Disclaimer:The Legend of Zeldais property ofNintendo and Shigeru Miyamoto, all rights reserved. I am in no way affiliated with these companies, or any legal proceedings concerning The Legend of Zelda. This story has been written purely out of enjoyment, and is not intended to make a profit, steal ideas, or offend anybody. Any similarities between my work and anyone else's is purely coincidental.
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"Elements of Hyrule" — Chapter Ten: Dreams and Prophecies
By The Last Princess of Hyrule
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All she could see for miles upon miles was total empty darkness. It was not like the darkness of late night where stars still shown overhead, or even the black of shadows when one could still sense objects hidden from sight. This darkness was complete, as if someone had taken away everything that had ever existed, leaving only utter black. Over her head, she could sense clouds billowing, and as she looked up, a deep rumbling filled her ears. The clouds bumbled over each other blindly, crashing with earsplitting bangs into other clouds, each time louder than the last. The clouds were product of some evil . . . No, they were pure evil-the essence of evil itself.
Their presence over her head filled her with the most awesome fear, consuming all of her and leaving her to feel helpless. It felt as though nothing could beat this terrible evil. There was nothing in existence in this entire world that could do so . . . But in another world, there was an object that could bring salvation. She closed her eyes to the dark clouds and spoke quiet words in an ancient tongue under her breath. "Aisrdce Tsuin de Aeqao . . . Aisrdce Tsuin de Phyráe . . . Aisrdce Tsuin de Fuirst . . . Udliin Riuww Icu Htufre . . ."
But what happened as result of the ancient spell was neither what she had hoped or expected. Straight from the center of the forest shot a bolt of piercing white light. It radiated, a pillar of solid purity, product of all that was good, from the heart of the forest. Within the beam of light, a confident figure dressed in the emerald green of the trees around him, stood with a calm look on his face. He held out his hands to her, a glittering green object cupped within them. The dark clouds pressed in on all sides, trying to smother the man and the light, but neither even flinched, both shining strong. The darkness could not taint them, she saw, no matter how hard it tried.
The clouds screamed in frustration, and their angry tears became drops of fire, falling to the forest beneath. The rain of flames showered the trees, catching with ease and spreading almost instantly. Fire engulfed the forest, its horrible blaze clawing at the sky. The light began to fade, power dwindling as the living forest twisted into death. The man within no longer looked secure but worried, a vision of terrible fear overtaking his visage. Then, a cold, maniacal laugh rang out, louder than the rumbling of the dark clouds overhead, louder than the burning forest, even louder than the powerful hum of the light.
She and the man looked around wildly, trying to find the source of the sound, but with no success. The laughter grew stronger and the fire burned brighter until the light from the forest flickered and went out, the man disappearing with it. Everything became black and silent again, perfectly still for several minutes. Then, two red eyes appeared, frightening against the black void. Slowly, they came closer and the laugh came again until . . .
"Impa!"
The terrified scream shattered the peaceful, silent night and the nightmare was abruptly ended. The girl it had been tormenting shot up in bed, panting and shaking with fear. Her dark sapphire eyes were wide and her body drenched in cold sweat. She was shivering, a combination of fear and a cool breeze across her body.
There was a loud creak as a pair of heavy, ornate oak doors across from the magnificent four-poster bed was flung open. Though it was very dark, the young occupant of the bed could make out the lean silhouette of her beloved caretaker.
"Impa?" she called quietly.
"I'm here, Zelda," answered the form with a warm, compassionate voice, the voice of a patient but worried woman. She walked in and sat down on the bed, muttering something under her breath. The candle next the Zelda flickered into life, a tiny flame appearing on the wick. "What happened?"
"I had another nightmare," the girl replied, her body convulsing. "The same one as last night." Her light blonde hair was a tousled mess and the young woman smoothed it soothingly with one hand, the other clenched in her lap. "I can't seem to stop having it."
Impa unclenched her hand, continuing to pet the child's hair. The warm candlelight fell across her tanned skin, illuminating it with a healthy glow. Impa looked to the door, her short, slate-gray ponytail coming into Zelda's field of view. The girl could remember it being much longer, only a year before, a long braid down the caretaker's back just begging to be pulled. Impa turned back to her charge. "Want to tell me about it?"
Zelda explained slowly, a serious expression clouding her features as she struggled to remember every detail in its entirety.
"It sounds like the dream is progressing," Impa said when Zelda had finished. "You seem to see more and more of it every night."
