A/N: Hey, thanks for clicking on my story :D If you're new to my work, welcome. If you're coming from 'The Magic Awakens', welcome back!

I'm not sure if there's already a pre-established name for this kind of AU/canon-divergence trope, but I'm calling it a "premise reversal". It's where you take the main premise of a story and just... do the opposite? For the example of 'Twilight Princess', instead of the twilight invading the light realm, what if the light invaded the twilight realm? If you remember what happened when Midna was exposed to Lanayru's light, then clearly nothing good...

This is my first time writing deep, rotating, third-person POV and I'm really enjoying it so far. I hope you do too and I look forward to your thoughts at the end if you're willing to share :)

Updated 1 April 2022. Chapter titles 1 to 11 temporarily changed.

Updated 4 April 2022. Chapter titles 1 to 11 changed back to normal.


The Light Invasion

PART I - DESERT THE ARMY

Link of Ordon: Is your duty to your kingdom, or the parasite in your shadow?


Chapter 1 - A Strange Sadness as Dusk Falls


The trap was set. The fishing lines in Link's grasp were all but taut. Between the towering blades of grass was a peak of the pumpkin tops, their handles tethered to fishing lines.

Flat on her stomach beside him, Ilia breathed long and shallow. Teeth pinched her bottom lip.

"Don't waste food!" Jaggle always exclaimed that whenever anyone so much as bumped a crop, so Link and Ilia were gonna give him a good old spook. He wouldn't have a right to complain; these were Link's share. Two weeks of pickled pumpkin would be worth a scrap of excitement in this do-nothing town.

Jaggle's door creaked open. Showtime.

The first top was pulled off. The pumpkin fell into wedges like an eight-petalled flower. Ilia shoved her hands over her mouth, pre-emptively stifling her giggles, but there was no dumbfounded gasp to summon them. Maybe the victim of their little prank was rendered speechless. A second and third pumpkin bloomed, but no sound came from the doorway. Not even leather soles grinding through the grass.

Link was a conductor without a band. Jaggle's feet were meant to drum along the floorboards as he tooted for his wife. "Honey! The pumpkins are slicing themselves!" Pergie would brass that he's bonkers, and if Link was so lucky, Talo might have been around to chime with laughter as Malo strummed with curiosity.

Instead, the village of Ordon continued its usual drone. The distant baying of goats. The breeze rustling the pine trees. The bubbling brook behind them. The only addition was the lids thumping in the dirt. All of Link and Ilia's efforts were tragically unnoticed.

Leather sandals planted themselves before Link. The feet were lighter than Jaggle's tan, and the ankles were bare of his long blue hem. Only one villager could step lighter than Link, and it was the one who taught him how. The forest green sleeves of a swordsman were crossed over a white singlet, and a sandy, angular moustache deepened Rusl's frown.

Ilia sprung up, hands on her hips. "Link! You dirty scoundrel. I told you not to waste your food on some childish prank." She spun to Rusl. "Sorry I couldn't stop him. Hope you give him a good scold." Her bare feet thudded through the dried leaves and galloped over the wooden bridge. Traitor.

Dirt cushioned Link's chin. May the ground cave in and let him tumble into the mythical maze of Mogma.

Rusl sighed. "Get up, son."

With a muted groan, Link climbed to his knees. That beetle on the grass was a kinder site than his mentor's face. "I didn't know you were at Jaggle's," Link mumbled.

"I was checking on their supply. I'm about to gather wood in Faron."

Link sprung to his feet and dusted off his slacks. "Can I come?" Damn, he sounded eager again. Too eager to leave the village. "Epona can carry the load." Yes. Great cover. That horse listened to no one but him. (If she listened to anyone at all.)

Rusl jabbed a thumb at the wedges. "If you clean up, first."

With an awkward salute, Link trudged to the bed and reached for the first top. Rusl clicked across the bridge. On his way home or visiting other households? If it was the former, then Link didn't have much time to pile the wedges into his arms.

Curse those wedges. Curse them a thousand times! When Link reached for the final piece, a few more toppled into the dirt, and the curses totalled one-thousand-and-one. What if he tried shoving half a dozen upside down in his waist wrapping?

