Impa side-eyes Link for slinking back into town only hours before the star festival, but she adopts a cheerful tone as she explains the idea to him.
"We write wishes for the upcoming year on folded paper, and hang them from the trees in the guardian spirit's grove. You know, for the first time in many years, I have a good feeling about my wish."
Link must be looking unenthused because Impa huffs a laugh. "And of course, there is good food and rice wine afterwards," she adds.
As dusk falls, the villagers gather carrying lanterns and the square comes alive with the quiet buzz of conversation until Impa signals them to start making their way up the hill to the spirit's grove. Link walks between Steen and Olkin, discussing hunting tactics with them, until things start getting acrimonious between the two farmers. He drops back to walk with Claree, Lasli and Paya instead. Further ahead, he can see Granté chatting with Rola.
"Oh, the fireflies are so beautiful tonight!" Lasli sighs. "I've missed my evening walks so much. I'm going to wish for all the stupid Yiga to disappear so it's safe to go out again."
"I'm going to wish for the skill to create the finest clothes the world has ever seen!" Claree declares with a fist clenched to the heavens. "What about you, Paya?"
Paya flicks her gaze towards Link. "I - um - I'd rather not say," she stammers, blushing fiercely. Behind them, Koko and Cottla are tugging at Dorian's sleeves.
"I'm going to wish for mummy to come back," Cottla says. Dorian looks pained, and cups her head gently. Koko goes very quiet; Paya and Lasli both smile sadly.
"What will you wish for, Link?" Paya asks softly to break the silence.
Link's reasonably sure everyone in their small group knows who he really is, and he's sure they expect him to wish for an end to Ganon, but: who is he wishing to, exactly? It's been made very clear that Ganon is his problem to solve, much as he might like to foist it off on a higher power. Would it be selfish to wish for the rest of his memory back? He shrugs, and nobody presses the issue. As they reach the top of the hill, his eyes widen at the beauty of the dell. Bluebells carpet the forest floor in a dense spread of violet, with luminescent moths and fairies flitting between the trees. At the centre of the clearing is a small pond, crystal clear and sparkling in the moonlight.
The villagers disperse to tie their charms onto branches, and Link rubs his thumb over the still-blank paper in his pocket. As he's thinking, he notices a delicate, pale white flower at the base of a nearby tree. A name floats to the top of his subconscious. Silent Princess. It's beautiful. He crouches to inspect it more closely; almost reaches out to pluck it, but then more of the memory surfaces. Endangered; it fails to thrive in captivity. All we can hope is the species will be strong enough to survive on its own.
A new certainty settles into his heart. Worrying about the past - about how things stood between him and Zelda - is pointless. He could die fighting the Calamity. Zelda could die; could already be dead, tethered to life only until her task is complete. It's time to stop chasing some past version of himself and focus on being the best he can be now. He'll build up the friendships he's made, cultivate allies, and with their help, he will defeat Ganon. And afterwards - well. If he and Zelda both survive, they can see where they stand then.
He lets the petals of the flower run through his careful grasp and pulls out the slate. The list of broken images glows up at him, taunting, and he drags his fingers across the screen in a dramatic sweep to delete them all. Then he carefully composes a shot of the little cluster of flowers. [Silent Princess], he tags it. After a moment's thought he captures a shot of the pool too, which he tags [Kakariko guardian spring]. Then he pulls out his charcoal stick, and carefully inscribes a wish of strength for Princess Zelda onto the strip of paper. Hold strong. Endure, he wills her as he ties it to a branch. Then follows the others down the hill again, where the real party will begin and where there's a spit-roast boar waiting with Link's name all over it.
"So you couldn't remember anything?" Paya asks, staring wide-eyed at him. A little liquor seems to have rendered her capable of speaking to him without blushing, for which Link's grateful. Granté went the other way after a few drinks, and is avidly watching everyone and everything in cheerful silence.
"You were like, a total blank slate?" Lasli gasps, sitting next to her. Rola, a little further down, snores gently, head pillowed on her arms.
"Sort of... I still knew things," he explains. "What a Rito is, which plants are poisonous. I could fight and hunt, and tie my shoes. But I didn't remember anyone I knew before. Not the other Champions, or my parents, or any friends I had. I had no memories of my childhood. I've only got back fragments, really. I don't remember anything from our fight against Ganon."
"I'm sure more of it will come back, with time," Paya says gently.
Dorian slips into the seat next to him, back from putting his daughters to bed. "Even if your full memories do not return, Master Link, the Sheikah will be here for you. Whatever you wish to do, we will support you in friendship."