Zelda nodded. "And I've been having this dream every night for the last month." She looked down at her lap, rubbing her hands together nervously. "I think it might be a prophecy."
Impa's hand stopped and fell to rest on the girl's shoulder. "A prophecy?" Impa repeated, her ruby eyes glittering in the light. An unfamiliar emotion clouded them, a mix between concern and amazement.
"Yes," Zelda assured her caretaker, looking hopefully at the woman. "What does it mean?"
Impa was silent for a long moment, overcome with shock that the young princess would think she was seeing a prophecy. Being a Sheikah, Impa knew a lot about prophecies and the workings of the mind. Sheikah possessed great mental powers, among them the ability to prophesize, and Zelda had just described an excellent example of seeing a prophecy in one's dreams. Impa looked back at Zelda with a serious look on her face. Whenever a person had a vision, it was most often only they who could decipher its meaning. The messages of visions focused on not only items one saw, but feelings as well, interlaced within the dream that the recipient cannot always describe to their proper extent.
"What do you think?" Impa asked.
"I don't know." Zelda looked sullen.
"You must have some idea what your dreams mean," Impa reasoned, "otherwise you wouldn't think they were a prophecy."
Zelda fell silent for a moment, working through the dynamics of the dream in her head. "I think something bad is going to happen . . . I keep feeling scared . . . The dark clouds are foreboding, the way they hover over the land . . . like they had some message or warning to give . . ." Zelda scrunched up her face, struggling through the other feelings jumbled up inside her. "Then the light and the man . . . I think they have something to do with the forest they were coming from . . . like they might actually come . . . and the red eyes . . . I'm sure they symbolize evil . . ." Zelda trailed off, putting the pieces together. "The darkness of the clouds and the evil eyes . . . I think they represent Ganondorf . . ."
"Really?" Impa asked with interest. "Why him?"
"He's not a good person," Zelda declared.
"What makes you say that?" asked Impa. She agreed whole-heartedly with the princess, though she had not known of these feelings until this moment. Impa had always sensed some dislike towards Ganondorf on Zelda's part, but never once thought it could be this deep. Zelda had never liked the Gerudo, from the first day she met him, as a very young child of only two, to now. "How is he any different from any of the other knights?"
"He's a liar," Zelda said with such certainty that Impa knew she had been feeling this way for quite some time. "I think I should tell Father about my prophecy in the morning." Impa nodded. "Ganondorf swears truth to Father," Zelda went on, "but I'm sure he's planning something . . . something terrible . . ."
"Such as?"
Zelda's eyes narrowed. "You don't believe me?" she demanded hotly.
Impa laughed. "Of course I believe you, Zelda. I just want to know if you have any facts to support this feeling of yours. If you're going to present this to your father, you should have some evidence."
"Oh." Zelda looked away, feeling very much like a reprimanded child. "What should I say?"
Impa opened her mouth, but was cut of by a gaping yawn. "I don't know. Why don't we talk about it in the morning, all right? I'm too tired to think right now. I'm going to go back to bed."
"What? You're going?" Zelda's eyes, which had been beginning to droop, suddenly shot wide open. "Don't leave me!"
"What are you afraid of? That the nightmare will come back?" Impa started to rise, but Zelda caught her wrist and clung to it. Her face was white and desperate.
"It will, it will! I know it will!" Her face contorted with fear. "Please," she begged. "Please don't go!"
Impa sighed and sat down on the bed. Sure, she believed that the princess was being completely irrational, but Impa could not help the twinge of worry in the back of her mind. Zelda was not one to be so worked up over nothing, so this nightmare must surely be much worse than she described it to be if she was this frightened. "All right. I'll just stay right here while you go back to sleep." The caretaker took her candle, made her way to the other side of the bed, and sat down. "I won't move until you get up in the morning."
Zelda looked skeptical, but lay down and closed her eyes. Impa blew out the candle and leaned up against the ornate headrest, watching the gentle rise and fall of the young princess's chest. Outside there were no stars and dead air hung over the town.
The Sheikah could remember with perfect clarity the last time such a night had transpired. It had been the night the old king, Clarence, had been stuck down by an assassin. The same night was said to be the one that sparked the Great War. Nights like this often meant cruel twists of fate.
Impa shook the superstitious thoughts out of her head. It was stupid to think anything of any consequence was going to happen that night. The caretaker drifted into sleep, not knowing how wrong she was.
