Chapter 24

Zelda couldn't quite place where she was. She knew, with dark certainty, that she was in a slave camp, but where actually that was, she wasn't quite sure. Not that it mattered. She would have been lost no matter where she was, her knowledge of the land not extending beyond New Hyrule Town.

The camp was just as cramped as the cage, and twice as stifling. People lined the floor like carcasses, stretched out, huddled, or just staring blankly into space. Moans and pleas floated up to her, making her head spin. Who was she to tend to first? Zelda tiptoed over them, carrying in one hand a dented tin bowl, water sloshing over the rim, and in the other a tattered rag, stained with grime. She had volunteered herself as a water carrier, just so that she could have something to do, and to stop the murky thoughts that were festering in her heart.

Once more, she was a prisoner. She wondered if any of those other 'Zelda's' the Deku Tree had spoken of had ever been imprisoned. Probably not, she decided. She was by far the worst of them all. After all, she was the one that had been marked for death. Still, she had one small comfort to cling to. Unlike the men, all the women, though she didn't know why, had no chains to restrict their movements.

A hand reached out from the shadows, tugging at her tunic. Kneeling down, Zelda came face to face with a plump, old woman, her face warty, her grey hair straggly. "Water," she gasped. "Have mercy."

Zelda felt her mouth tug downwards as pity rose in her heart. She could offer water, but mercy? That was beyond her. The young Harkinian brought the bowl up to the woman's lips, marvelling at how hungrily she gulped down the water. Dipping the rag into the liquid, Zelda passed it over the slavewoman's brow, then pressed her hand against the older woman's cheek. She responded in kind, reaching her own hand up to curl around Zelda's. "Bless you, daughter," she breathed.

Zelda gave her a quick, sad smile, then stood, searching her surroundings. Lighting was dim here, with only a few lanterns lining the walls, and there were no windows. The heat made the atmosphere fetid and that, coupled with the mass of unwashed bodies, meant that a thick stench stuck to every single breath of air that she took.

Still she couldn't find the person that she sought. Where was that accursed woman? Where was Malon?

A shuffle of movement directed Zelda's gaze to the bolted iron door that sealed them all in. Laughter floated in from outside, and she knew that the guards were preparing to drag from them another victim. They always picked the youngest and, though there was little chance to be picky, the prettiest. So far, she'd been lucky. Every time they'd entered, she'd managed to hide herself away, curling into a corner under a filth encrusted blanket. Her heart went out to the victims, though, and guilt bubbled in her heart as she heard their screams.

Pinpricks of rage burned from behind Zelda's eyes. Her hands, still holding the bowl and rag, clenched and unclenched. If only she could find some weapon to strike out against her captors. She would snap their necks one by one. Then she'd stand over them and laugh.

"What's so funny, missy?"

Zelda blinked as Malon approached. Had her feelings been so obviously painted on her face?

The banditwoman continued to watch her, puzzled. "Are you thinking about your fairy boy?"

Zelda frowned. "Fairy boy?"

"Yes." Malon sniffed, turning away slightly as though she were not interested. "The boy Hikirem caught you with. You wish he were here, don't you?"

The young Harkinian's mind drifted to the guards once more. "I do," she replied sourly. "But not for the reasons you think." She recalled Link's image in her eyes once more, the cold set to his jaw, the easy familiarity with which he handled his crossbow. She remembered what he'd said; remembered that he cared not for the fate of the world, remembered how he believed that some people deserved to die. A bitter stain irritated her heart. He'd been right all along. "If he...if Link were here, we'd be able to escape. We'd make those guards suffer."

Malon took a step back, as though repulsed by the intensity in Zelda's voice. She regained her composure in a flash. "Oh yes, Link," she said, still pretending that the subject held no interest for her. "He told me his name during my little...visit to him." She glanced at the Hylian, hoping to see some sort of reaction. Zelda ignored her. "I'm sure we would escape, missy," she continued, changing track. "After all, he made quite a mess with Hikirem's camp, didn't he?" She sighed theatrically. "And then afterwards...in the warm...'afterglow' of victory, shall we say...the two of you could..."

"What do you know about the man who bought us?" Zelda snapped, quickly cutting her off. That this banditwoman could be so immodest was still shocking to her. Besides, she didn't think of Link like that. She just hoped that she hadn't blushed in response to Malon's words.