Worked like a charm.

At the bridge's peak, Link paused. Jaggle was pulling up pumpkins from the patch on the other side of the brook. There was no time for lectures. Perhaps if Link passed silently...

His muted steps settled on soft grass. Now he could pick up the pace. Go go go- A wedge thumped against the dirt. Link crouched to pick it up without disturbing the balance, but his crunched abdomen popped two more from his belt.

"Link? Blimey, what did ya done to those poor pumpkins?" Jaggle asked.

Link shoved a wedge into his belt, but four more tumbled from his cradle. No matter how tightly he tucked them among the rest, another few would fall. The window of escape was slammed when Jaggle's shadow fell over Link.

"Can't chat." Link kept piling and dropping and piling his shame. "Rusl needs Epona."

"Those slices ain't as dirty as you," Jaggle gruffed. "Gimme a sec. I'll fetch you a sack." The dreaded lecture had been shaved to a sentence. Whether it was a lukewarm victory or a soft loss, Link deserved to be done in by his own prank. Jaggle was a dear neighbour, annoying as he was at times.

Jaggle knelt before Link and shook the sack open. "How're you gonna salvage these?"

As Link gingerly deposited the slices, he imagined tossing them high instead, just to see them spin like boomerangs into the sack. "Rinse and pickle."

Jaggle drew the strings taught. "You should come over later. Pergie has a signature brine."

Link's smile and nod bid the farmer farewell. With the sack hitched over his shoulder, he scampered up the dirt path, past reeds swaying in the wind, past Sera's shop on on the lagoon peninsula, and past Fado's house nestled under Ordon's tallest tree like a hen and her egg.

The path led to Faron. Link's house was a stop along the way. It was a crooked hut carved into an ancient tree that rivalled Fado's in height. Ilia had likened it to the Kokori dwellings from a picture book, and it had inspired many games of pretend. Ordon Village was a quaint little paradise back then. Now it was a prison, and the pine trees were the iron bars.

A ladder, about two metres tall, led to the front door. Jaggle's sack was a godsend. Imagine carrying an overflowing armful of pumpkin up there. Halfway up, something nudged the burlap. Deep sniffs. Oh no. Link scurried up several rungs, but the culprit nipped the corner and tugged.

"Epona," Link sterned over his shoulder. The chestnut horse begged with a whinny. When she was a foal, Link always gave in. Now that he was more responsible and she was less adorable, he knew better, but Epona had already been conditioned. If Link wanted to catch up to Rusl, he couldn't challenge her to an unwinnable tug-o-war. "In a bit."

With a snort, Epona unclenched her jaw. Link clambered onto the front porch, pulled open the sack, and tossed a wedge into the air. Epona leapt up and chomped it. She cantered in a circle with a triumphant neigh.

The inside of Link's house smelled of musky oak. Dust danced in a pillar of sun from a window two ladders high. Behind the first ladder was one of Link's bookcases loaded with encyclopaedias, atlases, and even travel journals that teased Link's desire to escape the small-town life. To his right was the doorframe to a rectangle gap in the flooring. The basement. Ahead was a rusty metal boiler with a cooking pot dangling in its heart. On one side were shelves of jumbled food and crockery. On the other was a table with three chairs. For the past eight years, only one had known a common occupant.

Link propped the sack against one of the unused chairs. He should rinse the dirty pumpkin slices now, but the woods were calling. His gut was strong enough to handle a little dirt anyway. He had dealt with worse.

Outside, Link dangled his legs over the ledge and pushed off with his palms. Epona trotted over, chewing the last morsel of pumpkin. She nudged Link and nickered for more. With a fond chuckle, he stroked the white streak on her muzzle. "When we get back." Epona flicked his sandy fringe with an indignant snort but offered her side anyway.

He fetched the saddle from the stable and threw it over her back. The buckles jingled as he fiddled with them, but she was secure in seconds. Link stepped into the stirrup and swung the other leg over her swishing tail. Time to find Rusl.

A whoop spurred Epona. She thudded through grass and past the pastel blue waters of Ordon Spring. Of the valley that gashed Ordon from Faron, there was a single stitch: a rickety bridge of wood and rope. Rusl waved from the other side. If only Link could gallop, but the sway-happy bridge commanded a cautious trot.