Link lifts his cup in Dorian's direction. "I'll drink to that."
He loses an arm-wrestling contest with Cado to raucous cheering then goes back for second helpings of the hog roast, and of rice wine. He loses his shirt somewhere; Paya's stammer returns. Impa has long since gone to bed. Steen is currently attempting to explain something to him about carrots being vital to the Hylian Champion's training technique, but between the general noise and his overindulging, Link can't really make much of it out. He pats the man on the shoulder with a vague nod and extricates himself. A little distance away he can see Dorian sitting quietly at the edge of the celebration, looking sombre.
"Everything okay?" he asks softly, sitting next to him.
"Just wishing my wife was here," Dorian says.
"You lost her recently?" Link asks. Cottla's still quite young, after all.
Dorian nods. "Last year. I'm lost without her. I could never hope to match her kindness or gentleness with the girls."
"She sounds wonderful, but I think you're selling yourself short," Link says. "You seem like a great father to me."
"She was wonderful. Everyone loved her, and I will never forgive the Yiga for taking her from me."
"Yiga?" Link asks, frowning. "Lasli mentioned them earlier. I feel like I should know the name. Who are they?"
"A great shame upon our clan," Dorian says, clenching his fist. "Misguided Sheikah, who sided with the enemy and seek to aid the Calamity's return. They hide in the desert like cowards and attack from the shadows."
Link is baffled that anyone would align themselves with such obvious evil, but he senses pressing Dorian on the issue right now isn't a good idea. He'll ask Impa about it later.
Link wakes to shouting and smoke. He rolls out of bed, stumbling free of the covers, and throws open the shutters to look out over the village. Halfway up the hill, a house is on fire, thick smoke pouring out from under the thatch. Grabbing his sword and yanking his shirt over his head, he clatters down the stairs at a jog. His head only throbs lightly at the sudden motion, and he has a moment of appreciation for Paya, who brought him a pitcher of water last night before they both retired.
Outside, bleary-eyed villagers are hurriedly forming a bucket-chain to extinguish the flames, most still in their nightwear. Link grabs Lasli's elbow as she runs past.
"Is anyone inside?" he asks.
She shakes her head. "The girls stay with us when Dorian is on night duty. Nanna is with them now."
Link feels himself relax slightly. There's a flicker of motion in the corner of his vision, and he turns just in time to see a black-clad figure disappear into the trees at the top of the hill, pursued by another figure in Sheikah cream. He hesitates, looking back at the still-burning building, but the gathered crowd seems to have that situation in hand. He loosens his sword in his scabbard and goes after the unknown pair.
He emerges quietly into the dell, sticking close to the shadows. The charms tied by the Sheikah flutter gently in the branches overhead; under his feet, the grass is dew-damp. Dorian has his sword drawn and is facing off against an intruder in skintight red-and-black, wearing a mask painted with the Sheikah eye inverted. The figure cocks its head, blithely unconcerned.
"Time's up, Dorian," she announces. "We have tolerated your weakness long enough. No more; give us what we want or I will end you right here. What will your precious girls do then?"
Dorian brings his sword tip up. "I will not aid you," he snarls, "and I should like to see you try." He rushes forwards, sweeping at the woman with his blade. It doesn't connect; instead, with a faint pop the woman disappears into thin air. Dorian stumbles and swings round to search for her. A peal of laughter comes from the trees and she steps forward into the moonlight again, drawing her own viciously curved blade.
"You're pathetic," she taunts. "Old and past it. I should put you out of your misery."
Dorian squares off again, and Link moves forwards to join the fight, but before he reaches them, there's the zip of a bowstring and an arrow sprouts from her throat. The yiga woman drops to her knees, gurgling, and then collapses face-first to the floor with a pool of blood seeping slowly out around her.
Cado steps from the trees, another arrow held across his bow, but the yiga is still. Dorian looks to Cado, shocked. Cado merely nods at him.
"We should take her down to the village. Impa will want to call a meeting."
Link leans against one of the columns in the Chief's house as he watches the inner circle of Sheikah filter in. He can feel the ridges of the carvings digging into his shoulder blades, grounding him to the here-and-now. The lamplight flickers over the dim interior of the hall. Granté is lurking at the edges too, similarly unsure of his welcome.