"'Bought us'," the banditwoman laughed, bringing Zelda out of her thoughts. "Nice, missy, nice."

"Well, it's the truth."

Anger flashed across Malon's face. "Yes, but you don't have to remind us."

Once again, Zelda found herself matching the other woman's temper. "Look around!" she snapped. "There's nothing but reminders!"

The Harkinian was vaguely aware of the silence that had now pooled around the two of them, all eyes turned in their direction. She didn't care. She felt her cheek twitch as she tried to burn through the banditwoman with her stare. Petty though it was, she wasn't going to turn away here. A small victory was what she wanted; no, needed, as she wasn't going to forget who it was that was responsible for her current predicament. Malon would wilt. She would. She had to.

She did. The banditwoman turned on her heel, her mouth set in a grim line. "I'm not used to this, missy," she said quietly.

And yet again, Zelda found herself pitying her. "I am," she replied, her voice soft. "Not exactly like this," she continued as Malon looked up at her with a questioning look. "But I'm used to being cooped up. I'm used to losing my freedom."

Hope sprang in the banditwoman's eyes. "Then you must know how to escape," she breathed, forgetting Zelda's earlier query. "You're a resourceful young missy. You even managed to escape from Old Masher's."

"Not for long," Zelda reminded her in a dry voice. She looked around, seeing no means to flee except the door. "I don't know how to get out of this place."

Her mind raced. Defiance grew in her soul, the steel that had kept her going through all these summers. She'd never once backed down in her life. It would do no good for her to do so now. It was just as well-

-well, well, well. What have we here? Poor little Princess can't break free. Try being imprisoned for over five hundred summers, you worthless wench. Were it not for the fact that I need you alive, I'd be more than happy to leave you to these wolves. I'd laugh, too, as they tear into your oh-so-innocent flesh. But, no. You live this time. So here's -

"- how we're going to escape." Zelda blinked, stunned. Had she just said that? Her head spun and Malon, her face curiously creased with worry, reached out to steady her.

"Missy! What's wrong?"

Zelda tried to reply, tried to open her mouth and force her tongue to form the words, but all it did was make her retch. The tin bowl slipped from her fingers and, in a moment of fluid agility, the banditwoman caught it, then eased Zelda down to the floor. Gingerly she brought the remaining water to the Hylian's mouth, and Zelda accepted it gratefully, finding her lips suddenly parched.

"Escape, missy?" Malon asked, her voice low, glancing left and right to make sure no one was listening. "What do you mean?"

Zelda shook her head frantically, her mind still whirling painfully. Images were forming, though; thoughts, ideas, plans. Where were they coming from?

The sudden snap of the bolt sliding open made all eyes turn to the door. Like a mouth opening and closing, a gap appeared, a new slave was pushed in, then the gap sealed. The newcomer spun around. "You'll be sorry," he screamed. "He's coming. He's coming to save us all."

Malon gave a short, harsh laugh. "Religious Deku nut," she barked under her breath.

Zelda watched as the slave now turned to face the rest of them. Something shone in his eyes, a sharp contrast to the dull sheen of defeat that everyone else carried. He stood, his back straight, his chains tinkling. "He's coming."

"Who is?" someone shouted in scorn. "Your Papa? You think you're Papa's going to pull you out of this mess, boy?"

The newcomer showed no sign that he'd been offended. "The Hero is coming." Zelda's heart skipped a beat. "He's here at last."

Pushing Malon away gently, the Harkinian pulled herself to her feet, and made her way forward. "What do you mean? Who do you mean?" The last time she'd heard the term 'Hero' was when the Great Deku Tree had spoken to her and Link. She'd also had a vague memory of her family using it in hushed, secretive conversations.

The new slave turned to her, his face showing relief now that he had an audience. "A Hero. He saved the Lost from destruction."

"Pity," Malon mumbled, then stopped herself as the slave glared at her.

"He made Vannis Tor lay down his blade and flee." Awe flooded his voice now, and it dropped to a respectful hush. "No one has done that before."

Zelda didn't recognise the name, but she noticed Malon's eyes stretch in surprise. Good. His claims did have some basis in reality then. "But who is he...?" she insisted. Could it be possible that...?

"A Boneyard Warrior."

Zelda almost gasped. "That's not possible." Her hopes crumbled as his words hit heart like an arrow. This was nothing but the ravings of a poor soul unable to come to terms with his new role in life. Still. She couldn't help but feel curious. "Tell me all about him."

