"Stay with me, Link."

The girl's voice cut through the murkiness of his mind and drew him back from the brink. Who was that? It seemed so familiar, yet—

"AHH!" He winced and clutched his side. Water trickled under his shirt down his stomach. A voice, garbled and distorted as if he were underwater, spoke so close he felt the breath against his ear. Someone supported his limp body. His feet dragged uselessly behind him, the toes of his leather boots bumping along the uneven ground.

Warm, sticky liquid seeped through his tunic where he clutched the fabric. He managed to open his heavy eyelids. Just above his belt, a crimson stain smeared his beautiful green tunic, and he grimaced. Man, it's getting everywhere. He'd wash it as soon as he got home so that it was good as new. No, better than new. Then he'd polish his shield, maybe sharpen his sword, and—Oh no! The hat! With relief, he felt the snug Hero's Cap still tight around his head. Whew, that was close. Personally, he thought it looked a bit silly, but it was part of the Hero's Clothes. And Zelda liked it. The thought made him smile.

Then he tasted it: iron, warm and thick, coating his tongue, and slowly the reality of the situation took hold. It's not water. He'd been injured plenty of times before, but never this bad. Nausea bubbled in his stomach as he felt blood—his blood—oozing between his fingers. His heart began to race, pounding in his temples, throbbing in his wrists. There was too much. It was all leaking out of him. His breath came in quick gasps. He was only fifteen; he was too young to die!

Get a hold of yourself, Link! Impa was always reminding him to focus on the facts. Alright, I'm still alive...I think? A shooting pain from the wound in his side convinced him. He calmed a bit. But he needed to figure out what was going on.

When he tried to speak, words turned into unintelligible mumbles, and the response from his companion was just as garbled as before. Looking around only made the world tumble around him. If not for the pain keeping him tethered to reality, he would have passed out again.

The youth pressed his eyes shut and forced himself to use his other senses. Immediately, he was overwhelmed by the smell of sweat. Was that his sweat or his companions? A hand was squeezing his free arm to keep him from slipping; it felt like he was hanging around the other person's neck. An ally. Possibly a Shiekah. The mysterious companion grunted with every step, a guttural, determined sound, but higher pitched than a man's voice. Impa? As if to confirm his deductions, a thin braid of hair brushed against his face. He breathed easier being in the company of his mentor.

Okay, that's good. That's really good. So...where are you? Twigs snapped under their feet. A forest. The song of a blue sparrow darted somewhere behind them. Southwest region. Between hitched, painful breaths, he caught a whiff of fresh hyacinth and the soft wetness of moss. Finra Woods! Man, I'm really good at this! I should do this more often. Maybe after—ah! He winced and coughed. Tiny drops of fresh blood speckled his tunic.

Focus, Link! What's the last thing you remember?

The Hylian army was outnumbered four to one. He was fighting Ganon alone. Though...try as he might, he couldn't even land a blow on his enemy. The memory made him furious. There was a swirl of red mist and the flash of a black blade. He fell to his knees and held his side. Then, in the darkness, a golden triangle glowed on Ganon's hand. Burning red eyes replaced natural amber ones, coarse fur sprouted through the dark armor, and a moment later, the Desert King's laugh transformed into a bestial roar.

Link's eyes snapped wide open. He choked as he tried to speak, his feet struggling to find their strength.

"There's no use," his companion said gravely. Link looked up and forced himself to focus on the Sheikah symbol—the crimson ever-crying Eye—emblazoned on her chest. The white hair was pulled into a tight yet tattered bun save for a single white braid which swayed with each step. I was right! The thrill of success waned at the foreboding in her steely gaze and vanished at her statement. "The Castle is lost."

He stumbled. Lost? It couldn't be. After all they'd done. After all he'd done. He was the Hero of Legend, prophesied to defeat Ganon. How could this happen?

Impa pulled him along. His feet shuffled forward, though his mind struggled to register. He glanced up into her face, his dirty blond bangs falling into his eyes. Her expression, as always, was inscrutable like a mask.

"We are following the princess's trail," she reported. "Other than her—" She hesitated. "—none... survived."

His knees gave way, but Impa's arm kept him from falling. The army, the Sheikah, my friends. All... His eyes stung, and he desperately searched for something good. Zelda, the princess—he corrected himself—survived. Now, more than ever, she needed a hero. Link gritted his teeth and forced himself forward, each limping step sending a new stab of pain through his body. He wished he could at least wash his face before she saw him.

As the stone shrine came into view, his mind raced like a fish swimming upstream. What was she hoping to accomplish? The battle was in the other direction. And if all the armies of Hyrule couldn't stop Ganon, what did she think she—

Suddenly the shrine blazed with blinding white light, and the two stumbled to a stop. Impa threw her arm over her eyes. Link squinted. His heart leapt into his throat, and without regard for station or decorum, he breathed her name. "Zelda."

He ran towards the light. The taste of iron forgotten, the pain in his side irrelevant.

Catching himself against the open doorway, he held up a blood-stained hand and peered into the blazing room. The light radiated from the stone statue of Hylia on the opposite end of the room, her marble arms clasped over her chest, her wings outstretched in welcome. At the foot of the statue, hands extended upward like a child asking her mother to hold her, stood the Princess of Hyrule.

"Zelda!" Link cried. The princess's arms dropped slightly, and Link noticed on the back of her left hand glowed a bright triangle. She turned, the powerful light silhouetting her body. Link gasped as he saw her eyes. They were completely white, like the light around her.

"Link?" she asked distantly.

He couldn't help but smile. His legs moved on their own, and a moment later, his muddy boots were pounding across the pavers. Everything would be fine. They could fix this. Somehow. He just needed to reach her. He willed his weary feet to move faster.

"Link," she said, her eyes full of compassion and sorrow. "Hope is coming."

Her irises were returning to their regular sapphire hue, and yet something was still off about her. Those eyes that normally twinkled like the stars now looked older, wiser, than her seventeen years of life could explain, as if she'd lived a hundred lifetimes and more.

"Be strong," she said.

Link was nearly there, stumbling blindly towards the light. Only a few more feet. Hold on. Hold on! He reached out.

As suddenly as it had appeared, the light vanished. Link staggered to a halt, eyes wide but seeing nothing.

"Zelda!?" he said, groping about. Sight was returning slowly. Behind him, he heard Impa enter the shrine. In a moment, he sensed her by his side.

"Where's the Princess?" she asked.

Link spun around, swinging his arms violently. No, no! This can't be happening! His eyes burned with salt and sweat.

Finally, everything came back into focus, but he couldn't believe what he was seeing, or rather, what he wasn't seeing. He collapsed and held his face in his hands.

They were alone.

Author's Note:

While I stick very closely to the HTTYD movie/TV show lore, I take liberties with the LoZ elements. Please read with an open mind, as if this were a new game.

Thanks to Ari Lewis ( /) and Luke for beta reading!