Chapter 33
Link kicked the pebbles out of his path, watching them spin before letting his gaze fall casually around him as he searched for an escape route. They walked as a group, Zayna and Chitz by his side. They were encircled by soldiers who grinned and chatted to each other, throwing playful curses and friendly wagers. The woman, Milledra, rode ahead slowly, her eyes faced front, her back straight. She carried Link's sword on her back. The little girl hung onto her waist. They had stripped Link and Zayna of all their visible weapons, but the Hero wasn't too perturbed. Hidden in the sole of one boot was a slender, silver dagger. He pressed down with his foot feeling the comforting hard edge and he smiled inwardly, knowing he had at least one thin advantage.
Sunlight curled around the leaves of the trees, giving the appearance of dripping, liquid gold and a light breeze disturbed the twigs and dust by their feet. The guards immediately around them had their weapons trained and ready, their blades coated with rust, their armour trembling with each step. One, a bearded, round fellow who had obviously fooled himself regarding his own size by squeezing into armour that was far too small, prodded at Link with his sword, a grin planted on his face, a challenge in his eyes. They were trapped and Link could see no way out of their predicament.
Panic did not sweep over him though, instead a reassuring calm carried him, and he chose to relax a little, letting the warm air play on his face. He was sure an opportunity would present itself in no time. He did not waste any energy fretting in anxiety over how he had let themselves be captured so easily. Silently, he acknowledged the intelligence that had gone into their captors' scheme.
Zayna, he noticed, did not share his optimism. Her mouth in a tight line, she stared hard at the guards, her hands clenching with frustration as she sought to take vengeance. Link tried to throw her a reassuring glance, but she responded with a scowl in her eyes. He smiled and her expression flared once more. She seemed more frustrated with him than their enemies.
The plump guard prodded again. Link steeled himself, finally tiring of the game. The Hero set his face straight and, flicking his narrowed eyes up to the man, he flexed the muscles in his arm just enough so that they grew and strained against his tunic. No words needed to be said. The man backed away with a gulp, the defiant look in his eyes melting into edgy wariness.
A trick a boy would pull, he knew, but Link realised that they were probably dealing with childlike personalities anyway. Most bandits were. He did not recognise their captors' nationalities and, though they were not Freelander, they could very well be from any one of the many countries that surrounded Hyrule.
The Hero of Time took in a deep breath and shut out the rest of the world. It dissolved away from him, his heart zoning in with a flutter of anticipation.
Zelda?
He had to stop himself from stumbling as her panicked response came.
Link?! Link, where are you? What happened?
Sssh.
He felt her steady herself, and he wanted to smile, proud at the strength of his Queen. His wife.
The two words tingled in his soul, lulling him with happiness so much that he almost would not have cared if death came to him at his captors' hands. Just to know that Zelda was his for one moment in his life was more than enough.
Link felt her smile tickle him. What's happened?
He told her and sensed her thoughts taking on the sharp edge of determination. I'm coming, she said.
Link stopped himself from shaking his head physically. No. They don't want to see us dead. Let me handle this. Trust me.
She nudged him with doubt, but felt her fall away slightly, tasting a slight reluctance in her mood. I trust you, Link. But keep me informed.
I will. Link whispered a smile to her. Go to the town that Chizan mentioned. Stock up on supplies and wait for me.
Relieved that he had heard her voice for even such a short burst of time, he turned his mind to other matters. Clearing his throat, Link raised his hand for attention. "Can we at least know where we are going?" he called, his voice bouncing off of the trees.
Some of the soldiers looked at him with amused eyes, others spoke silently, a ripple of voices whirling around them.
Milledra turned her head slightly. "Are you in a position to ask such questions?"
Link smiled in response. He had to be careful until he was fully aware of the type of people he was dealing with. "It would be a courtesy from a gracious host."
Some of the men smiled and Link heard Milledra laugh softly. Link was glad; if the tension eased they would be more likely to make a mistake. He could feel Zayna's glare upon him, but he ignored it. Chitz scrambled around at his feet, the Imp's short legs struggling to keep up. Wisely, he had not made any motion to speak.
"Where else would the Queen of the Dead go?" the woman asked. "But to the Town of the Dead?"