"Yes, tell us, mister," Malon piped in enthusiastically. "Is he handsome?"

"Quiet!" the Hylian hissed.

The banditwoman scowled in return, but said no more.

"What's make you say he'll rescue us all?" Zelda queried. "He's just one man."

The slave's eyes widened, as though incredulous that she would even ask. "That's what I heard from my forefathers. They read it in the ancient scrolls."

"You're familiar with those? What else do they say?"

Hanging his head as though he were ashamed, the slave said, "Beg pardon, miss. But that's all I know."

"Get him cleaned up!" another voice roared. "So we don't have to listen to his lunacy anymore. And find him a space to settle."

"Preferably one far away from me," came another reply. Laughter followed, and then the newcomer disappeared, whisked away by the others.

Disappointment now a mask on her face, Zelda turned away, chewing on the inside of her cheek in thought. "I was a fool, Malon," she said, her voice mournful. "No one's going to help us. No one's going to rescue us." At last, the plan that had been simmering in her mind solidified and took shape. "We're going to have to do this on our own."

...

Link stood at the edge of the Valley, cloaked and hooded, staring out at the reminders of his success over the Marauders; his first, true victory as a Boneyard Warrior which had led to this painful parting. Here, away from any settlements, the swirling mass of cloud began to dissipate; sunlight daring to peek out from the darkness, confident in its rightful claim to the sky. Here the leaves of the trees were a rich green once more, the branches thick with ripe fruit. In the distance he could see the Village of the Lost, now a dwindling dot in his vision. He closed his eyes as the grief welled up, threatening to overwhelm him.

Let your heart grow cold.

His eyes snapped open. No. He'd left that behind, scorched it from his heart, purified like iron in a forge. No. He let his pain wash over him, savouring in it, letting it be a reminder of what had passed. Deflecting his ego's need to wallow in its misfortune, he searched through the feelings, trying to capture the goodness in it.

He found it, encapsulated in one, solitary word that he now clung to, wrapping his mind around it. Gratitude.

A stray memory danced into his heart. He recalled how once, in the cold dead of night, the Teacher had roused him from his sleep. Link had followed, cursing in his heart, his eyes sticky and heavy. His mentor guided him to a small hut, its windows glowing from the light inside. Insistent wails rang out from within.

"What's happening?" Link had asked.

The Teacher grinned in response. "Valeta has just given birth to a son."

The young assassin had shrugged, unimpressed. "That's nice for her. I'll congratulate her in the morning." Secretly, he'd planned to avoid the whole situation altogether. He was, at that moment in time, trying to envision a plan by which he could...borrow...the Teacher's ancient texts. There must be some way for him to purify his heart without having to go through all this bother.

His mentor wrapped a bony hand around Link's wrist. "You're needed," he said, motioning to the door.

Knowing, from experience, that if he refused he'd either be given a more difficult task or a heavy rebuke, Link dragged himself to the hut. He also knew that he could just walk out and leave, but whatever else Link was, he was neither disloyal nor a coward. He was going to see this through to the end. There was something else, though, that he needed to do, but he couldn't quite place what it was. He was sure it would come back to him one day.

They entered the hut, and Link basked in the warmth that curled around him. He stepped over the towels, stained crimson with blood, and looked down at the newborn. Instantly he knew that something was wrong. The boy was pale, his breathing too laboured.

"Is he sick?" Link asked.

The mother, surrounded by nursemaids and teary-eyed, nodded. "He has Blood Rot."

"The cure?"

The Teacher stepped forward to interject. "Curiously enough, the only cure is that a Hylian male place a drop of his own blood in the patient's mouth."

Link's eyes narrowed. "Very convenient."

There was no hint of surprise or deception on the Teacher's face. He merely shrugged apologetically.

The assassin rolled up his sleeve. This test was easy. "Let's get it over with then."

"Wait," the Teacher said, making Link freeze. "There's a condition."

The young Hylian could feel his heart sink. "Name it."

"The blood has to be charged. It has to be mixed from the purity of the heart."

"What do you mean?"

The Teacher stepped away, gesturing at the child. "You'll understand."

Frowning Link looked down at the babe, then up at his mother. Who were these people to him? They didn't care about him, so why should he care in return. They'd probably wouldn't even be thankful if he helped them. His own squadron hadn't been thankful for all he'd done for them. His fellow Hylians had tried to murder him without even hearing him out. Life, he concluded, was a decidedly thankless experience.