Link pulled on the reins beside Rusl. "Thanks for waiting up."

He smiled. "Of course. I know this is important to you."

Yes, it was, but Rusl wasn't supposed to know that. "Just here to help." Link dismounted and looped the rein twice around his palm. Might as well walk with Rusl. Save Epona's spine for a heavier load.

The pines of Ordon were always too proper for the peasants that lived in their shade. They stood spiffy and straight, with their right-angled branches and needlepoint leaves withheld from reaching arms. Occasionally they would drop a few sticks, but burn them, and your house would have more smoke than heat. "If you want my wood," they sneered, "then pluck up your nerve and cut me down." On the rare occasion, the villagers did, whenever a house needed building or a gate needed fixing. There was always an excess, and boy, did leftovers like to take up space in Ordon's tiny world. So much that most planks were sold for cheap to the first merchant who would take them.

The forests of Faron were mightier than that. Scraggly bark strangled by vines. Trunks jagged and gnarled. Branches twisted and tangled. Ferny epiphytes leeched off oak, willow, and elm, but they did not weigh these trees down. Where the pines stuck up their tips like a nobleman's nose, these were the grandpas with broken noses, five 'o' clock shadows, crooked smiles, and bony arms lowered towards the layers of leaves. An invitation for the children of the forest, whether they had two legs or four, to climb into their company and hear the wisdom of the woods.

Faron was generous. Faron fuelled their fires. Link and Rusl plucked sticks from the foliage and snapped them from low-hanging branches. They were bundled into straw wraps and loaded onto Epona, whose hooves crunched through the dried leaves.

That was another way Faron had Ordon beat. On the first few dozen excursions, there was always a new delight upon the senses. The sweet smell of sap. Dew drops tickling toes. The chitters of squirrels and chirping of swallows. The prick of the sticks and the brushes of ferns. The shapes of the leaves -stars and teardrops and ovals- cutting unique patterns of light and shadow upon the dirt, grass, and moss. Finally, the breeze united it all. Sometimes the forest fluttered, sometimes it billowed, and sometimes it was naught but still.

By now Link had smelled and touched and heard and seen it all. On this excursion, just like the last and the last and the last, there was nothing to surprise him. Nothing at all.

Actually, had the shadows always stretched so far this early in the day? There was one place deeper in the woods where the sunset would be visible.

"Might find some better wood further in." Link gestured towards a 'vague' point deeper in the woods, but it 'happened' to be the path to the ancient Forest Temple where a family of monkeys was rumoured to dwell.

"I wouldn't recommend it," Rusl said from Epona's other side. He loaded the final bundle, blocking his face. "It's getting late, and monsters like to roam."

What Link wouldn't give to showdown a monster. He pulled a stick from a bundle and twirled it in his left wrist. "I can take them."

Rusl hummed from behind Epona. The tip of a stick retreated from the bundle on Epona's rear. What was- Wait! Rusl twisted around her tail. Link raised his stick to parry. Rusl waggled his tongue and gurgled like a bokoblin. With a laugh, Link beckoned for more. The 'monster' swung wildly, a flail of limbs. Mad and unpredictable and harder to block. Knobs nicked Link's cheek and uncovered arm, but when a clumsy spin attack had 'it' tottering on one leg, Link thrust. Rusl's arm snapped against his side, catching the 'blade'. With a dying crow, he fell to his knees and flopped on his side.

Link tugged his 'sword' free and flourished it. "Did I pass?"

"Hardly," Rusl grumbled. He reached for Link's hand and was pulled up. "You took several hits."

The scratches tingled. Rusl had a point. Link had put up a weak defence against the most dangerous of foes: one who fought without caution. "I was holding back," Link said coolly. "Didn't wanna hurt an old man."

Rusl scoffed. "Even if you were duelling a geezer, I hope you won't fight like you did. It would be a lousy loss."

He turned towards Ordon. Link took Epona's reins and followed along. "Maybe I need some trial by fire?"

Rusl stopped, turned, and lay his hands upon Link's shoulders. "You are a very lucky young man," he said heavily. "You've never had to fight for your life, and you should hope that you never will."

