Disclaimer: I have no affiliation with Nintendo; I have no claim to any of the characters in the story below (except for the name Zartaris.) Shigeru Miyamoto and Nintendo own the Legend of Zelda series, not me.
That was how Majora became the God of Darkness, the High God of the Universe. I had failed all things…my people…my godly family…my son Vulcan…and myself. I, Zartaris, the most powerful of the gods, had been overpowered by it, and it had claimed all creation for itself.
Worst of all, the mask wouldn't let me end my life. No sentence was worthy of a crime of my magnitude. Now, I had truly become a Hylian, one of my people; mortal, all my former powers completely revoked.
I was lying in the middle of a burned field just outside of what was left of Clock Town, which seemed mostly intact, probably due to the highly organized government. As for myself, I could feel pain; a completely new concept for me, for gods do not ever get hurt. I tried to get up, but the pain of broken ribs was too strong. For the fist time, I screamed in pain. I stopped moving, and planned my next move.
Obviously, my injuries were extensive; I knew as a fact that I had broken ribs, a severely burned arm, a deep gash across my waist, and most likely, I had many other wounds not yet noticed. However, I had no worries over them; Majora had let me live so I could suffer under its rule, so I doubted he would allow those injuries to kill me. Yet they hindered me greatly; because of them, I was stuck in a smoldering field, seized with the new sensation of physical pain; being unused to it, I couldn't tolerate it for a second. So, I simply stayed in one place, not moving, hoping for some sort of rescue.
It started to rain. From dark clouds poured forth a stream of water, completely soaking me and changing the ground I was lying on into a soft goop. Seeing no alternatives but waiting for things to look up, I closed my eyes and explored the depths of my mind. To my surprise, I was finding it more and more difficult to remember the past; as if my memory was being erased…possibly it was. However, I did find something, something very useful. I had somehow managed to retain one of my weaker powers, telepathy. Unsurprisingly, this was a good sign.
I reached out with my mind, searching for anyone who might want to help me. I could feel Hylian presence in Clock Town, but they were busy combating the fires caused by Majora. Further out, I could feel the Gorons, but they were almost all the way across Termina; they wouldn't arrive for hours. I tried in a different direction, and finally, I found a hope in a nearby ranch. I could feel two women there, probably sisters. With luck, perhaps I could convince one of them to listen to the voice that I would place in her head, come over here, and rescue me. Anyhow, for better or worse, it was worth a shot.
I concentrated, imagining my voice reaching for miles. Further and further I stretched it, until it finally settled in the living room of the main ranch building.
*Please, help me…* I begged telepathically.
"What was that?" I heard a young girl cry out, obviously a little frightened.
"Romani, don't worry a bit. It was just the wind," a young woman's voice tried to reassure the child.
"It sounded like someone saying, help me," the girl Romani whimpered, "and the wind can't say that."
*Please, help me…*
"That time I heard it!" the woman said loudly.
"Cremia, I'm scared."
"Don't be, Romani. We'll find him."
*I'm outside of Clock Town in a field…I speak through telepathy. Follow your hearts…your heart and instincts will guide you…*
"Romani, get the horses ready. We're going to find him."
*Horses may not be a good idea. I am badly wounded…*
"Maybe the cart would be better, Cremia?"
"The cart is so slow, Romani. He might not be alive when we reach him."
*I will be alright…I am hurt, but I can wait for the cart…horses will make it worse…the cart won't.*
"Then it's settled. We'll take the cart," said Cremia. "Come, Romani! Let's hurry!"
That was the last I heard of that conversation, for darkness swept over my mind, plunging me into the Hylian subconscious mind. When a god is unconscious, we can still think, but obviously, Hylians are different, for I was out like an extinguished candle. When I came to, I was in a soft bed.
My exposed wounds had been bandaged carefully; I was in good hands. However, it was still painful, as I learned when I tried to get up. It was apparent that time was a necessity in healing wounds of this magnitude. Seeing that no one was around, I explored the depths of my mind. The past was foggy, but it had not gotten worse; with persistence I could still bring things out of memory.
"Hey Romani, he's awake!" Cremia came in, relieved that I had woke up. She was followed by her little sister Romani, who seemed equally relieved.
"Good morning. Thank you both for coming to my aid," I said.
