned away at her insides even now. It hurt to be near it, it hurt to see it, and she could see it, not in the non-seeing way she saw everything else. This was like a bright blue band across her vision and in that light she could see other things. She could see her eyes, her real eyes, bloody and damaged as she tore them out, unable to look at herself anymore, unable to stand the sight. She could see the cages Ganondorf had trapped her in, closed and dark and lonely, for eons, for days, for centuries. Cold iron and hard chains and vile magic, vile, vile magic that crawled into her skull and twisted and writhed and bit at everything and stayed there and wouldn't come out and no matter how much she scratched and struck they wouldn't come out.

You were pure once, whispered the fire and she couldn't see anything anymore but sapphire flames. The voice sliced through her brain and sent the dark things therein scurrying and itching and biting and she whimpered and curled in on herself. Nobernal the Pure. Nobernal the Innocent! Look what he's done to you!

"No," she whimpered, almost sobbed, unable to remember that she was supposed to be hiding. "I don't want to look, I don't want to see. I don't want to!"

Look! Look! the fire insisted, as though by looking she could undo it all. As though by seeing what she had become, she could un-become it. She could not, she knew that. She knew that like she knew the monster held a piece of the Golden Power, like she knew the swamp and the mountains that hemmed them in.

"Stop," she begged. "Please. You're killing me!"

And the fire was sad as the monster began to put his sword away again. You're already dead, it whispered to her as the sword slide into its sheath. You were murdered long ago...you just can't see it...

And then the Sword of Evil's Bane was sheathed once again and the dark things in her head all went skittering back to their usual places and stopped biting at her and she stopped biting her tongue and digging her nails into her arms and let herself uncurl from her tight ball.

She lay on the floor of the common tent, still invisible to all those around her, always invisible to all those around her, until long after the monster and his friend returned to their tent, and even the Gerudo had finally retreated for the night. She lay there on the ground until the sun rose the next morning, still hidden behind the clouds.

A thought formed, as she stared up through a gap in the tent at the brightening sky, but only half. Born of fatigue and fear and pain, a childish thought, seeking comfort and protection. I miss Andu—

But she got no further. The dark skittering things in her skull bit her viciously, showing her once again Ganon's cages and chains, the deep, unfriendly dark, the price of failure, of betrayal. Reminded her cruelly, twisting the barbs of memory and old scars earned for questioning the Master's Will.

She couldn't do it again. Could barely remember why she had done it in the first place.

Easier to break the ancient oaths and slay a bearer of the Golden Power than defy the Master's Will.

The dark things in her skull skittered and soothed their own bites. Reminded her of the feeling of the monster tearing apart Sirana, beautiful Sirana. The feeling of her sister dying, torn apart by claws and teeth and magic and broken oaths. Whatever they had done to Anduriel, they had not killed her, that made them better than this monster who masqueraded as a Hero.

The dark things reminded her that she hated the monster that had killed Sirana. Reminded her that he was a monster. Reminded her that he burned her with that blue fire until she forgot what the blue fire whispered.

She got unsteadily to her feet, ignoring her stiff joints and cramping muscles.

Today, she reminded herself, I will kill the bearer of Courage. Today I will kill the monster.

And the dark things were pleased.