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An hour before dawn, the door to an inn was thrown open, yellow light piercing the night outside. The inn was squeezed tight between two other buildings of similar make—wooden beams, thatched roofs, and a heavy quantity of off-white plaster. The inn had two stories, eight rooms, a kitchen, and a common room. The Three Gems housed the most variety of passersby, from poor paupers to rich lords, and there was almost never a time when more than one room was vacant. The family that ran the inn, a middle-aged couple with six children and a seventh on the way, were a comely bunch and quite charitable. It was not often that they refused someone.
That night, however, was an oddity, for one woman was not welcome. "We'll have none of your sorceress ways here," said the owner, escorting a woman in her late twenties with long jet-black hair politely, but firmly, out the door and onto the street. Her bags were kicked out after and the door slammed closed, cutting off the light. However, the woman had no need for light, for she was completely blind.
With a heavy sigh, the young woman bent down and felt out the locations of her things. From one of the bags she withdrew a silver staff. About five and a half feet tall, the staff was topped with an ornate pearl set directly in the silver and decorated with several sharp symbols. The woman picked up her bags and, holding the staff out in front of her, made her way down the winding streets of the town and into the square.
"Sunrise will be soon," she said to herself as she reached the center fountain, which gushed water to no end in an elaborate pattern arching into the air. The centerpiece was the images of three perfect women, each holding, cupped in their hands, a small triangle. The water sprouted from the tops of their heads and the tips of the triangles. "No more than an hour, I believe."
The square was utterly deserted. Not even the normal company of palace guards paced the streets on the night watch. It was only the blind woman and the fountain with the three goddesses as the Hylian sun slowly peeked over the horizon and climbed into the sky. As soon as she felt its first rays touch her back, the woman stood, gathered her bags, and made her way to the castle. No one told her the way, no one offered to lead here, and there were no sounds for her to follow but she strode along the cobblestone path with the confidence of a person with perfect sight.
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"I'll tell you for the last time, then I'm going to make you leave. The king is not accepting visitors, especially not those he doesn't know, and even less so from someone without formal invitation."
The young woman stood before a pair of castle guards. While she looked completely calm, the men were flustered and red in the face, having spent a considerable amount of the morning attempting to convince one intensely stubborn woman that she was not allowed into the palace.
The blind woman smiled. "I'll explain again for you, since you apparently haven't heard me correctly. I am Havieze of Hylia. I have come to the castle with news regarding a prophecy I am sure of which the King James of Hyrule will be most interested. I am hardly a stranger."
The first guard sighed. "I'm sure, lady. I'll bet you and His Majesty are great friends."
"I would hardly say that," Havieze replied, her grin widening. "He was unconscious the last time I was here."
The guards exchanged looks. Both were convinced that the young woman was not right in the head, but there was no way to make her leave.
"What are you talking about?" the second guard asked, hoping she might become offended and leave.
"You must be too young to remember, but almost ten years ago, when King James of Hyrule was only Crown Prince James, an assassin snuck into the castle and tried to kill the Royal Family. He succeeded in taking down the late King Clarence of Hyrule and struck young James with a fatal blow before the assassin was killed. I arrived a few minutes later and was escorted to James by his wife at the time, the late Princess Liana of Hyrule. The prince was lucky I could save his life. A little later and he would have died in a pool of his father's blood." Through it was a tale of murder and dark intent, the smile never faded from Havieze's face. She seemed to find the matter almost comical. The young woman faced the guards without saying another word, apparently expecting some sort of response. The guards had none to give.
"And the purpose of this tale . . . ?" the first guard offered, hoping to get her to the point.
Havieze crossed her arms, but her jovial countenance never flickered. "If I hadn't been delayed by a pair of guards denying me access to the castle, I would have gotten to James of Hyrule before he lost consciousness, which would have saved me a lot of energy and there would have been far lower risk of death as he was healed."
The guards looked at each other again. The moral of the tale was clear as crystal—by delaying the young woman, they could inadvertently be responsible for a major catastrophe. However, their orders specified that no one without a formal invite be allowed into the castle. Ambassadors from the provinces of the Gerudo far to the west were currently in residence at the palace, but for what reason, the guards had not been told. All they knew was that it was very important and no one was to be disturbed by uninvited guests.
"I'm sorry, lady," said the first guard again, "but we can't let you in."
Havieze crossed her arms defiantly. "Where's your commander? I want to speak with him."
"He's busy."
"No, actually, I'm not."
The two guards turned around to find their commander, a blonde knight in his late thirties with sparkling mahogany eyes and gleaming iron armor, stood a few feet behind them, having just come from the castle. He was smiling at the scene as if it were amusing, though Havieze was not entertained in the least bit.