Queen of the Dead. Town of the Dead. Temple of the Dead. It made sense.
"I take it we won't find Re-Deads there then?" he asked.
Link thought she might laugh at that, but she replied with a serious tone, "This area is the Valley of the Dead. It lies on the border between the Morolak and Freelander land." There was a tug of sadness to her voice that Link found interesting. He was also pleased to have discovered their nationality. "There have been many disputes over the territory. Bloody and brutal. At the moment we are in control. We took advantage of the Freelanders confusion in their war with Hyrule." There was a pause, the soldiers listening intently, pride glowing on their faces. "We hope to make a final push and remove their stain from our lands."
Link was caught by a sense of urgency.
Zelda. The town isn't safe. Tell Chizan that it has been taken by Morolaks. Go to the Temple of the Dead.
He felt her acknowledgement. She asked no questions though he knew she was puzzled.
"Are you working on behalf of your government?" he asked with genuine curiosity.
"No."
"Then why…? What's so important?"
She stopped and turned to him with a glare. "Because I want it, that is all," she said with a snarl. "There's no national pride here. There are no precious minerals here. This isn't about justice or injustice. My family ruled this town for generations. The Freelanders were our slaves. Then they learned the ways of war, the ways of striking back. And they took the town and spread their teachings to the rest of their brethren." She leaned down, her eyes twinkling. "If you've ever tasted what it's like to have power over another person then you'll know that it's an addiction like wine. All I want – and all my companions want – is to taste that again. For ourselves, and for those that will come after us."
Silently, Link was relieved. Had it been an issue of justice he would have had to have taken sides. Though he was now fully prepared to do so even against the Freelanders he had so ably aided at the battle of Narik's Rock, he did not need such complications when he had more important things weighing on his mind. Zelda's throne and Zayna's condition were his priorities now and, in the greater scheme of things, they were far more pressing than a land dispute, no matter how justified that dispute may be.
Still. With no frame of reference except owning a sword, a horse and a hut, he was puzzled at Milledra's reasons. It must have showed on his face.
"You wouldn't understand," she said with a hint of contempt, turning away.
Silence. Link noticed that the soldiers were waiting for him to speak as though they were witnessing some great debate. He wondered if they knew who he was. His posture, his hair, the markings on his face were now altered in such a way that only those who looked closely and knew what they were searching for would have recognised him.
An obvious thought came to him. "What do you want with us?" He had asked the question before, but now he felt more confident of an answer after building a rapport, however forced it may have been.
The woman did not turn back. "We need you to do something for us," she said. "The Temple of the Dead lies north of here. Inside, is the Mourner's Crown. It is recognised as a holy relic by the Freelanders. Whoever possesses it is given sovereignty."
Suspicion mixed with hope in Link's heart. Was it mere coincidence that they wanted something that was located in the exact place that they were intending to go? Idly, he rubbed the back of one hand, the hand that bore the mark of the Triforce of Courage. Somehow he thought it might guide him, but it stayed cold and silent.
"Why us?" Again, a doubt creased his soul. Did the woman know who he was?
"We observed you training," she said. The words made Link flinch. Had he been off his guard so easily? "We believe you are well prepared for this task."
"Why not do it yourselves?" He let his gaze take them all in. "You seem much more equipped than us. And you have the weight of numbers on your side."
Finally, she did turn back to him, and Link caught the earnest look in her eyes. "This task only has need of a few. We work well as a unit, but as individuals we are lacking." She shrugged, an apologetic look on her face that almost made Link pity her. Almost. "Even I am not good enough."
Zayna stepped forward, surprising him. "What makes you think we will do what you want?" she spat.
Milledra studied his apprentice with a keen interest. Link swallowed, feeling uncomfortable at the knowing glow in the woman's eyes. This was all far too coincidental. There was another agenda here, he was sure of it. Whether these people were agents of Cyle or whether they were acting independently, they still had some other purpose in mind for him and his friends.
"We will discuss that later," Milledra answered with a tone of finality. With a flick of her hand, she motioned the soldiers to begin the march once more. Turning her horse away from them, she trotted ahead.
