Chapter 2
Leap of faith
High above the silent field, a massive island of pale, weathered stone streamed through the wispy clouds. The towers, frescoed walls, and colorful domed rooftops of a magnificent city emerged from the mist, glittering beneath the cold starlight.
The Goddess strode down the broad avenue that ran from the heart of the city to the island's edge. Grandmother followed as closely as she could without treading on the skirts of her white silk gown. A crowd of the other Skyfolk trailed after them, colorful robes and fluttering shawls and nervous whispers.
There was no wall at the end of the street; the paving-stones ran right up to the edge. The people who once lived here hadn't feared falling. They rode on the backs of giant birds and went anywhere they wished in the Heavens or on the Surface, or so the stories said. Only the Goddess knew for sure, and she was not inclined to dwell on the past, though it was filled with tales of her heroic deeds. She never forced the people to worship her.
These days, not all of the Skyfolk believed. Some speculated that the Goddess was no goddess at all, merely a woman wise beyond her years—a benevolent teacher and leader, skilled in magic, but no more. How anyone could think so, after standing in her presence, was beyond Grandmother. She didn't radiate divine power in a grand and terrifying way, as the Golden Three or the dragon-gods of the mountains did. (Or so the stories said. Grandmother had never seen them, and did not wish to.) No, the Goddess had a more understated majesty. There was a stark, plain beauty in her features, the smooth-worn grace of one who has endured through trials and ages. Though her only ornamentation was a simple beaded circlet resting above her silver-blond bangs, she carried herself with a regal air to humble any queen.
The clouds below parted before her crystal blue gaze, at once gentle and severe. Grandmother looked up at her, her eyes asking the question none of them dared speak. The Goddess pursed her lips and shook her head. Low, mournful cries rippled through the crowd.
Behind them, the shadows stretched and deepened, pooling on the ground in a widening spiral. The air around them seemed to grow dim and heavy. Tendrils of smoke rose from the spot, taking on the shape of a gigantic, muscle-bound man. He was covered in reptilian scales from his wrists to his neck. In place of hair, a mane of fire wreathed his face.
Screams rang out up and down the street, and then everyone was running. Grandmother dove into an alley, dragging a couple of nearby children along with her—she didn't know who they were, and it didn't matter. They scrambled over a garden wall and huddled behind a sculpted hedge, shaking from head to foot.
"What's happening?" one of the children quavered. "Is it the Evil One?"
Grandmother hushed him with a finger to his lips, offering a few trite words of comfort, but her heart was heavy with dread. To think he can already assume that form, even here in the holy city… Gods help us!
In contrast to her panicked children, the Goddess paid no heed to the intruder, even when he sidled up behind her and bent his head to whisper in her ear. She glowed like a lantern against his darkness.
"Victory is mine, Hylia," he rasped in a voice like a roaring furnace. Pressing in closer, he added with velvet-soft mockery, "Again."
"It is not finished," she replied coolly.
His lips parted in a sneer, revealing rows of needle-like teeth. "You have nothing left but your little flock of sky-children." He looked up and down the empty street. "And as usual, they can do nothing but cower."
"All below heaven belongs to us," said Hylia, still refusing to look at him. "The living and the dead as well belong to us, and all of history, and all of time. The earth remembers. The sky sees. And every mortal breath will yet repeat the song."
"Deny it like a foolish child, then." The fire spilled from his head to cloak his body, expanded into a roaring inferno. "I will hunt down every last one of these pathetic mortals and tear them to pieces before your eyes. Then you shall kneel before me at last, utterly broken, and acknowledge me as your true god!"
She would not allow him to provoke a reaction yet. Certainly not fear. "Rage all you wish, Demise. As you are now, you know you cannot touch me."
He moved as if to seize her arm, but his hand stopped inches from her skin. Her light glimmered through him, proving his form was not quite as solid as it seemed. The flames pouring off of him parted around her, repelled by some invisible barrier. They died down as quickly as they had risen, and he returned to smirking superiority.
"Already a third of your gods' power is in my chosen one's hands."
"Your chosen one," she repeated, in a carefully restrained monotone. "Did he make you proud? Will he sing of your glory tonight?"
"Yes, for it is my song every mortal breath repeats, little goddess. And my triumph is all the sweeter, because he is a Gerudo."
A thin crease formed on Hylia's brow.
