Dear DivineHero,
All is not as it seems, as you're soon to find out. Gratitude to The
Procrastinator; more mushiness to come. Thanks for the feedback, gang!
-Shawshank
Chapter 7 - The Travels of the Destined, Part 2
Sheik was confused. Utterly, hopelessly, confused.
Link had died. That much he knew. And the edges of his soul were fraying. The only friend he'd ever had was gone. He was alone in this strange world.
Link's body was gone. That was the big stumper. Heroes' bodies didn't fade, like the vermin's did. He stumbled around, looking for some sign of life. He found none.
It was dark. And cold. Sheik's lips were starting to turn blue; he could feel it.
Eventually, he just gave up. He was dead. He was dead! How could Sheik have let this happen? It was all his fault.
He walked around, rubbing his arms. The fire was beyond hope. Sheik looked up towards the moons hanging in the sky. They looked as though they could fall. He shivered.
Sheik unconsciously wandered away from the ashes of the fire. When his gaze strayed back to the land around him, he realized he was lost. And cold. And hungry.
He shivered again as the tall grass crackled. Miraculously, he wasn't cut.
His gaze snapped up.
He could have sworn he had seen a huge shadow glide across the moon. A huge shadow, in a frighteningly familiar shape. Hylian? Nah.
Sheik blamed it on his imagination, forgetting that he didn't have a very good one. He was really, really cold.
He was also tired of wandering aimlessly around this field. He flattened a small place in the grass, curled up, and slept.
***
The moons hung in the sky. Many shapes crossed them, many times. Sheik was afraid.
Then the whispers came.
First one voice, whispering and yet shouting indistinguishable words. Soon joined by two more. Then ten more. Then a thousand more. Soon, there were a million voices, all blending together into one stream that babbled and drove anyone who listened for a period of time insane.
The voices suddenly ceased. Someone had come. Two of the Destined were in their land. They shouted out in anger, their voices clashing instead of blending together. The waves of ugly noise reverberated across the place that was theirs.
The arrival of the Destined was the beginning of the Prophecy. The first sign. A sign that was unwelcome. The land was not prepared for the New Age. This primitive place was not to be disturbed! In their eyes, the Apocalypse had come. However, the truth was far from it.
The whisper stream collided, clashing, turning into a sound which covered the world and left all in ruins. The people brought it upon themselves.
In the midst of the maelstrom, the two Destined stood. Fated to be forever together, yet apart. Meant to be separated from the world. The Goddesses have foretold this; theirs will be the most tragic of tales.
The hand of Fate would be stayed.
***
When Sheik woke up, he was tied to a pole, facing outwards. He had a horrible headache, and was having trouble keeping his eyes open. He fought off the urge to sleep for eternity and groped around for his red dagger. His hands met with those of another. The other stirred, indistinguishable from the shadows brought in by the moonlight. Sheik was sure he *was* asleep when the shadow spoke in a hoarse voice.
"Zelda?"
***
Sorry it's so short. As I have mentioned again and again, I love cliffhangers. -Shawshank
Chapter 7 - The Travels of the Destined, Part 2
Sheik was confused. Utterly, hopelessly, confused.
Link had died. That much he knew. And the edges of his soul were fraying. The only friend he'd ever had was gone. He was alone in this strange world.
Link's body was gone. That was the big stumper. Heroes' bodies didn't fade, like the vermin's did. He stumbled around, looking for some sign of life. He found none.
It was dark. And cold. Sheik's lips were starting to turn blue; he could feel it.
Eventually, he just gave up. He was dead. He was dead! How could Sheik have let this happen? It was all his fault.
He walked around, rubbing his arms. The fire was beyond hope. Sheik looked up towards the moons hanging in the sky. They looked as though they could fall. He shivered.
Sheik unconsciously wandered away from the ashes of the fire. When his gaze strayed back to the land around him, he realized he was lost. And cold. And hungry.
He shivered again as the tall grass crackled. Miraculously, he wasn't cut.
His gaze snapped up.
He could have sworn he had seen a huge shadow glide across the moon. A huge shadow, in a frighteningly familiar shape. Hylian? Nah.
Sheik blamed it on his imagination, forgetting that he didn't have a very good one. He was really, really cold.
He was also tired of wandering aimlessly around this field. He flattened a small place in the grass, curled up, and slept.
***
The moons hung in the sky. Many shapes crossed them, many times. Sheik was afraid.
Then the whispers came.
First one voice, whispering and yet shouting indistinguishable words. Soon joined by two more. Then ten more. Then a thousand more. Soon, there were a million voices, all blending together into one stream that babbled and drove anyone who listened for a period of time insane.
The voices suddenly ceased. Someone had come. Two of the Destined were in their land. They shouted out in anger, their voices clashing instead of blending together. The waves of ugly noise reverberated across the place that was theirs.
The arrival of the Destined was the beginning of the Prophecy. The first sign. A sign that was unwelcome. The land was not prepared for the New Age. This primitive place was not to be disturbed! In their eyes, the Apocalypse had come. However, the truth was far from it.
The whisper stream collided, clashing, turning into a sound which covered the world and left all in ruins. The people brought it upon themselves.
In the midst of the maelstrom, the two Destined stood. Fated to be forever together, yet apart. Meant to be separated from the world. The Goddesses have foretold this; theirs will be the most tragic of tales.
The hand of Fate would be stayed.
***
When Sheik woke up, he was tied to a pole, facing outwards. He had a horrible headache, and was having trouble keeping his eyes open. He fought off the urge to sleep for eternity and groped around for his red dagger. His hands met with those of another. The other stirred, indistinguishable from the shadows brought in by the moonlight. Sheik was sure he *was* asleep when the shadow spoke in a hoarse voice.
"Zelda?"
***
Sorry it's so short. As I have mentioned again and again, I love cliffhangers. -Shawshank