The guards inclined their heads in respect. "Sir Rommell," they muttered.
Havieze scowled. It was amazing how quickly she had gone from high spirits to a frowning countenance. Sir Rommell looked the blind woman up and down before asking the second guard what was going on.
"This woman demands entrance to the castle," he explained. He whispered something in Sir Rommell's ear.
"I would like to speak with King James of Hyrule," Havieze said again. "I have news regarding something I am quite sure he would be interested in."
"And what might that be?" Rommell asked, starting to agree that Havieze was crazy.
"That," Havieze answered in a sharp voice, "is none of your business."
Rommell held up his hands in mock defeat. "I apologize, my lady." He took a short bow. "I didn't mean to offend you."
Havieze's scowl deepened.
"Well, I guess I could let you speak to His Majesty for a few minutes," Rommell declared. "It will be a little while before the ambassadors awake."
"Are you sure that's wise, sir?" whispered the first guard. "She might be an assassin."
"I'll be with her the whole time," Rommell replied. "Besides, do you think I'm actually going to take her to see the king?"
"Well?" said Havieze insistently, tapping her staff on the hard-packed earth. "Shall we go?"
"Of course," Rommell said with another bow. "Do you need any help?" he added, noticing her blindness. "A guide or something?"
"No," snapped Havieze, who had taken an instant dislike to the blonde knight. "I can follow you just fine."
"Very well," replied Rommell. He turned back to the castle. "This way."
The two guards stepped aside as Rommell and Havieze passed under the stone arch of the inner wall. Armored men atop the allure looked down at them in confusion, for only the royal guard, known as the Silver Watch, and the Gerudo ambassadors were being let inside the inner wall onto the palace green. Rommell and Havieze made their way up the dirt path to a pair of heavy mahogany doors. Two guards in front saluted smartly when they spotted Rommell coming up shallow granite stairs to where they waited. They stood erect, allowing the knight and Havieze to enter the castle, whose doors had been opened to let in the cool morning air.
The immense marble foyer echoed with the tiny clicks of their shoes on the floor. Straight ahead was a wide staircase covered with a red velvet carpet embroidered with flawless gold thread lining. Two her far left and right opened several high-arched hallways, glittering with blazon decorations of Hylian greatness. Closer to her were multiple smaller doors, leading to what she could only assume were servants' quarters, kitchens, and other workrooms not fit for noble recognition.
"His Majesty, King James, will receive you in the throne room," Rommell told Havieze. "It's just this way . . ." He took her elbow and turned sharply to the left. However, Rommell had gone no more than three steps when a commanding voice from the top of the central staircase called his name.
"Sir Rommell!"
Rommell froze and turned around reluctantly. Descending the carpeted steps was another knight, dressed in the same shining iron armor, a scarlet cloak with three gold bands draped over his broad shoulders. His unruly black hair was tied behind his head in a short ponytail where, from under the unkempt tresses, stern cerulean eyes followed Rommell's every move and he could swear they penetrated the deepest recesses of his soul.
The knight reached the ground floor of the foyer and walked purposefully to where Rommell and Havieze stood. "What are you doing?" he asked. "Who is this woman? Where are you taking her?" The knight glared at Rommell. "You had better have some very good answers."
Rommell swallowed a lump in his throat and bowed in respect. "This woman wishes to see the king. She insisted, saying it was very important, but she wouldn't tell me what about. I was just taking her to meet with His Majesty before the ambassadors wake."
"And His Majesty would be in the dungeons?" the knight asked.
Rommell swallowed again. "Well, you see—"
"Cut the act, Rommell," the knight interrupted. "Why were you taking this woman to the dungeons?"
"She was becoming an annoyance at the inner gate," Rommell said purposefully. "She was warned many times what would happen if she didn't leave."
Havieze snorted. "I was not. No one mentioned imprisonment for trying to see the king of Hyrule."
The knight's glare immediately became more pronounced. "Is that true, Rommell?"
"I don't know," Rommell insisted. "She had been there long before I showed up."
"And she just wanted to see the king? She didn't try to threaten your life?"
Rommell shook his head obediently, muttering something under his breath.
"She could be dangerous?" the knight repeated. He looked at Havieze skeptically before turning back to Rommell. "She doesn't appear potentially harmful to me, but then . . ." the knight's expression began to lighten, "perhaps young women possess supernatural powers. Is that it?"
Rommell blushed. "No."
"Tell me," the knight went on with interest, "how come you wouldn't take her to see His Majesty?"
