In an instant Link had his sword to the newcomer's throat, gripping his blue shirt by the collar. Around him he heard the ring of more swords being drawn and the creak of the wild boy's bow drawing back. The newcomer's face drained, gulping against the cool steel pressed to his neck.
"Whoa, I- What?" the boy stammered, raising his hands hesitantly.
"Where did you learn that name?" Link growled.
The boy's eyebrows raised in genuine-looking surprise. "I, u-um, it's mine?"
Link was certain at this point one of the other men was going to step in, tell him to calm down, suggest he put down his weapon – he could feel the tense eyes on him all around. So much for building trust. He glanced at the wild boy, his bow taught and eyes focused. Focused on his mark. Focused on… the boy?
Link pushed that mystery to the back of his mind, gripping the boy's tunic tighter. He'd been so careful. How had he missed the signs? Waking up in the forest, meeting so many strangers determined to stick with him… this had all the marks of The Prince of Darkness. Idiot! You've walked right into a trap!
He grit his teeth. "That can't be your name. Where did you hear it?!"
"I-I swear to Nayru I have no idea what you're talking about!" the boy sputtered. "It's just my name! Honest!"
"It can't be your name, because it's mine!" Link shouted. The boy's mouth fell open in shock.
"Wait, what?"
The question didn't come from the boy. Link looked over his shoulder at the fur-clad man. His clenched jaw softened at seeing the other man's expression.
"Link. That's my name. That… is what you said, right?"
Link nodded slowly. Suddenly an arrow whizzed past his pointed ear and embedded itself in the other man's shield. He whipped his head around to the boy in blue, who already had another arrow knocked and drawn.
"What sort of Yiga tactic is this?" the boy snarled, "Is using my name supposed to lower my guard? Catch me unprepared? Calling yourself Link gives you away, traitors!"
"Traitor?!" the man with the scarf fumed. From his collar he removed a ring on a chain around his neck; the ring bore an intricate crest. "You are the traitor, for impersonating me, Link, Captain of the Royal Guard!"
The man in red lifted his sword to the blond man's neck, resting the point under his chin. "The same Royal Guard who declared me, Link, a felon, and aided in the coup against the king?"
With a clang and a flash, the man in red's sword flew into the air, spinning before landing in the hand of the eldest man. He pointed the sword to the fur-clad man and raised his own claymore to Link and the newcomer, glaring intently at the boy in blue. The boy turned his aim to the man nervously.
"Don't try it!" the hardened man barked. Link glanced back and forth between the two, both staring daggers. Eventually the boy in blue ceded, lowering his bow. Link pushed the newcomer away and dropped his sword, the fur-clad man following suit.
"Much better," the one-eyed man muttered. He didn't lower his swords. "Now, am I to assume both of you young men are also called Link?"
The man in white and headbanded boy – the only two who had not yet spoken – nodded slowly.
"As am I," the man stated. Eyes widened further as the man lowered his swords. The wolf-pelted boy in particular looked especially shocked. "It would seem to reason, then, that this is no coincidence."
"Nine Links…" the headbanded boy mumbled, dropping his sword and putting a hand to his head.
"Pick that up, we haven't figured this out yet," the man said. He sheathed his claymore and handed the stolen sword back to its owner, motioning for Link and the fur-clad man to follow suit. "But let's be calm about this. Killing each other won't give us answers."
Each of the men sheathed their weapons and took a step back. The newcomer hastily picked up his scabbard and re-strapped it over his shoulder, taking a position as far from Link as he could manage and eyeing him warily. The fur-clad man didn't remove his gaze from the eldest – he didn't even blink.
They all remained silent, watching each other suspiciously for what felt like ages. It was preposterous. Nine different people, all sharing the same name, running into each other in an unfamiliar forest on the same night? That was the sort of coincidence that happened in stories. Part of him deep inside, the part that thirsted after adventure, wanted to chalk this up to his life being strange and just accept it as a magical, exciting truth, but the logical part of him protested fiercely. They must be lying. Or perhaps I'm seeing things. The boy in blue could have poisoned the food. Damn, I shouldn't have trusted his word on those herbs!