Link bit the tip of his tongue. There was so much to say to that, but Rusl couldn't know Link's deepest desires. They would sting like a swarm of deku hornets. Safe was boring. Safe was torture. Safe was driving Link insane. Rusl walked on before Link could respond, but as much as he craved the last word, it wasn't worth the hurt. It wasn't worth exposing the wanderlustful pieces of himself that didn't belong in this town.

Twilight was approaching fast. Too fast. Wasn't it mid-afternoon, or had Link already wasted away another day in the same places with the same people doing the same things? Yet again, time burned up like straw.

When the sun rose again, things would be different. Link didn't know how. Maybe he'd open his basement chest to find bountiful savings, maybe Rusl would finally give him a sword for the road, maybe Bo would ask Link to accompany him to Kakariko, or maybe Link would be so suffocated by routine that he'd mount Epona with only the clothes on his back and they'd gallop gallop gallop until he found something that made him feel alive for the first time in eight years.

Lies. Dusk was defined by denial. Link didn't have it in him to hurt his family like that. What would Fado do without his goatherd? The livestock had been especially stubborn these past few months. What would the children do without their beloved role-model? Trust and abandonment issues would grow like fungus in their hearts. What would Ilia do without her best friend? Die of boredom twice as fast. More importantly, what would Link do without her?

Rusl led Link and Epona on their usual detour: the cove of Faron Spring. Aquamarine waters cascaded down shelves like Ilia's chiffon curtains. Hooked, mossy rocks with curvaceous carvings tributed a spirit of light rumoured to take the form of a divine primate. One of these days, Link would empty all his savings into the water just to see if they would show. One of his books said it did the trick for Great Fairies, so why not light spirits?

The spring was undeniably beautiful, but Link had seen it. He had seen it again and again and again and he wanted to see something else that was beautiful for once, like the flakes glistening on Snowpeak, or the crystal-clear waters of Lake Hylia, or towering turrets of Hyrule Castle, or even the open green fields just beyond the forest. Was the latter too much to ask for, or should he be grateful that he got to experience the wider world at all through a shoddy home library?

This peaceful moment was a fabrication. Link pretended to lounge on the sandy shore beside Rusl. He pretended to savour the waterfalls' song. He pretended to be content in loving company, but his left hand, the hand Rusl couldn't see, the hand with three black triangles arranged into one, the hand that teased there was something more for Link, clenched a fistful of grass, slowly ripping the roots. He wasn't being kind to the land that nurtured him, but when Link couldn't rip up his own roots, this was cathartic.

"Tell me, do you ever feel a strange sadness as dusk falls?" It was uncanny how well Rusl spoke to Link's inner turmoil. Yes, Link had been grieving yet another wasted day, but only in the privacy of his mind. The question was invasive, like Rusl had pried open Link's skull to judge the resentment within.

"They say it's the only time our world intersects with theirs." Thank the goddesses above. This was about something else. Link's farce was still strong. "The only time we can feel the lingering regrets of the spirits who have left this world."

No, the farce wasn't strong. Rusl had glimpsed the self that Link stowed deep inside. His godfather hated it. He hated it so much that he sought to disown Link from his regrets. They aren't your feelings. They belong to those we lost. Why else would he say something so specific and out of the blue? Keep your jaw clenched. Don't say a word. Just listen and repress. Listen and repress. Listen and repress.

"That's why loneliness always pervades this hour of twilight," Rusl finished.

The emotions Link had bridled, bottled, and buried were beginning to burst. It showed in the slouch of his shoulders, the bow of his head, and the droop of his pointed ears. Yes, he was lonely. Yes, he was regretful. Yes, he was saddened. If Rusl really knew this part of Link, was he validating or vilifying it?

"But enough talk of sadness. I have a favour to ask of you, Link."

Link stashed his galloping heartbeat with a false smile. The answer was already yes. Didn't matter what it was. Favours fed the farce. To play the perfect villager, to hide his ugly resentment, he would always do what was asked of him.

"I was supposed to deliver something to the royal family of Hyrule the day after tomorrow." When Rusl first told Link last week, jealousy simmered within him all afternoon and the whole day after. If Rusl was really asking what Link thought… "Yes, it was a task set to me by the mayor, but will you go in my stead?"