"It's not all about you." The Teacher's voice was so faint that Link had to strain to hear it. "When things go wrong, don't ask 'why,' Just accept, say 'yes', then see how you can deal with it."

Again the young assassin looked down at the baby, hearing his shallow breathing. Who chose, he wondered, between life and death? Would this one grow up to be a hero or a tyrant? What kind of life would he have anyway? Just like his mother and his fellow villagers, he was scarred, disfigured in a way that many would find repulsive.

Seeing the indecision in his eyes, Valeta spoke, her voice shaking. "You don't have to if you don't wish to. I'm sure there's another way."

Link was suddenly aware that his own breathing had now matched the baby's. The noise struck him as strange. Something clicked inside, the last pieces of a puzzle falling neatly into place. Breath. Life. As though it were a revelation, he was acutely conscious of himself has a living being. Not only him, but everyone around him.

Shame burned him. So wrapped up he had been in his own pain, so absorbed in his own ego, that he'd forgotten one key thing. It didn't matter if they thanked him or not. This baby, this new soul that had no evil to its name, had a right to live just as much as he did. He shouldn't do it just to be appreciated, or even to exalt his own fame. He should do it just because. Whether he was loved or hated mattered not.

Reaching down, Link pulled his Oath Blade free from his belt. A name buzzed in his mind - Zelda - but he batted it away impatiently. It wasn't time to think about her right now. He pushed the tip against his finger, wincing as it pierced skin. Letting his hand hover over the baby's mouth, he squeezed a drop of scarlet out. He looked up, and catching the anxiety in Valeta's eyes, smiled.

As soon as the blood had reached the baby's tongue, a complete change occurred. The baby's breathing strengthened in front of their eyes, the colour rushing back to his cheeks.

A grin, accentuated by her now sparkling eyes, spread across Valeta's face.

"I believe," the Teacher said wryly. "That he will recover."

Link turned away, satisfied. He knew he'd not be needed anymore. He tried to battle away his disappointment. Let you heart grow -

"Where are you going?" Valeta cried.

The young man turned back, confused. "Home...why?"

She laughed and, though it clearly pained her to do so, gently passed her son off to a nursemaid. Quickly rising to her feet, Valeta shook off her fatigue, ran and wrapped Link in a fierce hug. He stumbled in shock.

"You're going nowhere, young man," she said, her voice shaking with genuine emotion. "The whole village will learn of this. And then, we'll remember your name forever." A light dawned on her face. "Not only your name, but my son's, too, for I name him 'Link' And I pray that he shares in your purity of spirit."

The sheer sincerity in her voice almost made Link choke. He could find no words to express the disorientating feelings that swirled inside. All that he knew was that here, amongst people shunned by the outside world, something in his heart, something heavy like steel, had cracked that night. It hadn't gone, of course, but it had weakened. There was something else, too. Something flickering, at the edge of his consciousness. Not only was he aware of himself, and others around him, as truly living beings, but, for the first real time in his life, he had a faint sense of something...beyond.

Link smiled as the memory faded. It had seemed like an age ago now. He knew that they'd spread the tale around to the neighbouring villages. Many of Link's exploits were passing from mouth to mouth now, including his latest, the 'taming' of Vannis Tor. He squinted, noticing a dark shape approach, framed against the remains of the village's defensive wall, now tanned black by the fire trick that he'd used in the battle against the Marauders.

It was the Teacher, though he'd sensed that as soon as his eyes had fell upon him.

"Are you ready?" his mentor asked with a smile.

"You're not coming with me?" Link asked. He knew the answer, but he had to hear it.

"No." The Teacher shook his head. "You don't need me anymore, Link."

The former assassin pursed his lips, not wanting his tongue to form what his heart felt inside. "Thank you," he said instead. "For everything."

The Teacher bowed his head respectfully, then looked up, puzzled. "There's something else...?"

Link took in a deep breath, trying to push steel into his nerves. His mentor had already sensed what he'd wanted, but Link had to try anyway. "There has to be another way to end the Cycle." The words spilled out like a torrent. "Another way apart from having to kill Zelda."

"There is none. I've studied the books, the scroll and all the prophecies. I even discussed it with the Tree himself."

The young Hylian raised an eyebrow. So. Both the Teacher and the Great Deku Tree had been in communication with each other.