He looked to the boy and searched his azure gaze for any hidden malice but was only met with caution and confusion. The others carried similar auras, steeled for action but utterly perplexed. This definitely can't be coincidence. He met the eyes of his fellow from the inn. So what is it?
"Zelda."
The silence was broken by the man in white, and the other eight men's heads swiveled to him in surprise.
He looked thoughtful for another second before continuing. "By your faces, you all recognize the name. We all know her – or, at least, someone by that name, don't we?"
An image of the beautiful brunette queen flashed through Link's mind, followed by the memory of auburn hair and lavender perfume.
"Each of us knows her… because we were chosen. Chosen as her hero. Am I right?" Link's lips parted in surprise. No one spoke. "I'm right, aren't I?"
"How do you know that?" the man in red demanded, fear glinting behind his pupils.
The two men locked eyes. Slowly, the man in white's expression turned grim.
"The curse… it held…" the man whispered. He slumped to his knees and peered up at the sky. "Hylia save us, it held true…"
"What does that mean?" the man in red pushed. He stepped toward the man in white, expecting a response, but none came. Panic tremored in his voice. "Dammit, what is going on?!"
"Calm down!" The shortest of them raised a hand to the man in red.
"You calm yourself, dwarf!" the man spat, "I am sick and tired of surprises! Someone tell me what the hell is happening!"
"I think I have a theory," the blond man puzzled. The man in red shot a glare to the shortest boy and motioned for the blond man to continue. "Am I… correct in assuming we each have experienced things that others might call… unbelievable?"
Link bit his lip. Auburn curls. Golden light.
The man took the pregnant pause as a yes. "Then… on my own journeys, I encountered a sorceress who told me what she called, 'The Legend of the Hero'."
"What does this have to do with anything?" the man in red shouted impatiently.
"Everything," he replied flatly. "This sorceress told me of the Goddesses' methods, and that when Hyrule's need was greatest, the spirit of the Chosen Hero was destined to be born again and banish evil from the realm."
He approached the man in white, kneeling to eye-level and holding his gaze. "You know what I'm talking about, don't you?"
The man in white's eyes glimmered with a film of tears that hadn't yet fallen. Slowly, gravely, with fists clenched, he nodded.
"Then… you know who we are, don't you?"
Again, the man nodded.
"W-Wait…" the fur-clad man stammered, "The spirit of the Chosen Hero… born again as in reincarnated?" The blond man nodded solemnly.
The lobster-shirt boy rubbed the heel of his palm into his temple, pulling at his fluffy yellow hair as he chimed, "So the hero from Grandma's legend is… reborn over and over?"
The blond man furrowed his brow. "What is your grandma's legend?"
"Well…" The boy was thinking hard. "Before Old Hyrule sank-"
"Wait, Hyrule sank?" the man in red scoffed. "Are you sure you didn't land on your head when you fell out of that tree?"
"Quiet!" the eldest snapped suddenly. The man shut his mouth with a scowl. Of everyone in the group, Link had expected the eldest to have the most answers, but based on how intently he watched the boy as he continued, he suspected he was just as perplexed as the rest of them.
"Before Old Hyrule sank, the kingdom was threatened by an evil from the western desert. It was powerful and seized a piece of the Triforce, burying the kingdom in darkness, until out of nowhere a hero wearing green appeared and sealed away the evil." The boy furrowed his brow. "After it was sealed away he vanished without a trace, and even when the evil escaped he didn't appear again. The Gods had to sink Hyrule to keep the evil at bay."
The group was silent for a minute before the man in red scoffed again. "Ridiculous, that is. As you can see, Hyrule is fine and dandy and not underwater."
"Well duh," the boy shot back, "This is New Hyrule. Geez, most of you are older than me. Didn't you live on the Great Sea?" The man in red looked even more confused.
"Tell me more about the hero," the eldest man said, cutting off further argument.