"We're just glad you're alive. I'm Cremia of Romani Ranch, and this is my little sister, Romani. So how did you get so tore up? And what's your name?" asked Cremia.
"I am Zartaris, the G…just Zartaris. I was…fighting with a wizard."
"Mr. Zartaris, who was it?" asked Romani.
"It was-" I quickly contemplated the answer, and decided that it would make no difference whether they knew the truth or not, for they had probably never even heard of the evil mask. "Majora. Just call me Zartaris."
Cremia fetched a bottle of a red fluid from a cupboard and gave it to me. "This is a red potion, Zartaris. Now that you're awake, you can drink it, and it will heal you."
The stuff tasted like spoiled ambrosia (ambrosia is the food of the gods,) but I drank it anyway. For a moment, my body went numb, and I could see my injuries glowing brightly as they healed. The numbness wore away, and I was restored.
Romani asked, "Zartaris, is Majora a mask?"
Naturally, I was startled. "Wha…I mean h-how do you know?"
"Grasshopper told me all about Majora's Mask," Romani giggled.
"Who's Grasshopper?" I asked.
"Her pet name for Link," said Cremia. "I haven't seen him for a while now."
"Oh. Well, yes, I guess Majora was a mask, Romani."
"What was it like, fighting a mask? Was it dangerous? Deadly? Did you defeat it?"
"Now Romani, we really shouldn't inundate Zartaris with questions like that," said Cremia, saving me from saying things I would rather not bring back to mind.
"That's all right. I really don't mind."
"Zartaris, do you live in Clock Town? If you do, we're making a delivery later today, and you can come with us if you want."
"Thank you for your offer, Cremia, but I must decline; I have no home in Clock Town."
"Well, where do you live? We can drop you off; you shouldn't do much traveling for a while after being torn up like that."
"Um…My home was burned down, just like part of Clock Town." I had to think of some kind of excuse, other than, 'I am a former god with no home who blundered and ruined your future; expect life to become exponentially harder.'
"Clock Town was burned? We had heard that parts of the field had been burned, but not the town. That is a shame, especially with your home and all," Cremia said, sympathetically. "You have no place to stay?"
"I will find a place. Don't worry about me. I'll be fine."
"If you say so, I guess. Well, we have to go load the Château Romani for the run to Clock Town—what's left of it, that is."
"Château Romani?"
"It is an alcoholic drink made from aged milk, Zartaris."
"Oh. Could you use a hand loading the milk, Cremia? You saved my life, allow me to repay you back somehow."
"Alright, I suppose you can help. Follow me, and I'll show you what we need to do."
The job wasn't hard at all. In fact, each bottle of the stuff was small and relatively light, so all I had to do was simply take a bottle from the basement storage racks, hand it to Romani, who, standing on the basement stairs, would hand it to Cremia, who placed each one in a box on the cart. Working in this fashion, the job was done within an hour. With the cart full, Romani and Cremia were ready to make their delivery.
"Are you sure we can't take you anyplace?" asked Cremia.
"Well, alright. I suppose you could give me a lift to Clock Town, if that would be alright with you."
"It would be fine with me."
I boarded the cart; soon, though the pace of the cart was little more than a brisk walk, we were out on the field, the road to the ranch almost out of sight. About a mile ahead was Clock Town, from this point of view mostly unscathed. However, the puffs of smoke, weak but still there, proved that there had indeed been a fire, but it had been brought under control.
Yes, I was back in the land I had created. I was with the descendents of the people I had treated as my beloved children. This time though, I was actually one of them. My height, previously fifteen feet, had become a simple six. My old strength was gone, and only one of my powers was left. Strangely, I still retained my unusually colored (even for a god) platinum hair, making me look rather unusual; fortunately, neither Cremia nor Romani had thought to ask about it. The color was a vibrant, almost metallically reflective platinum, so it couldn't be confused with old age; I didn't even look old. Majora had made me into a Hylian male in the prime years of life, possibly early to mid twenties.
The cart had rolled to a stop; we were at Clock Town. I disembarked and thanked my friends and resolvedly entered the town. This had been my world, and even if I was no longer divine, I intended to help rebuild what I had created. One day, I promise, I will somehow destroy Majora; reclaim my old place, see my son again. I have no clue at how I will do it, but the God of Nobility can be known for persistence!