Here comes chapter three, and things really start to get fun :) Please review, it would make my day!

This site is stupid about symbols, deleting everything imaginable, so horizontal rules are being used for scene changes. I know it looks horrid, and trust me, I wouldn't use them if I didn't have to.

The three year old boy with blood-red hair and eyes to match leaned on the massive iron gate at the edge of his village. This is where Ganondorf spent much of his time, wishing the adults would let him out of this boring little village. Mommy kept telling him that he would be the King, but they still didn't let him do anything fun. He couldn't play in the Training Grounds, he couldn't play in the Fortress, he couldn't ride the horses, he couldn't shoot arrows; but most grating was that he couldn't leave the village. So there he leaned, every day, staring out of the iron gate into the Haunted Wasteland.

"Here for your daily staring, Ganondorf?" called the woman from the gate tower. Her name was Karil, and Ganondorf had gotten to know her, and all of the other gate guards, quite well. She had bright orange hair like all other Gerudos (other than the old women with white hair) and carried her twin scimitars with an earned confidence.

"Are you gonna let me out to play yet, Karil?" he replied, looking up at her.

"You ask me that every day, and every day I give you the same answer. You know how much trouble we would both get in if I let you into the Wasteland."

"You grownups are all the same!" Ganondorf said grumpily, and turned back to stare wistfully into the desert. As he watched, he thought he saw a small yellow light flash in the blowing sands, but it was gone immediately. He decided that it was nothing. Then, a small noise emanated from right on the other side of the gate. No... it was coming from in his head. Kekekekeke... would you like to play with us Ganondorf? The light reappeared in the sands, bouncing up and down in encouragement. Ganondorf nodded vigorously.

From her perch, Karil looked down at the boy, wondering what he was nodding about. She opened her mouth to ask him, but nearly choked on her words as he suddenly fell right through the iron bars, disappearing into the blinding sandstorm. Panicked, she reached up to ring the alarm bell, but was halted when an impossibly sharp icy gust sliced cleanly through her wrist. With a pained grimace, she watched her hand fall to the floor of the tower, and saw that the blood had frozen on the end of her arm, not a drop falling from either it or the severed hand. She began to scream, when an intense heat flared up behind her, and a burning hand clamped down on her throat, boiling her skin and vocal cords.

"Now, now... you don't want to ruin our little game," the owner of the hand spoke into her ear, sounding extremely amused. An instant later there was a fiery flash, and Karil was gone; body, bone, severed hand and all, leaving not a trace that she had ever existed.

Ganondorf stood up, and spit the sand out of his mouth. Falling through the gate had certainly startled him, but the child forgot any fear the second he realized what had happened. He was through the gate! He could have as much fun as he wanted, and there were no grownups to scold him! He looked ahead and saw the yellow light, still bobbing up and down, inviting him forward. As he neared the light, it became a lantern, and eventually he could see the creature holding it. It was a strange, floating black blob with white eyes and a tattered-looking purple smock. As he stared at the ghost, it chanted merrily into his head:

From that look, young child
Wouldn't you know
I do believe that this is
Your first time seeing a Poe.

Phantom Guide is the name
After death I did take
And it is not very often
A new friend I can make.

If you'll do me the honor
There is much fun I can show
Just step up on this box
And away we shall go!

Looking behind the poe, Ganondorf saw that there was indeed a box, sitting before a vast pit of sand that seemed to be flowing like a river. With a cry of glee, Ganondorf leapt onto the box, and held tight as Phantom Guide let out a mighty breath, propelling the box across the river of sand. When it reached solid ground again, it was halted suddenly, and Ganondorf was propelled once again face-first into the sand. When he stood, he found himself next to a tall wooden post with a white flag tied at the top. The sandstorm seemed even more violent here than at the gate. The poe was gone.

"Mister Phantom?" he called. "Where did you go?"

Its answer echoed in his skull:

I'm sorry to go
But I don't want to stay
New friends shall come
They are enemies today.

Shrugging, Ganondorf ran deeper into the Haunted Wasteland, happy to have his freedom. Before long, though, he grew bored. There was nothing here but endless sand... sand on the ground, sand in the air. He couldn't understand why this place was so boring; something off limits was usually the best kind of fun. He changed his mind about wanting to be in the desert, and turned back the way he had come. After walking for what seemed like ages to the boy, he began to worry. Where was that flag? He was sure he was walking in the right direction, though he could barely see further than his arms could reach. Out of nowhere, there came a yell, like some warrior's battle cry.

"Hyaaahhhh!"

Turning toward the noise, Ganondorf glimpsed a flash of green and silver, hurtling toward him. He cowered to the ground, closing his eyes and clutching the back of his head, but never felt anything. Opening his eyes, he saw he was alone, and looked around confusedly. Then, to his left, for the briefest of moments, he thought he saw a hulking black beast, as tall and wide as his hut in the village. But as the sand blew over it, it was gone, leaving with a deafening roar.

Next came a loud whistling from the right, causing Ganondorf to frantically turn his head again, to see a bright yellow streak, which he was sure was an arrow, soar overhead. With a loud "Kachink!" a gleaming sword, as large as the three year old, fell from the sky and stuck into the ground before him. It had a blue hilt with a yellow eye carved into it, and seemed to pierce his very soul. He jumped back in fear, only to have an identical sword fall to the ground behind him. Backing away, he looked up in panic, and cried aloud as more and more of the swords fell out of the sandstorm in every direction. Every way he ran, another sword struck the earth, blocking his path, until he was caged to a tiny spot, unable to move. Hundreds of the swords surrounded him, each bearing down on him with that scornful eye. He closed his eyes, but still he could see them, their vision slicing through his mind and body from every angle. He squeezed his head between his hands, tears streaming from his eyes, and looked to the sky with a scream.

"MOMMY!"

A final sword broke through the particles above, heading straight for the boy. He clenched his eyes shut and tensed for his death, screaming again. As the tip of the blade connected with his forehead, it disappeared immediately, yet his mind was ripped apart. It seemed as if every sound that had ever been made was at once set loose in his ears, a cacophony of drowning turmoil. With one final pleading scream for his mother, though he could not hear it above the tumult in his head, Ganondorf collapsed into the sand.