Link stopped short. "No," he said, his voice easy and carefree. "Let's discuss this now. Let's discuss why such a weak and rag tag army – though I hesitate to use the term – needs others to do what they themselves won't. Afraid to get your hands dirty?"
Milledra stiffened and hissed. The guards around Link bristled, some spitting with low growls. The Hero smiled back at them. The jibe had been intentional; he needed to know how they would react so that he could plan ahead. Her dark blue armour jingling, the woman disembarked from her horse and slowly made her way to where he stood, her feet crunching the dead leaves and twigs. With a jerk of her head she motioned to two of her soldiers to grab Link from either side. He hung from their hands, feeling their fingers dig into his wrists. He could have let himself away there, to-and-fro, and then used the momentum to swing up with a quick kick, but knew he would be quickly overpowered. Besides, he had another plan in his mind, and he remained patient.
Link waited as his eyes met hers, feeling her hot stare drill into his face. The breeze blew at her, scattering her hair. A faint trace of her exotic scent reached. She had wealth then, to be able to afford such luxuries. And if money alone was not enough to satiate her, then her soul must truly be twisted. The sour taste of disgust rolled in his mouth. The Hero felt the silent anticipation around him, a hushed weight in the air.
Milledra pulled off one of her gloves with her teeth, her eyes not leaving Link for an instant. He could feel Zayna tense beside him, but knew she would not interfere unless she had to.
With a snarl and a flash of emerald anger from her green eyes, the woman slapped the Hero in the face, snapping his head to one side. Letting the hot sting flood over his cheek, Link turned his head back, a wide grin planted on his face. She bared her teeth, infuriated, and cracked him with another blow, this time on the other cheek. He turned back with a chuckle.
There was a slight tremor of fear that he would push her too far, but Link still felt confident. She had wanted to humiliate him in front of her followers in order to flex her authority, but now he was undermining that. He caught the looks of confusion on the faces of some of the soldiers. His earlier assessment was correct – they were nothing more than children. What else but an immature personality would take pleasure in grinding others under their heel? He could use this to his advantage.
Another slap came, harder now and Link decided to let them have what they wanted. He slumped theatrically, his feet slipping in the ground, his head rolling. Milledra stepped back, satisfied and victorious.
"Please…no more," he croaked. She looked around at her companions with a grin and they responded with a cheer, their weapons raised. They released him, his wrists tingling from the sudden loss of pressure, and inwardly Link laughed. The victory had been his and they had not realised it. Underestimating the Hero of Time would be their fatal error. They were so simple.
A chant erupted, sincere joy being set free. "Milledra! Milledra! Long live the Queen of the Dead!"
He looked up, rubbing his arms as he noticed the knowing look in his apprentice's eyes.
Link and Zayna exchanged meaningful glances as they let themselves be pushed along.
*
"I still do not understand how you could have known about a Morolak occupation in advance."
Chizan's puzzled voice floated over to Zelda as she hurried them through the forest, the leaves of the trees stroking against her face and leaving behind the light aroma of grass that reminded her of springtime in Hyrule. The sunlight filtered through the tall branches in a lazy haze, but there was enough light for them to see and sped on, Chizan wary and cautious, Tessa confused, but capitulating. Zelda had taken them off the path, deciding instead to use the cover of the forest to go round straight to the Temple. She had told them that Link and the others had been captured, guiltily making up a tale about witnessing the even during the night.
"I just know, Chizan," she said, keeping her tone patient. "I can't explain it."
"Magic?" he spat.
Zelda frowned, not entirely sure how to answer. Her bond with Link certainly felt magical, but it did not have that suffocating sense of power she had always associated with using the art. The dark art, she now realised. Chizan's preaching must have punctured through all her traditional learning.
"No, don't worry," she replied, turning her head to him. She saw the questioning look in his eyes. "Some things just can't be explained, Your Highness."
His expression softened, seemingly willing to accept this. He must be well-acquainted with the mysteries of the world.
"Wait!" Zelda skidded to a halt at the urgency in his voice. His hand came to rest on her shoulder, as if afraid she would bolt regardless. "Look ahead. The light."
Narrowing her eyes, she peered forward trying to make out what he had seen. Someway ahead of her the sun's rays widened, signifying an area clear of trees. She felt Chizan sidle up beside her, felt his warm breath as he came close.
