Takiya looked out across Alans Bay from her post atop the colonnaded white balcony. The city was quiet in this hour before dawn, almost serene in its sleep. The ocean--white with the illumination of the full moon-- rolled in and out endlessly, its breakers crashing against the seawall with chilling booms. A ponderous night breeze, cool and smelling of salt, caused her wispy white night gown and raven black hair to flutter in the wind. The cold from the marble in the balcony rose up into her bare feet, causing her to shiver.

It was a beautiful sight, this sleeping city. It reminded her of unburdened times as a child when she was full of wonder and the world was one big fairytale where nothing bad happened and everyone was content. She missed the simple pleasures that came from digging her feet into the warm soil of her mother's garden, or playing in the pebble-strewn brook that wound its way through the glade that bordered her father's manse.

But those times were gone, they left her the day that her parents died on the shores of Lake Hylia, murdered and stripped of all their belongings. All of her happiness left her that day, and when Tigrin--her hate, her love, her teacher, her student--died all of her sorrow left her as well. Now all she had was killing.

Tigrin had told her once that whenever their came a time came that she could kill without remorse or guilt it was time to find a new profession. She could have sworn that when her knifepoint found fat Dunkirk in the throat she had almost...enjoyed it. No, she had enjoyed it, and it scared her to death.

Takiya ushered the thoughts from her mind with anger. She must remain focused. Her current employer, a fat merchant named Thravius, had given her the convenience of his massive palace on in the Royal Quarter just so that she could stalk her next quarry with better ease. She was to find a "braggart" who had disgraced Thravius in an inn. He had escaped the city jail before he could be executed, but Thravius still demanded vengeance. All she had to go on was his description and that of his accomplice, a plain-faced woman with a white dress.

So far she had searched without success and now she was convinced that they had left the city. Today she planned to throw their descriptions passed the guards at each gate. It was a long shot, but if she were lucky she would discover the general direction that they were headed and continue from there.

One last kill, and then I'm finished with this profession. She told herself. But what, then, will I have left?

* * *

Evara sneered at the troll-head with disgust, nudging it with her toe. The eyes were glazed over, and the putrid green tongue lolled out of the mouth and touched the floor of Evara's throne room.

"Well done, Strongsword. And you as well, Kara. You have both done well in lifting this curse from our heads." Evara said, nodding at them both in turn. The redheaded Strongsword wore a delighted smile on his face, full of goron pride. Fool, Kara thought, It was my arrow that slew the beast, not that cumbersome chunk of red steel that you call a sword.

The Strongsword knelt on the ground, "It was my honor to serve you, Queen Evara," He said, "but I must return to Death Mountain and my people."

Your people? If you are a Goron you certainly don't look it. Kara thought.

As he stood to leave Evara stopped him, "I received a message from your chieftain, and it is in Goron runes that I cannot read so I surmise that it is for you. It might be that you have some other errand to attend to before you return to the mountains." Evara produced a yellowed parchment and handed it to the swordsman.

He bowed and opened it. He began to read and his face gradually changed until his eyes became serious and his mouth took on a hard line. After he finished he considered for a moment and then looked back to the queen. "I have pressing business, your grace, if you would excuse me." He left the room in a hurry, brushing passed Kara without looking up.

This is curious, she thought. What could have been in that letter?

* * *

A dark wind rises, a storm approaches, an evil looms. The Shaman foretells doom. A new quest I bequeath you, Strongsword. Seek out the stone of blue light, Nayru's tear, evil's bane. The wisdom of the Sage of Light will guide you on your way. He will find you.

The message was short and to the point, none of his masters were much for idleness. By the lyrical tone of this message he guessed that it was Abbai who wrote it. It gave him chills, this talk of evil looming and dark wind rising.

Cory jogged out of the palace at a steady pace, eager to start this new quest for a savior stone. He had no idea that he was being followed.