"Uh," the boy continued, "Well, Grandma always called him 'the Hero of Time' because he used time travel or something to beat evil. She never really told me what sort of time travel that was or how he pulled it off."
The careworn man's single eye widened as the boy spoke. Link was still utterly perplexed. Legends? Heroes? The only legend I know is the Legend of Zelda, and there was no hero in that. The only "chosen" one was me – sort of. And I'm definitely not a hero worthy of legends. The day the Triforce appeared on the back of his hand flashed vividly before his eyes. What are they talking about? What am I missing?
"Again I ask, what does this have to do with anything?" The man in red was getting more and more frustrated by the minute. The careworn man, the boy in blue, and the wolf-pelt boy all seemed preoccupied, staring intently into space, while the rest watched the blond man in deepening bewilderment. The man in white had his gaze locked on the forest floor.
"Before I explain," the blond man continued, "you must agree to seriously consider what I am about to say." The man in red nodded and motioned for him to continue. "I believe… that we are all incarnations of the Hero."
Link's jaw dropped. The group went silent and all that could be heard was the crackling of the dwindling fire. Incarnations? As in… reincarnations of the hero's spirit?
"Hah," the man in red exhaled nervously, "Just because we're all men named Link, this is the conclusion you jump to? Ridiculous."
"Are you not, then?" the blond man continued. "The way you wielded your sword tells me you've seen your fair share of combat. Have you not done something that would label you a hero?"
Link ran a hand through his hair, gripping at his scalp. Visions of monster-ridden Hyrule raced through his mind, his wanderings in the ancient labyrinths coming to the forefront. Despite the preposterousness of the suggestion, it made all too much sense. The Triforce had chosen him. This would explain why. His fierce battle against his shadow flashed across his memory. Blue eyes. Auburn hair. This… this is why we're all here, isn't it?
The man in red glanced about anxiously, obviously not convinced of his own argument. "I… I have."
"And you all," the blond man continued, "You can say the same, can't you?"
Uncomfortable looks and silence were the only answers he got – and the only answers he needed. He turned over to the man in white, who nodded slowly.
"So…" the lobster-shirt boy began, "It's safe to say the rest of you woke up in the forest in the dead of night too?"
The blond man gave a start. "I hadn't even considered that. I did, yes."
"So did I," the headbanded boy added, "and I have to add I hardly recognized the map of Hyrule at the inn."
"Oh good," the boy in blue grunted, "Glad to know I'm not crazy. I didn't either."
The man in red looked even more frustrated now. "I'm still not sold on this whole being-the-same-person nonsense." His voice wavered slightly. "I also woke up in the woods in the middle of the night, but that doesn't mean we're all copies of some mythical hero's spirit or the like."
"No, no, copies are different," the headbanded boy cut in.
"What should I say then, versions? They're equally nonsensical."
"Perhaps not," the eldest put in. It had been quite some time since he had spoken. He stood and gestured to the lobster-shirt boy. "You said the man in your legends traveled through time, yes?" The boy nodded.
"I have also heard tell of such a legend," the boy in blue added.
"As have I," the blond man said.
"And," the man continued cautiously, "you each have thusly been chosen as heroes in your own time?"
"By the royals themselves," the blond man and the wild boy said simultaneously before giving each other strange looks.
"Well," the lobster-shirt boy hummed, "It was more like I went to rescue my sister from a demon bird and I kind of just… ended up with the job." The two others turned their strange looks from each other to him instead.
"Regardless," the man said quickly, cutting off the tangent, "I think that perhaps…" He exhaled slowly. "I'm that hero."
At this point, Link was desensitized to surprise – the other men seemed to be reaching that point as well, though he noticed the wolf-pelt boy's slight inhale despite how he tried to hide it.
"I… was called that title – the Hero of Time. Just once. And I fought a malicious foe from the desert tribe, and did so by bending time," the man said.
The man in red laughed hesitantly. "Well, yes, anyone could claim that now couldn't they?"