"Don't look at me like that." the Teacher said. "We've been waiting for you for a long time, Link. We had to make sure that everything went ahead as planned."

Link's gaze dropped to the ground, humbled. He tried to still his heart from the awe he felt. He was just a speck of dust in a world teeming with life. He wasn't anything special. "The Cycle?"

"Can only be broken one way, I'm afraid," the Teacher replied. "Once it's broken, our world will live again, and the evil will that feeds it will vanish." He held his pupil with a steady gaze. "Think of that, Link. Think of that. More rests on this than you can imagine. It's not only connected to future generations, it's connected to here and now - He that wishes to live again is truly a master puppeteer, engineering things from afar, not only with you and Zelda, but elsewhere, too. When the Cycle breaks, all his machinations go with him."

"Elsewhere?" Link asked. He tried to push, tried to peer into his master's heart, but was unable to, the Teacher being far too strong and skilled. He caught a faint glimmer of a thought - something that was related to New Hyrule Town. It vanished as quickly as it appeared and Link was left bewildered. Seeing that the Teacher was not going to offer any explanation, he changed track. "You still haven't told me who 'He' exactly is."

"It's better that you don't know," his mentor replied. "There's no benefit in you knowing his name or more about his past. Erase him from your mind, so that you can erase him from the world. Remember what I said...?"

"Only gain knowledge that will serve you and those around you," Link quoted. "Idle curiosity about things best left hidden is a waste of your time."

The Teacher nodded, pleased. "That's my boy."

A faint smile touched Link's lips "I'll be on my own again."

"You won't," the Teacher said. "As we know..."

Link smile grew wide, and he turned to the thick undergrowth nestling at the base of a nearby tree. "You can come out of there now, Harlequin."

The bandit, his face flushed, popped his head up from the grass, eyes glazed with a guilty look. "Sorry, misters, sorry. You knew I was here?"

Laughing, Link said, "We both did."

"Harlequin Jack," the Teacher said, his voice solemn. "I charge you with the task of being Link's travelling companion." The bandit wilted under the Warrior's stern gaze. "Do you accept?"

Jack rushed out, almost colliding into Link. "Yes, yes, mister," he cried. "Surely, I do."

The young Hylian couldn't hide the delight from his face. He turned back to his mentor, sighed, then embraced him one final time. "How will I find her?"

"You will," the Teacher said cryptically. His voice then took on an edge of warning. "Promise you'll go through with this, Link. Promise you won't forget."

His fingers tapping against the hilt of his Oath Blade, the former assassin paused, his jaw trembling. "Of course," he said. It felt as though he had lead in his mouth. "You can trust me."

The Teacher held his gaze for a heartbeat more, then clasped his hand on Link's shoulder. "Then go," he whispered. "We may yet meet again one day."

Link turned away, Harlequin Jack following behind him, and took to the trail that led out of the Valley. He didn't want to see anymore, not the Teacher, nor the Village of the Lost. All that concerned him now was the thought of finding Zelda. That, and the fact that he wondered, with guilt dropping onto his heart, if the Teacher had sensed exactly how much he had just lied.

...

A hush fell on the gathered slaves as the door to their prison opened. Regular as clockwork, the trio of guards entered, noses wrinkled from the smell, but eyes brimming with greed as they searched the assembled throng for another one of their 'desserts.' This time, however, they wouldn't have to wait long.

Zelda stepped forward, her eyes pleading. "Please, sirs," she whimpered, head bowed, and feet shuffling. "Pick me, sirs. I'd like to...be chosen." She looked up, gazing straight into their eyes. "Just for you."

The guards, their jaws dropping open, looked at her with a mixture of desire and apprehension. Pathetic, Zelda thought. She could almost see the drool hanging from their chins. Why did men think that most women were begging to throw themselves at their feet?

Before the guards could even respond, the main attraction of their little piece of theatre entered. Malon, her hips swaying, her eyes wide with hunger, stepped up beside Zelda. "Me, too misters," she cooed. "You just can't imagine how dull it is here." She shuffled forward, her lips opening slowly. "And I'm sure you men know how to lift that from me."

Zelda winced inwardly. She hoped the banditwoman wasn't being too forceful. Deception was the key here, no matter much it disgusted her and went against her sensibilities.

One of the men licked his lips. "I'm sure..." he cleared his throat, "I'm sure we could arrange something for you lovely ladies."