"A clearing," she said. "Do you think it's a camp?"
He shrugged. "I think someone's there."
She looked closer and caught the flicker of movement. The trees barred her vision, but she could just make out the outline of two figures, one on the ground, the other standing.
"Trouble?" she asked.
"Even if it is," he replied. "Should we even reveal ourselves to what may be potential enemies?"
She mulled over his words for a moment, but then heard the metallic breath of a sword cutting the air and the moan of a fearful whimper. Her mind was set.
Zelda bounded over to the clearing, her weapon ready and her ire raised as Chizan and Tessa followed suit. The trees parted to reveal a Freelander woman, fear plastering her face, on her knees as a Morolak man stood over her with his sword. The Queen did not need to see anything else. Falling back on her Sheikah training, she moved as a blur and, with one single leap she caught up to the aggressor. Her temples throbbing with anger, she curled one arm around his neck and brought her sword up to his face. She jerked back making him gurgle and drop his blade.
Chizan was upon him in an instant, his face curled in an uncharacteristic snarl. Tessa crouched beside the fallen woman, the farmgirl enfolding the Freelander in her arms.
"Coward," the Prince barked. "Is your honour so low that you would stoop to such an act?"
Zelda felt herself frown. Chizan had obviously come to a specific conclusion about the nature of the attack, but one glance at the woman's unruffled clothes told Zelda that there was more than meets the eyes here.
"Wait," the man gasped, clutching at the Queen's arm. "Hear me out."
Chizan shook his head, his sword ready. "We will not let our ears be filled with your lies."
Zelda saw it. A sly look had flashed over the Freelander woman's face for just an instant.
"Please," the Morolak choked.
She let him go and the Prince's purple eyes widened in shock, a trace of betrayal shining through. She took a step back, meeting his gaze with regal defiance. She was not going to let him question her. He saw the look, but still moved to speak, "Your Highness. I don't understand."
"We need to be clear on what's happening here, Chizan," she answered. Zelda watched the Morolak soldier rub his throat and saw the woman flinch nervously.
He held out his hands. "I think it's clear. Our eyes saw everything."
"No," she replied. "Our minds read into what our eyes saw." She glanced over at the man. "Speak."
The Morolak cocked his head from side to side as he tried to bring feeling back into his neck muscles. "The woman," he said, throwing the Freelander a hateful glance. "Entered my home and attempted to rob me. My child – a boy of just four – tried to stop her and she snapped his arm." His chest heaved as the memories threatened to overwhelm him. "My family live on the border. We have always respected the Freelanders and have never entered into disputes with them. What she did was unjust."
The Prince snorted. "You should have thought of a better tale, Morolak," he said. "A Freelander would do no such thing."
Zelda could feel Chizan's anger like something physical in the very air. She had to calm herself, her hands fidgeting with unleashed energy. The image of the man, his sword waving, as he threatened the woman was etched in her mind and it was clouding her judgement. She sensed the Prince's desire for vengeance and felt it run in her veins too, but she closed her eyes, trying to draw on all her knowledge as a diplomat.
Her eyes met the face of the fallen woman. "What say you?" she asked softly. "Is this the truth?"
Chizan shook his head in exasperation. "You are not seriously considering his words are you?" She had to take a step back, so unused she was to hearing anger in his voice. "The man is clearly evil. And he tried to dishonour a good woman."
Zelda realised that he was letting national loyalty get the better of him. She tried to appeal to his good sense. "The world is not divided into good and evil, Chizan," she said, slowly letting her words sink in. "We all have that capacity to choose between the two within ourselves. Sometimes situations force us to do what we usually would not." She paused again, watched as his face crinkled in thought. "You of all people should know that." Zelda turned back to the woman. "Explain yourself. Is what he says true? Do not be afraid, he cannot harm you with us here."
The woman sniffed, pushing herself out of Tessa's arms. "I will not dishonour my Prince with deception," she answered, fixing her eyes on Chizan. "What he says is true." She held up a hand to stop the Prince from speaking. "My family own a valuable heirloom. My father gave it to the Morolak as a gift. As you must know, times are harsh after the war. We needed something to trade with and I asked for it back. My request was refused."