Link nodded like a cucco pecking seed. It was more eager than intended, but how could he contain himself? For years he had ached for adventure and now it finally called.

Rusl's lips turned up. A fatherly fondness glowed upon his features. "You have never been to Hyrule, right?" The answer was obvious, so Link didn't offer it. His cheeks were already sore from the repressed urge to smile wider. "In the kingdom of Hyrule there is a great castle, and around it is Castle Town: a community far bigger than our little village." Volume after volume had taught Link that much and more, but Rusl didn't know about Link's obsessive late-night reads, so Link let him continue. "And far bigger than Hyrule is the rest of the world the gods created. You should look upon it all with your own eyes." Ordon and Faron had been Link's blindfold. A muffler of all the senses. Just one glimpse of that green field, and he'd see and touch and smell and hear for the first time.

Rusl pushed himself to his feet, cracked his back, and rolled his shoulders. "It's getting late. We should head back to the village. I will talk to the mayor." If Bo denied Link this chance, the next prank victim was a sure-fire choice.

Epona, who had been contently grazing on some daisies, was not about to leave just because Link tugged on her reins. There was one thing that worked without fail, and they were lucky it grew in the cove. A fern with horseshoe-shaped 'flowers' swayed in the breeze. Link plucked it, poked a hole in the base of the arch, and held it to his lips. He whistled a tune passed down from mother to son, father to daughter, and Mama to Link. It was one of the few sounds he never tired of, if only for the nostalgia and the way it perked Epona's head. Even when he played it on his lonesome at the goat ranch, she'd burst from her stable and come galloping across town.

Each 'flute' only lasted a few songs before the fibres deteriorated, and only a dozen bloomed each season, so Link was forced to be sparing. On days when Epona was especially rebellious, this was her only persuasion. What he wouldn't give for a durable replica.

Epona trotted after her master. The thump of her hooves was familiar. The footfall of Rusl was familiar. Link could recognise anyone in the village by the sound of their steps… except for that. A stranger crunched through the foliage behind them. Link whirled around. The barest glimpse of a shadow darted into Faron's cove.

"What caught your eye?" asked Rusl.

"Thought I saw someone new," Link said.

"Could be a traveller paying their respects to the spirit. Some of them like to visit all four springs."

Link shrugged. "Seems shy."

"Maybe we'll see them around Ordon."

When they stepped onto the bridge, the sun was half-submerged under the horizon. When their sandals met grass again, it had sunk below it. Despite the early night, today was brighter than ever. Rusl locking the gate to Faron was no longer a somber affair, because in a few days, it would be opened for Link and his steed to roam free for the first time.

Rusl's wife and son, Uli and Colin, were waiting by Epona's stable. The mother cradled the tike's snivelling face against her swollen belly, tenderly stroking his blond locks. Epona snorted at the sight of the trespassers, commanding their attention. Colin bounded up to his father, streaks shining on his face. "I thought the monsters got you."

Rusl tussled Colin's hair. "You know Link and I are tougher than that."

"The night crept up on all of us, it seems." Uli waddled up to her husband for a hug and a kiss. "I'm afraid dinner hasn't been started yet." She turned to Link. "Will you be joining us?"

"In a bit." He patted one of the bundles on Epona's back. "I can help out once this is sorted."

"Nonsense. You boys have worked hard enough already."

"Apologies," said Rusl. "You'll have to take care of it on your own. I must speak with the mayor before supper."

"Oh? What business do you have?" Uli asked. Colin shifted beside her, eager to know.

"I'll tell you over dinner," Rusl said. This was good. Link would get to gauge their reaction. He'd know how open they were to him leaving for good someday.

The family of three sauntered down the path to Ordon Village proper as Colin chatted excitedly about the progress he made on crafting a fishing rod.

Link untethered the first bundle from Epona's back, but before he could grab it, someone else hauled it off. By Epona's hind hooves was a pair of bare feet. Link smirked. "Hey, Ilia."

Half a head peaked above Epona, green eyes crinkled with a smile. "Hey. I was hiding behind the stable. Wanted to apologise for throwing you into the swamp earlier."