"The Yiga have become a threat we can no longer ignore," Impa intones gravely once everyone else is seated on the cushions around her. "Everything is rising to a crescendo once more; as Ganon surges, so too will his cult. They wish to neutralise our support for the Hylian Princess and her Champion. We must cut them off at the knees, before they can cut our throat."
"That shifty character who was lurking around a few weeks ago, the painter; he must have been a spy!" Rola declares. "I knew he was suspicious!"
Impa holds a hand up for silence. "Pikango is no more a Yiga than I. He was born here, but moved away at a young age to travel with his father. I can vouch for him."
Dorian looks ten years older since yesterday, haggard and worn as he leans forward to say "This is my fault. I brought their wrath upon us. I will do whatever it takes to put this right."
Impa frowns, but it's Cado who speaks first. "You are not to blame, my friend," he says to his fellow guardsman. "The Yiga's misguided anger would turn against us with or without your presence."
"It is my doing," Dorian repeats helplessly. "I was approached by agents of the Yiga almost two moons ago, seeking information on Master Link and on the Sheikah's preparations for the upcoming battle with Ganon. They threatened to - to kill my daughters, as they did my wife." Gasps echo as Dorian continues, "I refused them, of course, but tonight must have been their final attempt to persuade me."
"We're lucky they didn't know the girls were elsewhere this evening," Claree says, one hand held to her mouth in horror.
Dorian shakes his head. "They would not have made so basic a mistake. They know my girls are all I live for; were they to actually follow through on their threat, I would have no reason to cooperate. This was a warning."
Impa purses her lips. "I think it's time we dealt more proactively with this threat. I hate to ask this of you, Dorian, but would you be willing to undertake a mission against them?"
"But Koko and Cottla -" Paya gasps.
Dorian cuts her off. "If I could swear to stay always by their side I would do so, but they will never be safe while the Yiga remain unchallenged. The best thing I can do for them is to deal with this... lingering echo of my past mistakes."
"We can continue to look after them while you're gone," Nanna offers. Lasli nods her agreement, and Dorian looks grateful.
Paya bites her lip. "I wish to go with Dorian," she directs at Impa.
"It will be too dangerous," Dorian objects. "I can't let you take such a risk on my behalf."
Link thinks this might be the first time he's ever seen Paya angry. She surges to her feet, arms held stiffly and fists clenched as she fixes Dorian with a look. "On your behalf?" she snaps. "If I wish to risk myself to ensure the safety of the Sheikah - of Hyrule - that is my business and no one else's! You are not the only one to have lost loved ones to the Yiga, Dorian."
Dorian looks shamed. "I apologise, Paya. Your parents would surely not wish to see you die to the same malevolent force that killed them both... but I understand your determination."
Impa speaks up. "I will not deny you, Paya, however it may pain me. But I would ask that you take at least one other with you, for some extra measure of safety."
"I can go," Link volunteers. This seems like the perfect opportunity to put his new resolution into practice, and involve himself in the affairs of the world beyond his own immediate goals. If he expects the Sheikah to aid him, he should be willing to do the same in return.
Impa claps her hands together. "Wonderful. Cado, Rola - I know it may be awkward, but can the two of you work on refreshing the combat training of the villagers? We should be prepared for a larger assault."
Rola nods, eyes shining with conviction. Cado looks uncomfortable, but brings his hand up to his chest in a salute. "As you wish."
It's almost dawn by the time the meeting disperses. Link considers going to lie back down for a few more hours, the soft mattress calling him like a siren song. Instead, he heads back outside - past the burned-out husk of Dorian's house standing stark against the hillside - and treks up the hill to the spirit grove for the third time in one day. Now he's alone, he can see woodland spirits bounding along in his peripheral vision, keeping pace with his steps. They squeak and vanish with a puff of blue when he accidentally strays too close, only to reappear across the clearing, owlish faces watching him with curiosity.
It's quiet when he gets to the clearing, the faint chirruping of nocturnal insects the only sound. Above, the sky is pre-dawn grey, but within the dell it's still dark and cool, lit primarily by the glow of the various spirits and plants. Link pulls out from his pocket the rice dumpling he'd saved for later, just as he pulls half-formed folklore from the well of his memory.
"I brought a gift," he calls, unfolding the oak leaves from around the dessert and setting it down at the edge of the pool. "I'd like to speak to you."
For a long moment, the only answer is silence. Then a sudden rush of wind whips the long grasses of the clearing into a frenzy, kicking up loose leaves from the forest floor and sending ripples racing across the surface of the pool. Then a woman - no, a creature wearing the appearance of a woman - is suddenly there, perched on one of the rocks lining the water's edge with the dumpling held in her hand.