Zelda glanced over at the man. "It is rude to return a gift," he said simply with a shrug.
"So I decided to take it back," the woman finished.
"And his child?" Zelda asked.
The Freelander hardened her gaze, but offered no response.
Chizan was pacing now. "It matters not about his child," he said. His words made Zelda raise her eyebrows. The Prince was being far too partisan here. It was blinding him, making him think and speak in a manner he usually would not. "It was unjust of him not to return the gift in her hour of need."
"Chizan." Zelda said in a placating tone. "Sometimes we must stand up for justice even if it is against our own selves or those near to us."
"You would side with the Morolak even though the Freelanders aided you in your struggle against your former husband?" Chizan countered. His face was strained and she guessed that deep down he knew that he was fighting a losing battle.
His words were unfair so she ignored them, turning back to the Morolak instead. The man looked back at her with calm eyes.
"We know who you are," he said. "You are the Queen of Hyrule." Zelda tensed, wondering where this was leading. "And the possessor of the Triforce of Wisdom. We ask for your intercession. Judge between us – we will accept your decision."
Zelda looked at the Freelander woman who responded with a small nod. All eyes turned to her now and she felt the weight of their expectation. She had judged in disputes many times in the past as part of her royal duties, but every single time had left her shaken, questioning whether she had done the right thing or not. She knew enough not to let that anxiety show on her face now though. She donned the heavy cloak of judgement and felt that familiar tingle. That terrible, yet sobering sense that she held people's fates – no matter how trivial – in her hands. It was both a temptation and a freedom, a responsibility and a curse.
The image returned to her mind. The Morolak, stalking the fallen, fearful woman with his sword. Her heart responded to it instinctively, a surge of anger that could only be satiated with vengeance. She shook it away. There could be no judgement based on solely that. She had not seen the other images, the woman skulking through the Morolak's home, the wet snap of a child's arm. It was easy to be deceived by only knowing half the story. It was easy to be misled by relying only on her own eyes as proof. Everything had to be taken into consideration, so long as she unearthed as many facts as possible. From there, she had to rely on her own self to sharply discriminate between the two parties and not let herself be tugged by outside influences, whether it be words in her ear, promises of bribes or, as it was in this case, Chizan's demanding stare. She felt the symbol of the Triforce of Wisdom tingle on her hand and she smiled, encouraged.
Zelda eyed the man now, noticing the rich finery to his clothes. "You have wealth?" she asked.
He gave an embarrassed shrug. "I do not need to ask others for assistance," he said simply.
She nodded, grateful that the solution had presented itself. Her mind tracked through all possible answers before she finally settled on one that satisfied her.
"This is my judgement," she said, as the others craned forward to listen. "You," she looked at the Morolak. "Will keep the heirloom as payment for your son's injury and you," here she turned to the Freelander. "Shall indenture yourself to his family. You will work for him in whatever task he deems you fit for." Her eyes flicked to the man. "I trust you will be honourable in this regard?"
He bowed. "I will, Your Highness."
Zelda kept her gaze on him. "In return for her services, you will pay her an adequate stipend – one that is enough to for her to feed her family with." She looked around at all of them. "Does anyone have any objections?"
"No," the Morolak answered. "I accept your decree." He held out his hand with a smile. "I am Salin."
She took it and smiled in response.
"I accept as well," the Freelander woman said. She turned to her opponent. "I will…tend to your son. If both you and he accept it."
Salin considered this for a moment, unsure of his answer. Zelda wondered how gracious he would be, though she could not really blame him if he turned the request down.
Noticing that he was now the centre of attention, Salin continued, "My boy is forgiving," he said with a smile. There was still a trace of doubt there and Zelda hoped it would pass over time. "We can learn a lot from children."
Taking the Morolak's lead, the Freelander shifted her attention back to the Queen and said, "My name is Nadline."
Zelda grinned, relieved. She wanted to float away as her burden lifted. The very effort of passing judgement had left her exhausted. Her eyes flicked to the Prince. He smiled and gave a short bow.
"You shame me," he said. "Even though I am many summers your elder."