Link shrugged. "Eh, I'm used to it."

Ilia scoffed. "You make me sound horrible."

"Because you are," Link teased.

"Whatever. Tell me about this 'business with the mayor'," she poshed.

Link smiled without shame as he unloaded another bundle. "I'm finally leaving Ordon."

Her eyes bulged. "Permanently?"

"Nah. Just a super important, diplomatic mission." Ilia knew the one. Rusl was asked to present a handcrafted sword and shield to the queen and prince-consort of Hyrule, thus officially binding Ordon Province to the kingdom.

"Wow!" Ilia scurried around the horse and snatched Link's shoulders. "Can I come? Pretty please?"

"If you can convince Mayor Dad."

"Oh, you bet I'll try. You'd embarrass yourself in front of royalty without a proper lady to keep you straight." Link made an obvious glance at her toes hugging the grass. "Proper footwear is optional," Ilia huffed, "but not for you."

"Better hurry. The adults decide tonight," he said. With a sharp gasp, Ilia sprinted down the path. Though her extra weight might slow Epona down, Link's journey would only be sweeter with his best friend at his side.

It was a good thing the sun sank early, because the sooner tomorrow came, the sooner things would change for the better.


Bleary.

Everything was bleary. Zelda was in purgatory between sleep and awake. Everything was only half seen, half heard, half smelled, half felt, or half thought.

Wherever she was, she wasn't supposed to be here. Her back did not know this hard mattress, and her legs did not know these scratchy sheets. Her skin had never known this prickly cold. Her eyes rarely knew stone lit only by candlelight, nor the low-hanging roof. This tiny room was the size of her usual bed in the queen's chamber.

A word colder than the air arose. Dungeon. The when, why, and how were still lost on her.

There were banners of blue upon the windowless walls. A few lanterns, too. At least she wasn't in enemy territory. And what of doors and bars? Keeping her eyes open was like holding up the ceiling. To turn would be the weight of the western wing, and to raise herself would be the burden of the castle. With the state she was in, no wonder they didn't bother with chains, but why would they attempt to keep her warm? That ruled out a botched assassination.

Hinges creaked. The door didn't clang shut, which meant it wasn't metal bars. Perhaps wood? Something creaked beside her. A chair? Who was this invader?

The tender hand that took her gloved fingers answered all and she relaxed into the touch. It was only her husband, Fabian.

"My queen." Gentle as his murmur was, it still grated on her ears. All other times, his voice was music, polished as armour and sharp as a sword. "How do you feel?"

Her throat stung like a scrape in salt water. She clumsily formed the words, but only dry breath came through. She swallowed, grimaced, and licked her lips. 'Awful' was too ambitious a word. A single syllable was a strain, but not impossible. "Bad."

"If only I could bear this pain in your stead," Fabian soothed. "I'm afraid you've come down with a sudden case of the white plague." Zelda had read about this, but any detail she reached for slipped between her fingers like tadtones. "Headaches, sensitive hearing, sore throats, and a pale complexion ail you my dear, but do not fret. We have contained you to the captains' quarters. It may not be as cosy as our suite, but while you are vulnerable, we will secret you here." It wasn't ideal, but Zelda hadn't the energy to question it.

Fabian's thumb caressed the silk on the back of her right hand. The triangles beneath it tingled with yet another omen. "The… dreams," she croaked. Yesterday, or the day before, or perhaps last week, Fabian had learned of the nightmares that had plagued her for months. Hyrule blanketed by an eternal twilight. Citizens reduced to wandering spirits, trapped in a fear they could not place. Her kingdom patrolled by twisted beasts. The vision's persistence implied a prophecy, and that was why she divulged it. Fabian had listened so patiently, but he had also suggested some time to reflect. The only sign was a dream. To fortify their defences over that alone could cause unnecessary strife among the civilians. Curtesy of her new ailment, she wasn't fit to have this discussion at all.

"Do not fret, my dear. Paranoia and nightmares are the earliest symptoms of the illness." That didn't ring as true with Zelda, but her memories were hazy anyway. "Rest assured that I will keep a keen eye for signs of invasion. Our kingdom will act swiftly, but I doubt we shall need to act at all."