"No one without special invite is allowed to see King James as long as the Gerudo ambassadors are here."
The knight laughed. "That's not the real reason, is it?"
"It most certainly is," Rommell assured him, his pride hurt by the statement. "Those are my orders."
"Whatever you say. . . ." The knight dismissed the subject with a wave of his hand. "I'll take care of this young woman now. You can return to your post on the allure." He smiled. "There might be some little children threatening the gate guards this very moment."
Rommell's face turned downright crimson. His pride severely crushed, the blonde wished nothing more than to retort with a string of offenses to the blue-eyed knight, but he knew better than to challenge a superior. Muttering under his breath, Rommell turned and stalked out the open doors onto the palace common.
After watching Rommell disappear, the knight turned back to Havieze with a wide smile on his face. "Forgive him, my lady," the knight said with a small bow. "As you can see, Sir Rommell is a bit of a fool."
"No, I can't."
The knight looked slightly taken aback by the statement. "Excuse me?"
Havieze grinned. "I can't see him."
The knight met her gaze and realized she was blind. "Oh, forgive me, my lady." He bowed again.
"Don't worry yourself," Havieze insisted.
"May I have your name please, my lady?"
"I am Havieze of Hylia," Havieze told him.
"Ah, my name is Sir Talmar," the knight replied. "It is a pleasure."
"I'm sure it is," said Havieze, "but I didn't come here to exchange pleasantries. I would like to speak with King James, if I may."
"I'm afraid he's occupied in the Great Hall, hosting breakfast for the ambassadors," Sir Talmar explained.
"Then I'll speak to his wife."
"The Princess Liana passed away nine years ago," Talmar informed the young woman.
"I know," said Havieze. "I assumed King James would have remarried by now to give his charming daughter a mother."
"I'm afraid not," Talmar replied, "but the princess is well cared for in the hands of her attendant."
"Of course, the Sheikah girl, Impa of Kakariko. How could I forget?" Havieze added with a smile. "Seeing as the father is occupied, might I see the princess?"
Talmar hesitated. "What do you wish to tell her? I would be more than willing to deliver the message."
Havieze smiled, adjusting her grip on her staff. "You're the brother of the late Master Sir Garret, aren't you? Talmar of Chastrion?"
"What?" Talmar looked shocked. "How do you know?"
The smile widened. "I can See it."
"See it?" Talmar repeated. "How?"
"Through the world of visions I can see the world of men," Havieze explained. "I can prove it. I've never met you before, nor heard about you, but I know what you look like." She closed her eyes and gripped her staff tightly with both hands. "You have blue eyes and black hair. Your armor is well kept and your face portrays a look of amazement." She opened her eyes. Talmar gaped at her.
"How . . .?" he began, "how can you . . .?"
"I'm a prophetess." Havieze's visage became serious immediately as she remembered her task. "I am here to deliver news of happenings disturbing Purhpciy fu hith Papuulcespi, an ancient prophecy that has just recently come into play. It is important that I speak to a member of the Silver Legacy as soon as possible." Talmar nodded quickly. Havieze gave him a studying look. "You look confused."
"I shouldn't be surprised if I do," said the knight, still not understanding how she could know. "I've never heard of this prophecy before. If I were Rommell, I'd say it was a load of swill."
"But you aren't," Havieze pointed out. "You are Talmar of Chastrion and I know you believe in visions and prophecies." Havieze closed her eyes again and Talmar felt a tingling at the back of his mind. "Your late sister-in-law, the Lady Coquina, if I'm not mistaken, visioned the day of Princess Zelda's christening."
Talmar was silent.
"She was right beside you when it happened," Havieze went on. "Would you care to know what she saw?" The prophetess did not wait for his answer. "She foresaw the hand the Goddesses dealt her." Havieze whipped a card out of nowhere. "La Morte, the Death card."
Talmar's face contorted, remembering what had happened at the christening. It was a hot day to hold a christening, a day in the middle of August. Not a good time for Coquina, who had been having trouble since giving birth, and was not well suited for the heat. By the middle of the ceremony, she looked as thought she were about to faint. . . .
"And as the priest proclaimed the greatness of Farore," Havieze continued, reading the thoughts from his mind. "Emerald mists fogged the lady's sight when the vision appeared before her. Storming weather, the galloping of horses' hooves, confusion, and total fear. . . ."
Havieze paused. "These feelings she saw before she experienced." The prophetess gazed intently at Talmar. "You felt them too, did you not? These were the objects of the Great War, and you know the Great War well. . . ."