Another one stared at Zelda. She stared back, uncomfortable with the attention. "Looky, this one's a Hylian," he said. The lust in his voice sickened her. "I heard they can do...things...with their ears." Zelda almost gagged.

The last one kept his gaze on Malon. "I like this one best," he said. "She has some spirit to her."

The banditwoman gave a suitably coy reaction, looking away shyly as a rose tint blossomed on her cheeks. Zelda had to admit that Malon was a lot better at this than her. The young Harkinian had other things on her mind though. She watched the men carefully, waiting, waiting for that tell tale sign for her to act.

"I don't know what you mean, mister," Malon said. "I'm just a lonely girl, who's wanting some excitement. You can understand that, right?"

There.

The mens' shoulders sagged ever so slightly, their eyes fixed on Malon, and Zelda knew that they'd let their guard down. Her first kick threw one guard out through the door, her second cracked into another jaw. Galen, the slave that had just joined them that morning, pounced from the shadows wrapping his chains around the remaining guard's neck.

Zelda walked up to him, watching his eyes bulge as he gurgled. She knew that he was beaten, that there was no more left to be done. Still ,she felt no satisfaction, her hatred churning like a storm. Who was this disgusting worm who dared to inflict suffering on her? He was no one. She was the Harkinian Princess. She deserved better. She deserved her life.

A feral growl rumbled in Zelda's throat. She lashed out, a kick straight into the man's chest. A wet snap rang out. It wasn't enough. She swung around, delivering another kick to his face. The man sagged. Teeth clenched and chest heaving, she stepped forward, leapt, then drove her boot into his jaw, sending blood flying. Now she felt content, and punctuated her action by spitting into the remains of his face.

Galen and the banditwoman looked at her, stunned, their faces pale. "Was that..." the slave said. "Was that really necessary?"

Zelda threw him a glance, then turned to address the other slaves. "We're leaving."

The slaves poured out into the corridors, Zelda, Malon and Galen at their head. Having paused to pull free a dagger from one of the fallen guards, the young Hylian ran ahead, her heart bubbling with glee. She felt alive, like the day she and the Harkinians had assaulted Castle Dragmire. Her familiar laugh escaped from her lips, free after being dormant for so long.

Her enthusiasm was infectious, the slaves indulging in their primal impulses just like her. They tore at the walls and smashed anything they found that wasn't nailed down, screaming curses and yelling with joy. Freedom was an intoxicating cocktail, making them lose all control of their senses. Zelda herself was the worst culprit.

As they twisted and turned down the myriad passageways they easily overcame any resistance, the remaining guards taken completely by surprise. One tried his best, though, standing his ground against the onslaught, the crackling torches casting a crimson shadow over his face.

Zelda snarled, annoyed at the interruption. She flipped the dagger into her hand, aiming for his shoulder. Then, just as moments before, her rage flooded into her veins once more. Shifting her arm, she found the man's heart and, with a quick spin for momentum, threw the knife. It plunged home, shooting a spray of blood into the air.

Zelda froze, as though stunned by a slap, as she watched the man slide to the ground in a bloody mess. She had no time to think, though, as the slaves caught up to her, pushing her along. He deserved to die, she told her frantic mind. An image of Link ghosted into her mind. Some people do deserve it.

At last they reached a thick, wooden door, larger than two men, and clearly the exit. The seething mass, murder in their hearts, swarmed against it, easily trampling the last few guards underfoot. The door bulged, creaking. A snap followed, then a splintering crunch, before the whole thing collapsed.

Zelda found herself in a large field, silver stars winking down upon her. She'd lost Galen and the banditwoman in the rush, but at that moment in time she didn't even care. Free! Her heart surged. She was finally free!

Rushing up to a large boulder, she hopped on top, spreading her arms out wide. She breathed in deeply, letting the cold air stroke her skin, and laughed, long and loud. This was -

- very good, I must admit. I'm impressed. Perhaps I should find a way to let you live. That would be the ultimate revenge, wouldn't it? After all this time, it would be most fitting if I made you my bride!

Zelda stumbled, toppling off the top of the rock. She crashed into the grass, her ankle twisting beneath her. She hissed as the sharp pain shot up her leg. But that wasn't the worst thing, no. Zelda sank to the ground, holding her head in her hands, whimpering as the deep laughter continued to roll around her mind.