"But few know," he challenged, somewhat frustrated, "that I used the Royal Family's hidden treasure, the Ocarina of Time, to do so."
"You could easily make that up. We don't know that there even is such a treasure!"
"Just because you haven't heard of it, doesn't mean it's not real!" the headbanded boy objected. "I'd never heard of ice rods before, but look! You have one!"
The group composure collapsed as the men broke into heated shouts of disagreement. Link's head started to swim. He was well acquainted with magic, both his own and that of the gods. The theory of reincarnation – their shared spirit – wasn't entirely unbelievable. If what the weathered man had said was true, time travel was also not only possible but a fairly achievable feat, which made this explanation just that much more likely – they clearly didn't hail from the same era or kingdom. But is he telling the truth? Are any of us telling the truth?
As the party continued to argue, Link saw the man in white silently get to his feet and return to his bedroll by the fire. The man gently took a seat, reached into his pack, and withdrew a beautiful, curved lyre. Entirely plated in a soft-lustered gold, the arms and soundbox were engraved with an intricate bird similar to the one on his cloak. It didn't seem quite like magic, but the harp gave off an otherworldly feeling that made the camp seem lighter and warmer despite the harsh chill of the night. The man carefully set his grip on the lyre, strings shimmering in the shadow of the fire. Link had never seen an instrument of such quality – not even in the royal palace.
Without a word the man began to pluck a few notes. A slow, cascading introduction drew the group's attention. The ethereal aura that filled the camp turned crisper and Link's heart skipped a beat. Do I… know this song?
The man's fingers danced skillfully over the strings as a tune began to form. A drop from high to low. A quick, upward run. He wove a harmony among the arpeggiations with firm accents, slowly adding more layers of chords. Link felt something stirring in his chest – an energy he could not recognize nor describe. The man's eyes were closed softly as he played, building the melody out of the sounds and silences echoing in the dark forest. Link met the eyes of the lobster-shirt boy. The feeling in his chest leapt suddenly. I… I know I've never heard this song before, and yet… why do I feel this way?
The music swelled into a powerful refrain. Tears stung at the back of Link's eyes. What is this feeling? He noticed a droplet roll down from the eldest man's single eye. The plinks from the harp were uncharacteristically full and deep, almost as though an entire orchestra had joined from far in the distance and a choir hummed from the heavens. The man in white leaned into a final crescendo, and as the final cadence reached its peak, Link understood.
We are the Spirit of the Hero.
The man in white finished and opened his eyes. The other eight men stood silently, eyes wet and mouths agape. He smiled halfheartedly. "It's safe to guess the Song of the Hero spoke to you, then?"
Link half expected the man in red to protest again, as he had been doing since the moment they met, but he remained quiet. After another second of silence, the fur-clad man chuckled.
"That's quite the song," he grinned, "Where'd you learn it? A whistling rock in the forest?"
The man in white smirked awkwardly. "Dragons, actually."
All of the mistrust Link had harbored only minutes before was suddenly replaced by trust; illogical, confusing, emotion-driven trust, but trust nonetheless. The blond man had been right; all nine of them had a deep connection, one that had been awoken by the song. It wasn't a personal, camaraderie-based feeling, but it was enough to know he wouldn't be murdered in the night. At least, he thought, I can trust that I wouldn't murder them. If we're the same soul, I can trust that much. He met the gaze of the newcomer – the boy he had nearly killed – and felt his stomach lurch. Except I almost did murder one of us. A twinge of guilt tugged at his conscience. I… almost ended another version of me.
"So wait," the lobster-shirt boy said, breaking eye contact and turning back to the blond man, "How does this reincarnation thingy work? Are we all the same person?" His eyes grew even wider. "If one of us dies do we all die?! Quick, did any of you get a butt bruise when I fell out of the tree?!"
The blond man laughed. "No, I'm fairly certain we're still separate people." The boy sighed in relief. "From what the sorceress told me, I believe we all have individual spirits born from that of the first hero – similar to how a tree has many branches. We are all connected to the same 'trunk' but are distinct in our growth and experiences. Yet, we are still one tree."