Talmar closed his eyes in torment, hoping the prophetess would be gone when he opened them again. Her words stirred up long repressed memories in the knight's mind; memories he had struggled so hard to silence since the war. What right did this Havieze of Hylia have to remind him of those events? What right did she have to pry into his mind so?
"You're right, I should not have trespassed on your memories," the blind woman said. "I ask your forgiveness and promise I shall not Read any further."
The knight opened his eyes to find Havieze still before him. "I forgive you."
Havieze bowed her head. "I only wanted to prove to you that my power was real, but I realize now that I got carried away. I understand now how hard it has been for you since the war."
"Do you still wish to speak with Princess Zelda?" Talmar interjected intentionally.
Havieze, slightly shocked by Talmar's sudden change of character, quickly discovered that there was more to his feelings about the Great War than she had first Read. However, respecting the resolution she made not the trespass in his mind, Havieze kept this knowledge to herself.
"Yes, I would, if you do not mind."
"I don't."
Without another word, Talmar led the blind prophetess to the grand central staircase and deeper into the castle. The knight was silent as they went, saying nothing to Havieze and not giving the slightest clue to what was on his mind. Havieze resisted the urge to Look for herself and followed without comment.
Old memories of Coquina and Garret flooded Talmar's mind. One deep winter at Chastrion manor, three years before the assassination of King Clarence, when he and Garret had been on their way to the stables, Coquina had appeared out of nowhere and pelted them with snowballs. Another year, while Garret had been summoned to the town of Hyrule, Talmar taught a reluctant Coquina how to swim.
After the Great War, it was weeks before he received news of Garret's death. Coquina, whose body was never found, was assumed to be merely missing. For three years, Talmar waited for her, imagining her walking up the familiar path to the city of Chastrion with a band of refugees, helping along her young son, whom he was sure would be the image of Garret when he was grown. However, though the refugees came, Coquina was never with them. Years passed and Talmar accepted that she was dead. Without any hopes of his family to return, Chastrion manor soon became a prison. So many memories of better times were preserved within its walls, memories that could never be repeated.
Eventually Talmar could stand the memories no more and turned over lordship to a friend, leaving his home to live in Hyrule, the city that had grown up around the castle. There, he lost himself to a life devoted to serving James and rebuilding the court. Coquina, Garret, and Chastrion faded from mind, though the void in his heart where they had been never filled. Their smiling faces replaced the stone walls of the castle, their laughter the sound of his boots, their happiness his despair. Hot tears stung Talmar's eyes as he walked, but he brushed them away. He had shed all the tears he had long ago. Relishing in them only prolonged the pain, pain he so strenuously hushed.
The Master of the Knights of Hyrule, the Lady of Chastrion, and son whose name he has lost to the whims of time, Havieze thought to herself as she followed Talmar. They haunt his every turn, a repeating voice telling him they're there. He thinks if he does not believe it, it won't be real, like waking from a dream. But this is not a dream, it is reality. He may not be able to accept it, but his family died because Purhpciy fu hith Papuulcespi was about to begin. He does not believe in fate, as I would expect. Fate did not kill Coquina and Garret, did it, Talmar?
Talmar took no notice that she was thinking of him.
And it's not only Purhpciy fu hith Papuulcespi that shall come into effect soon. Havieze smiled. "Sir Talmar?"
"Yes, my lady?"
"Have you heard many prophecies?" asked the prophetess.
"A few."
"What about Tirrnodi Ltus Seite?"
"No."
"Relic of past times doth stand woe unto alternation and site thus morte whose message doth reject. Emerald miles shalt bleed unto the hollow in he whose perdition claim all. Hidden ist what was gone but now ist not, forgotten but now remembered. Exempt doth the circumstances from why vanished, relish inamorata."
"What does it mean?" Talmar could not hide the shadow of intrigue.
Havieze grinned. "Tirrnodi Ltus Seite naemis tau llwae dfen htaww tau ltus." She stopped, facing a pair of ornately carved wooden doors. "This is the princess's suite, is it not?"
"Yes," said Talmar. He faced the prophetess with a studying look on his face. "What was all that you just said?"
"The lost language," Havieze informed him. "Ancient Hylian."
"You can speak it?" Talmar's amazement became evident. "But that's a dead tongue. No one speaks it anymore. It hasn't been actively used since the time of the Hylia . . ." He trailed off. Talmar looked up and found himself staring into the unseeing eyes off the prophetess. Havieze of Hylia . . . ?
Havieze smiled mysteriously.
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