"Your beloved ones. How fitting that they should be the first to see you for what you are." Demise held up his hand. For a brief instant, a golden triangle flickered there. "Know this: I do not easily relinquish what I have claimed."
"Indeed."
"Filthy hypocrite. Does that hero of yours serve you willingly, when you don't manipulate him? Ah, but I forgot. You've never let him live a life free of his burden. This you cannot blame on me. It was your doing, from the beginning. All of their suffering is your fault."
Silence.
"Sooner or later, they will all come to me. I am the infinite, the great End." Demise's leer broadened as he stepped up next to her, surveying the battlefield. "The boy seems to hold some promise, after all. Perhaps I'll add him to my collection next."
This time Hylia's eyes betrayed a glint of ire. "He is unbreakable. You know that." She jutted her chin toward the x-shaped scar on his forehead, noted with some satisfaction how his face tightened.
His voice dropped to a low growl, the sound of mountains cracking. "I can break anything."
Another long pause. Her mouth curved like a drawn bow. "Even curses?"
The demon folded his arms and regraded her with a stony scowl.
"Here is a prophecy for the king of demons." Hylia squared her shoulders and faced Demise at last. «Out of the west comes the son of thunder, a mighty arm to free the imprisoned. With silver in his hand he stands triumphant on the mountain.»
"Ha! Quote the Tarog Majori to me, will you? No, I see what you're playing at. Ghirahim will not serve you again. You should learn to accept your failures with grace."
"Short-sighted as always. Wait and see." An ethereal glow surrounded Hylia. Her hair and gown floated around her, no longer bound by gravity. When she spoke again her voice was louder, harsher, echoing from every direction. "We will show you power such as you cannot comprehend. And as for your so-called chosen one… he has all the proud ambition of Valken Orobas and all the wrath of Arkenhalm, but I laid them low, and I promise his path will be harder still than theirs. He will face the mirror of truth and judgment. We will cast him into darkness, into the depths of the abyss. At the Crossroads of Fate I will render my verdict, and when he begs for mercy, I will answer him with a sword. You think me weak? Remember my words. The history of light and shadow will be written in blood."
His flames roared up again, filling the air with choking smoke and something far more toxic, slithering purple wisps of rarefied malice. This time she responded in kind, a thin, brilliant sphere of light repelling his onslaught. They regarded each other through the haze of crackling magic.
"Let them bleed, then," he snarled. Abruptly, his form twisted in on itself and vanished.
Grandmother pressed her back into the garden wall and tried to make her breaths shallow until the sound of the evil one's voice faded and the shadows returned to their natural state. After several more minutes passed with no sign of his return, she dared to peek over the top of the wall. The goddess was once again alone in the middle of the road. Slowly, still trembling from head to foot, Grandmother stood up. The rest of the Skyfolk began to emerge from hiding. She saw the children back to their parents, and did her best to calm the people, full of unanswerable questions as they were.
When she had finally convinced everyone to return to their homes, she looked back down the street. The Goddess still stood at the edge. She turned slightly as Grandmother approached, inviting her to stand at her side. For some time they looked out over the clouds in silence.
"Your Grace?" Grandmother whispered. The Goddess looked down at her, eyes darkened with infinite sadness, and she swallowed hard. "Is this truly the end of Hyrule?"
"That name, I fear, shall be lost to the winds of time."
As if on cue, a wintry gust picked up, ruffling Grandmother's kerchief. The Goddess closed her eyes, let it blow through her hair. Grandmother looked down, down through the clouds at the blighted land. Seeing her forlorn expression, the Goddess reached out and lifted her chin with a finger.
"Do you believe in me, Grandmother?"
She nodded, curls bobbing against her cheek. No hesitation, even now.
The Goddess smiled. "We will go down to the forest," she declared. "In the sacred grove where my temple once stood, we will seek a new beginning. When we are through, no one will remember that we or this world existed. But take heart, my child. Names may be lost, and histories too, but one thing remains."
Grandmother stared at her, not quite comprehending.
"Courage," said the Goddess. The moment the word left her lips, a thunderbolt pierced the clouds, brief and brilliant. A column of verdant light blossomed in its wake. Interlocking circles of magic unwound in its core, inscribed with glowing letters of a language older than time. The Goddess stepped off the ledge into the light, hovered there, turned and held out her hand.
It meant leaving everything she knew behind. It meant starting from nothing. Grandmother braced herself and leaped.
"And courage need not be remembered, for it is never forgotten."