"Well met, little traveller," she calls. "I acknowledge your gift."
Her eyes are the same blue as her pond; her skin the colour of fresh peach; her face framed by flax-gold hair. All plausible hues, for a Hylian - and yet. The leafy branches curving like horns behind her ears are a more obvious clue to her nature, of course. That, and her outfit. It's more foliage than clothing, vines curling idly down her forearms and broad leaves wrapping around her midriff. Her voice sounds normal enough when Link focuses on it - pleasantly warm, and slightly sultry - but underneath, it sounds like wind through trees; water over rocks.
She polishes the dumpling off in two bites, and licks her fingers fussily afterwards. "Adequate," she pronounces. "Though I have little enough room to complain, these days. The villagers maintain this grove well enough, but the young ones forget the old ways. No one brings me treats any more." She bats her eyelashes at him in mock-despair. "What's a girl to do?"
"I'll remind them," Link says, feeling bemused. This isn't going how he'd envisioned, so far.
"I'd appreciate that. You're looking lonesome, dear. Where's your shadow?"
"Do you mean the Princess?"
The fairy laughs, and it sounds like the burble of a mountain brook. "If anything, you're her shadow, surely?" She laughs again at his blush. "Relax, I'm only teasing. Last time I met you, one of ours travelled with you. Shall I call another sprite to accompany you? Or you could stay here with me, if you prefer - I'm very good company."
He shudders. "I'm fine, thank you. On both fronts." Her offer of a companion has stirred faint memories - hey, listen! echoes at the reaches of his mind.
"Your loss, sweetling. What can I do for you then?"
Link hesitates. "I just wanted to see whether the tales were true, that this place is protected. I need to leave soon, and a Yiga managed to come here tonight, to burn down one of the houses. I'm worried for them, with Ganon rising once more."
The fairy curls her lip at him. "You're treading a fine line, elf-boy," she rebukes, and now the undertone of her voice is more like snake's hiss. Link is suddenly certain that one of the other skins she could wear would involve far more teeth than this. For a second, her eyes are solid, vibrant green.
"I meant no disrespect," he clarifies, hands out in a placating gesture. "The villagers didn't seem sure whether there was any truth to the legend, that's all."
She huffs. "If you don't think I take my duty to this place seriously, I suggest you go see how the rest of this sorry land is faring these days. My villagers have peace, and pure water; bountiful harvests and plentiful game. I keep monsters from their woods, and the blight from their fields. Doing any more than that is beyond me while my sisters are so weakened."
"Sisters?"
"There are four of us. Well... five, technically, but Malanya is... odd. But the others have been hit hard by falling belief, this last century. If you can help restore us to our true power, perhaps we can be of more use."
Another task is hardly what Link wanted, coming here. He sighs. "I'll do what I can. Thank you for speaking with me."
"Mm-hm. For you, sweet thing, any time. Do you know whether the villagers still make that bracken jelly? You should tell them to bring me some - that's my favourite."
With a giggle like the trilling call of a songbird, she dives into the pool and is gone; its surface is glass-smooth once more.
Dawn is breaking as Link finally flops down onto his borrowed bed again. He means to close his eyes, get a few hours more sleep, but he's too awake now. He pulls out the slate to browse through the images from last night instead. The picture of the Champions Paya had found had sparked an idea in him, and he'd passed the slate around at the festival to let people capture the bright moments of the evening.
There's one of his arm wrestling contest with Cado, and then a few more of the other challengers who followed him. Some beautifully-composed shots of the ornamental carp in the pond, helpfully tagged - that will be Paya. One of Paya and Lasli posing playfully with their fingers held up by their temples. Rola asleep on the table, Claree threading stalks of grass into her hair. Himself shirtless and flexing, which he doesn't remember; he covers his eyes in embarrassment but doesn't delete it. The whole idea of this, documenting the new Hyrule, is to have something positive to show Zelda if... when she returns.
It already feels like the festivities depicted here happened an age ago. He supposes he should be grateful Ganon and his minions allowed even one evening of fun, but the real world has definitively made it to Kakariko.
Notes: The star festival is based on a real Japanese festival! It felt like a good fit for the Sheikah, and a festival felt like a good way to get to know some of the residents of the village a bit better. I honestly did try to research the timeline/detail of Dorian's past, but turned up very little, so if this contradicts anything feel free to drop me a note and I will correct. Also: more fae fairies! I just really like the idea of them being more elemental type forces.