"Do you suppose that's why we can all exist here at the same time?" the fur-clad man asked honestly. The blond man shrugged slightly and nodded.
The group was silent for a moment again, until the man in red cleared his throat.
"Well, I suppose we should stick together." He coughed again. "But in all honesty, did the gods have to give us all the same name? Bigger pain in the ass than your butt bruise, if you ask me."
The camp broke into raucous laughter. Somehow the comment – though not particularly clever – released all the pent-up tension the night's revelations had built, and the somber tone evaporated into the now lighter mood. Link nearly doubled over in stitches. The eldest was the first to catch his breath, though still smiling wide.
"I suppose you could call me Time, as some of you already know me as such." He gestured to the lobster-shirt boy.
"What, you don't like 'old man'?" the man in red grinned. It was clear he was enjoying the banter.
The weathered man – Time – chuckled. "What about yourself? Or should I call you 'fiesty one' like I've been doing in my head?"
The group laughed harder as the man's jaw dropped, appalled. He gave a disgruntled squint and thought for a moment. "Well, I've only been addressed by one title before. The princess called me "Hero of Legend" at the celebration feast. So, perhaps simply 'Legend'?"
"Fits the ego," the boy in blue nodded, smirking. The man in red – Legend – became even more infuriated.
"What would you call yourself, then?" he taunted.
"Easy," the boy replied. "Champion. The King himself gave me that title."
"Now there," Time cut in, "At this rate we'll all have names only to stroke our pride."
The boy sighed. "Well, I guess the ancient monks called me Hero of the Wild. Wild will do."
"Seems fitting," the headbanded boy quipped. The wild boy – Huh. I suppose I've already been calling him that – shook his head with a grin. "I'll go by Light. A couple imprisoned maidens took to calling me Hero of Light after I set them free."
"Plays on what I was going to use," the fur-clad man picked up. "I'll go by Twilight – also called by a similar title." The boy Link shared a room with – Light – and the fur-clad man – Twilight – exchanged simple grins.
"Well," the blond man began, clapping his hands together, "I've been called Hero of Souls, but I don't take much of a liking to that. How's my official title, Captain of Warriors?"
"No way I'm calling you captain," Legend scoffed.
"Warriors isn't bad, though," Twilight put in. The blond man – Warriors – nodded satisfactorily.
"I'll go by Wind!" the lobster-shirt boy chimed. "My talking boat friend called me that once!" The group gave him an odd look. Wind. I will remember that. Least I can do for that sliver on your neck.
"Sky is good for me," the man in white added. "Not a title, just where I'm from."
"Wait, what?" Wild blurted. "Sky is where you're from?"
The man in white – Sky – rubbed the back of his neck. "Skyloft, actually. I get the feeling most of you are surface-dwellers, so that seems to be my defining quality."
Wild continued to stare incredulously. Time turned to Link expectantly. "What about you? How shall we address you?"
Link looked around, caught slightly off-guard. What should they call me? I've never really had a title. I guess the princess called me the Hero of Hyrule once, but that's already a name, and one we will use often. He thought a moment more, trying to pick a defining quality, but the more he pondered, the less he felt like he had one. I'm just a traveler. Hardly handed a great destiny like these men seem to have been – I just did what needed to be done. I can't very well go by 'traveler' though can I?
The group grew slightly concerned, watching the last Link's eyes dart about as he thought.
"Surely you've been given a title?" Warriors stated it more than he asked. Link shook his head.
"Are you from anywhere interesting, like Sky?" Twilight added. Link shook his head again.
Time spoke next. "Then, perhaps, is there something specific you were chosen to do that would work? The reason for your quest?"
Link's eyes widened. Yes! That will work! He smiled. It was perfect. The reason he was brought to the northern castle. The reason the mark appeared on his hand. The reason she had made such a terrible sacrifice. He would name himself after the very piece of the golden power he was called to obtain. He took a breath.
"You can call me Courage."