The answer left something to be desired, but Zelda couldn't tell what. Her lids fell over the grey ceiling, her weariness a lullaby. Soft lips touched her forehead.

Strange. He smelled of the forest.


It took hours for Link's giddiness to surrender him to sleep, so it was a decent thing that Fado didn't bay at sunrise like usual. Must be close to noon by now.

His eyes cracked open. The moonlight still beamed upon the carpet. If morning hadn't come yet, Link shouldn't feel this well-rested. Ah well. It'll probably catch up to him if he got up now. Best to snuggle back under the covers, close his eyes, and wait for the castles, mountains, and fields to grace his dreams again.

Sleep was an elusive mistress. She had packed her bags, crossed the straps over her chest, and started her merry journey out of town. "I'll be back when you need me."

Until the sun rose, Link was bridled with an impossible quest: entertaining himself in the world's most trite town. He swung his feet to the cool wooden planks and stretched with a yawn. Joints cracked like a campfire. It was a sound that usually marked a late start to the day. The body was such a fickle thing.

He bathed with a bucket and cloth and dressed in the britches, belt, and half-bolero that had been airing on a rack by the dead fireplace. Even at sunrise, there were typically a few spots of orange in the ashes. Not tonight.

Jaggle's sack was propped up against the dining chair. The pumpkin wedges still hadn't been cleaned! Forget two weeks of pickled pumpkin. The suffering wouldn't compare to a fortnight of dirt-flavoured pickled pumpkin.

A thorough scrub of the four-dozen slices later and the sun still hadn't peaked through the window. Epona's antsy snorts called to Link like a bell for the maid. He swept the last of the pumpkin into a fresh sack and placed it by the chair again, then fetched the jumper that Uli had knitted him last winter and shimmied it on. At the touch of the knob, Link scurried back, stole a slice from the sack, and went outside.

The offering earned Epona's forgiveness. For what, Link did not know. She had energy to expend but no sunrise calling for the golden goatherd duo. Might as well tire her out with a short ride.

Saddled and mounted, Link's soft whoop spurred her on. With the gate to Faron locked, their tiny world was even more cramped. They cantered up to the gate and down to Link's house ten times, passing the luminescent waters of Ordon Spring each way. On the eleventh, Epona's gait mellowed to a trudge. She snorted and shook her mane. There was no fun in it for her without goats fleeing her fearsome form.

The spring was right next to them. Ilia always lectured Link about not pampering Epona enough. "She's a girl too, you know." Next time-buster was washing that chestnut coat.

It must've taken half an hour, but by the end of it, Epona's coat had a moonlit sheen. Whatever clock nature was running by was not the one it had conditioned Link to follow. Upon returning Epona to the stable, his stomach growled, and Epona grunted for her meal. Breakfast would usually come with the sun or after the goats had been herded, so Link went inside and fetched one apple each. Something to chomp on without spoiling the most important meal of the day.

By the time Link reached the core, the stars were still blinking. This had to be some divine prank. He tossed the core to Epona, who munched and crunched contentedly. He snatched a wooden sword propped against the stable. There were a few metal dummies nearby, armoured by rusty buckets and dented scrap-metal. A little swordplay might rattle Fado or Sera awake, but Link was running out of things to do and his skill needed to be tip-top for the trip tomorrow. Never know what dangers one might encounter on the road.

The ringing metal scattered birds from the trees. That strike was weak. That one was crooked, and that one was-

"You're awake, too." The dummy's beatdown had masked Ilia's footfall. "How long?"

Link shrugged. "Few hours."

Ilia wandered up to Epona and stroked her muzzle. Epona nuzzled her, and Ilia closed her eyes to savour the comfort. "I think you should come see my dad," she said at last. "Something's not right with the world."

They were the last to join the crowd before Mayor Bo's patio, but he was not the one who stood upon it. Jaggle flourished a candle-holder with stalactites of wax drip. "I'm telling ya, the sun shoulda shown hours ago! These candles last me dusk 'til dawn, no sweat."

"Come off it," Fado said. "The sun can't bail on us like a bottomless bucket. It's the bloody sun!"