The Queen frowned. Chizan looked no more than thirty-five summers old. "How old are you?" she asked. Her confusion increased as she heard Tessa try to hide a giggle.
Before he could respond, the Morolak cut in. "Your Highness," he said. "I would be honoured if you would grace my family with your presence."
She looked over at Chizan. "An invitation should not be turned down," he said with a shrug. With a nod, she realised that without Zayna there was little point in them heading to the Temple. This way, she would still be close to Link if he needed her. She just hoped he would be able to escape from his mysterious captors soon.
"Does this invitation extend to Nadline too?" Zelda asked.
Salin straightened his back, his tongue rolling around his cheek in thought.
"I would like an opportunity to apologise to your son," the Freelander woman said.
A small smile touched his face. "Then so be it."
Zelda grinned. "Good!" she said with genuine warmth. "On behalf of my companions, I accept your invitation."
*
They sat opposite each other at the table, Zayna still not quite clear why Milledra had summoned her here whilst leaving Link and the Imp back at the cell. They were in the Town of the Dead now, dwelling in the Morolak woman's home. The house was lavish, silk curtains draping the walls, delicate carvings lining the ceilings and plush carpets coating the floors. Paintings hung on walls within golden frames, Zayna noticing that they depicted children and smiling adults. She wondered if they were all representations of Milledra's family. Zayna guessed that the house should evoke a sense of warmth in her, a homely feeling of togetherness, but all she had was a chilled heart. She did not like to be held captive by anyone. It had happened enough times in her life.
"A nice place for a freedom fighter," Zayna said as the woman flicked a small wooden cup towards her. It spun across the table before whirling to a stop in front of her. She glanced at it long enough to see that it was just water. "Shouldn't you be in less comfortable quarters? Solidarity with your people?"
Milledra studied her impassively, taking a slow sip from her own cup. "Who said I was a freedom fighter?"
Zayna looked away, letting her gaze trail around the room. A fire crackled nearby, the long flames casting a molten glow around them as the wooden logs collapsed in on themselves. The faint aroma of smoke, charred and bitter, tinged the air. "No one," she replied. "I remember. You're just wanting to taste power. Very…convenient."
The Morolak woman raised an eyebrow. She was clad in a woollen, cream-coloured dress. Zayna wanted to laugh. From warrior Queen to woman of the house. The change was quite drastic.
"You don't think that's a believable motivation?" Milledra said, leaning back in chair making it creak.
Zayna shrugged. "I wouldn't know," she replied. "It seems to satisfy you, though."
"Yes," the Morolak answered simply with a small smile. She tapped her fingers on her cup, watching Zayna intently once more. The Key picked her own drink up, just to have something to do and so she could avoid the other woman's gaze. It was uncomfortable, but she knew there was little she could do about it. She had no power in this conversation.
"Did you take this from a Freelander?" Zayna asked.
"This house?" Milledra replied. "No. This was always in my family's possession. Even after the Freelanders gained their independence, they let us stay here."
Zayna could not resist. "And you return the favour so well."
The other woman ignored her words. "Do you remember," the Morolak continued, "a little jousting festival that occurred in Hyrule…oh…say five summers ago?"
Zayna let her mind float back. A memory did tug at her, a celebration that Cyle had organised in honour of his Queen. She had sat with the other Advisors near Zelda's side, watching her laugh as the jousters and charged at one another, their weapons clanging in the air, the roar of the crowd voicing their approval. It had been held on Hyrule Field under a hot sun. Many had attended, letting coloured ribbons stream behind them as they enjoyed the spectacle. Happier times.
"Vaguely," Zayna answered.
Milledra smiled. "You took part," she said. "A challenge to the crowd. They asked for two maidens to come forward and test their skills."
Zayna remembered. The other Advisors had pushed at her gently, their words begging her to accept. Even Zelda had smiled at her, encouraging her to enter. Zayna had given in, outwardly showing reluctance, but inwardly relishing the challenge. "Yes," she said, unable to keep the grin off of her face. "I won."
"That you did," Milledra answered. "I know this because your other opponent that day was me."
Zayna's grinned widened and her eyes flicked up to the Morolak's face, connecting in the joy of a shared memory. Milledra smiled back. Then, the reality of her situation sank in to the Key's mind. She tried, unsuccessfully, to scowl.