Behind Jaggle, the door creaked open. Mayor Bo, still in his sleeping cap and gown, smacked his lips as he blinked away the slumber. His eyes bulged at the crowd. "What the bloody hell has you lot up at this blasted hour?!" he roared.

"Blasted hour?!" Jaggle squawked. "If we could read the sundial right now, it'd be tooting half-past two!"

Bo groaned. "Couldn't the goddesses have blessed me with a sweeter dream?"

"It's not a dream, Father." Ilia bounded onto the patio and pulled him out by the forearm. "Everyone's been awake for hours. Go on, everyone. Tell him."

"I wasted a good hour tryin' ta get back to dreamland," Sera piped up. "Only got off me butt 'cause Link kept scratching at the door."

"No, I wasn't!" Link cried.

"Talking about the cat, honey."

"Oh." Having a creature as magnificent as a cat named after him was the greatest honour Link had ever known, but moments like these did make him question it.

"Shoulda heard the racket the goats were making," said Fado. "Wailin' they were. Thought they were spooked over a mouse or somethin', but then they started eating the darn stable!"

Pergie thrusted a jittery rooster towards the sky. "Look at this poor fella. He wants to caw, but there's no sun to caw at."

"See?" Ilia said. "Even the animals can tell something's off. Jaggle's candle is the least of our evidence."

Bo dragged a hand down his face. "Blimey. What do we do now?"

"You're the mayor!" the crowd shouted.

"I know, I know. Just taking suggestions."

Rusl stepped forward. "No sun means no crops," he said. "We'll have to pickle what we have."

"Leave that to mama's secret brine recipe," Pergie declared.

"Grass won't last either, and neither will straw" Fado lamented. "Might have to slaughter the goats for jerky." Link sighed with the rest of the village. Aside from pumpkin, Ordonian milk and cheese were their biggest exports. Their short-term survival would surely lead to long-term famine. Unless…

Link shot up a hand. "We could ride to Hyrule for help."

Bo shook his head. "We ain't bonded with them yet."

"We will be when I deliver the tribute."

A hand lay on Link's shoulder. Rusl. "Night belongs to the monsters. Just sit tight for a bit."

The goddesses must surely despise Link. They had dangled his deepest desire above him, and day after day he salivated over it, but after the string was finally cut and it landed in his lap, it withered like a horse call. There was no new sunrise to whisk him away. Time had frozen right when it was supposed to fly.

Bo pinched his top chin. "Now we gotta time-keep somehow."

Jaggle hopped from foot to foot, waving the brass holder. "Ooh, ooh, we'll use the candles! Just let me hang up some marked parchment behind it and ring a bell every hour so the whole town knows." Wonderful. Another way to count the emptiness of Link's existence.

"What if we run out?" Uli asked.

The mayor sighed. "Either help arrives, or Hylia save us all."


A/N: Fun fact: As of the drafting of this chapter, the Zelda Wiki says that Sera's cat shares a name with the player character. There's no citation for it and I think the article's author might've misread some of the game's text, but it made for a nice gag in this fic. Idk if it'll ever be corrected but I consider it my sworn duty to immortalise that glorious error.

You probably noticed the 'Part I - Desert the Army' label and tagline. I just want to clarify how this story will be divided. This fic will be structured as a trilogy but all 'books' will be posted in the same fic (because I think it'll be the most convenient for new readers when the sequels are being posted) but separated by short interludes. Each 'book' will have three or more parts. The parts for 'Book 1' of 'The Light Invasion' will go as follows:

PART I - DESERT THE ARMY

PART II - LIFT THE LIGHT

PART III - (it's a secret to everybody)

We won't be reaching the Twilight Realm until Part II (because as you can imagine, it takes a while to get from Ordon to the mirror chamber), but I'm striving to make Part I as exciting as possible. Lots of juicy character conflict between Link and a certain snarky imp. I've already got a backlog of 16 chapters drafted so you can expect fortnightly updates on Friday nights (Australian time). Make sure you don't miss a thing by following/subscribing to this story. I welcome you to comment as well, no matter how short or long! If you don't know where to start, maybe have a crack at this question:

What do you think is going on with Zelda?