The Queen of the Dead laughed. "I know what you are," she whispered.
Zayna waited, the icy fingers of dread prodding at the edge of her mind. They remained like that, their gazes locked, seconds feeling stretched as each waited for the other to speak.
Finally, Milledra broke the deadlock. "I know you are the Key."
Swallowing, Zayna did not even bother to wonder how she had discovered this. "What of it?"
"I know that you go to the Temple of the Dead," the Morolak continued. "To try and rid yourself of this…burden."
"Yes," Zayna snapped, losing patience. "So?"
Milledra kept her face neutral. "Why?"
The fire hissed in the background, but to Zayna it was nothing more than a dull sound at the back of her mind. "Why what?"
"Why don't you want to be the Key?"
There was a look of intensity in the Morolak woman's eyes that made everything else in Zayna's vision blur and fade away. It was almost hypnotic and it dizzied her. "Why would anyone want such a curse?" she retorted.
Milledra stood up and slowly walked towards her. Zayna tensed, though she saw no threat in the woman's posture. She felt her walk around to the back of her chair and stop. The Morolak's hands came to rest on Zayna's shoulders. She had to bite down to resist the urge to shake them off. There was no use in provoking her further.
"Have you ever wanted to help people?" Milledra asked in a whisper.
"Yes, of course."
"Of course." The woman's voice was thick with an emotion Zayna could not quite place. "Have you ever wanted to help someone, but fail?"
She did not want to let the woman's words affect her, but Zayna still felt her mind trawl through her memories to find some sort of reference. She shook her head.
"Ah," Milledra continued, leaning down so that her face was by Zayna's ear. She could feel the Morolak's breath on her cheek, smelt the spicy aroma of it, like the incense that burned in temples. "What about your mother? What if you could have saved her from death?"
Zayna felt a twinge in her heart at the mention of her mother, but it was smothered by the spark of anger. "Why are you asking me all this?" she said, her voice growling.
Milledra stood up straight again, her hands lifting from Zayna's shoulders. "You have not thought this through," she said, her words slick with a sense of cunning intelligence. "You haven't considered the power that you have."
Zayna felt the nag of confusion in her mind, but she pushed it down. "Unlike you, power does not interest me."
"Oh?" Milledra answered, amusement floating in her tone. "Here's a proposition. You have the ability to open the Gate. Once you do so, you can enter the Sacred Realm…and become Joined yourself." She paused as Zayna felt her skin grow cold. "Imagine the power. You could alter reality. Help all the people of the world, right all wrongs and let everyone be truly happy. Forever." She licked her lips, placing her hands down on the table. Zayna found her breath growing short, a cold sweat breaking on her face. Milledra fixed her with a stare so strong that Zayna wanted to flinch. "You could go back in time and save your mother."
Hope fought in Zayna's heart, fighting to break free with ferocity. It was tempered by confusion, by the numbing feeling that something was not quite right. Her mind spun.
"All you would have to do," the Queen of the Dead continued, her voice dripping with honey. "Is to open the Gate. Kill the Hylian King. And slaughter the Sacred Realm's Emperor." Milledra let the words wash over Zayna's mind, prodding, tugging, desperately enticing. "So simple."
So simple. Zayna stood up abruptly, almost falling away from the table in dizziness. She wanted to speak, but her tongue felt thick, like there was iron coating her mouth. She saw Milledra watching her with detachment, not offering any aid.
"I see you need time to think things over," the Morolak said. Zayna could not help notice the sense of satisfaction lacing her words. The Queen of the Dead clapped her hands and a pair of guards appeared out of nowhere, their hands clutching at the Key, steadying her as she shook. "You may go now. But please do think about it. Think of all the good you can accomplish."
Zayna dragged her feet, letting herself be taken back to her cell. As she came out of the house into the cool air, she shivered. The world seemed a lot different now. A whisper hung in her heart, a sly voice that nudged at her. Remake it all, it said. Remake it in your own image. Her mind whirled, and tears came, though whether it was from grief or hope she could not tell.
A seed had been planted in her soul. A seed she knew that would do nothing but sprout and grow from here on in.