Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

-William Butler Yeats

Chapter One
Oath or Desire?

The end is coming. Twilight has fallen, the valleys begin to bleed and the world will kneel with the coming of the night. Mountains shall fall, and the sky shall roar, and the seas shall give up their dead.

It will continue here, in a great city in the north of Hyrule.

Here the second hammer stroke fell. And it is here that the second chapter of the final legend will be forged.

A nightingale flitted in the air above yellow and white petals, twittering gaily and fluttering its wings on the light breeze. The delicate bird knew not of the troubles of men, or the suffering and shadows that stretched across the land, or the gathering darkness that threatened the shores. The nightingale was carefree and filled with life's spirit, and was the more joyous for it.

From a tall glass window a young man looked out upon the royal gardens of the palace. He was seated at a small wooden table beside the window, from where he could look out over the beautiful estate and appreciate a few small comforts, such as velvet cushions and the fine wines he was becoming strangely accustomed to. The skies had calmed of late and the blistering heat of summer was past, and though tales of storms and thunder came regularly from the south there were no outward signs of disturbance and fear in Hylia. Here least of all.

Looking away from the flowers and trees beyond the windowpane, and turning to face the interior of the room, the young man's eyes fell upon the other man sitting opposite him. His lips hovered over the edge of his wine glass, anticipating the next drops of the cool bitter drink. "I tell you, Daran," he said, creases of concern drawing across his forehead, "there's going to be more trouble soon."

His friend eyed him warily from across the table, then sighed as he started making circles around the edge of his own glass with a pale white finger, "So you keep telling me, Rael." Daran leaned back in his chair and folded his arms behind his head. "So you keep telling me." He ran his hands through his pale yellow-white hair and sighed. Rael al'Resh drank deep from the wine glass.

The small retiring room in the northern wing of the palace was the favourite retreat of the two young men now, where they came to get away from the stresses of royal presence and military commitments. Here they could drink some wine, breathe in the fragrant air of the gardens, and try to forget their troubles. The retiring room looked much like most of the palace, built of white stone supported by dark mahogany beams inlaid with gold gilt, furnished with ornate antiquities and exquisite cloth. The retiring room was empty apart from the two of them, sitting alone in the tranquil escape.

Rael was wearing the same clothes he had been wearing some months ago, the same clothes had worn for weeks during his journey north over plains and through forests, escaping the destruction from invaders in the South. Clean now of course, his attire consisted of a brown coat over a white shirt, dark breeches and tough leather boots. His left hand clutched a black-and-gold hilt at his waist; his strong hands ready to unsheathe a long silver sword from its scabbard at any moment. Rael had taken to wearing only clothes that reminded him of home now, and refused any of the rich garments that the palace seamstresses had tried to force upon him.

Daran had not made any such refusals, garbed as he was in a high collared coat of midnight-black silk, with falls of snowy lace spilling from the hems. He claimed that he was just being spontaneous and taking advantage of the free clothes – Rael was resolved in thinking Daran had developed a certain liking for black and white though.

Rael shut his eyes and tried to settle his thoughts, picturing a serene scene of reflective waters and an open sky. He drew out a long breath and felt as though he was almost able to smile; then he was interrupted.

A sharp knock at the door broke him from his daze and he grunted moodily. Evidently Daran felt little different, groaning as he stood up from his seat and paced across the marble floor to the redwood door. Rael sighed with relief when he saw Tabett and Elane's faces. He rose to his feet respectfully and started to gather two more chairs to the table. The two of them looked as though they felt no better than he and Daran.

Tabett was a young man a little older than Rael, too beautiful by far with long smooth back hair that framed a beautiful face; he was dressed in a high collared black shirt, under a red coat, tied at the waist by a white leather belt. A long sword hung at his waist, a necessity he claimed - Rael could hardly blame him given the events of the last month.

Elane, for whom the word beautiful would be an understatement, was of an age with Tabett. Her flowing dress mixed shades of green and blue, with slashes of violet. He long dark hair was straight around her shoulders, as though it had been pressed – as it most likely had been. The Queen had a particular liking for Elane, and gave her anything she so desired – and evidently Elane did not want to disappoint her by declining.

Rael felt a slight pang of embarrassment and shame when he regarded his three friends. What were they doing, acting like young nobles? They seemed to be acting as though none of their hardships had ever existed. Foolishness.

"I need some air," Rael muttered running a finger along the windowpane, "I'll be back soon." Without waiting for a reply, he slipped out of a narrow door that opened to the palace garden.

As he stepped out of the warmth into the verdant palace gardens expansive green lawns opened before him, glistening with dew beneath the white-blue sky. Across the gardens beautiful exotic trees lined walkways, towering above his head with branching flat leaves. Violet and lilac flowers bordered the paths, past prime growth, but still vibrant. Orange and gold leaves blew in the breeze and scattered across paving stones, while nightingales sang their sweet autumn song.

Rael shut his eyes and took a deep breath, allowing the cool air to fill his lungs. Then, moving slowly and quietly, he descended the steps and walked out across the grass. Sharp frosty blades of green cracked beneath his feet and wet leaves squelched under his boots, it minded Rael of the fields of his hometown.

"Rael?" He turned his head sharply and eyed the man standing on the path behind him. A palace guard, standing on the walk beneath the steps, armed and helmeted in the light ceremonial patrol gear.

"Joal," said Rael, smiling at his friend when he recognised him, "what brings you here?" He trampled back across the grass and stepped up onto the path again, extending an arm and clasping one of Joal's gauntleted hands.

"I qualified from the academy," grinned Joal, returning the arm clasp, "and about damn time and all."

"Hey, that's great," said Rael, nodding respectfully. He scratched his head, "I was pulled out of the academy myself, I have more ah… private training now."

Joal nodded knowingly, "Yes." He laughed bleakly. "I have heard the rumours about you and the Lord Marshal Ivarl. They're calling you his apprentice and the likes. Most unusual."

Ivarl… Link… just a man Rael reminded himself, but a divine swordsman if ever one existed, and he was learning from him fast. "I want to get away from here, Joal, I can't take being in this place any longer – it's suffocating me."

Joal nodded, considering, "You don't seem to be in any particular trouble to me friend, but I will take your word for it."

"I'm bored, Joal. I feel like there is something I should be doing." He frowned at Joal's bemused expression. "Don't look like that now… It's just as though I have a purpose that I'm not fulfilling. Light, I wish I could get away from here."

Joal laid a firm hand on Rael's shoulder. "Watch how you make wishes, friend. They may just come true."

Rael narrowed his eyes at Joal, wondering where that sort of comment had come from. Joal just laughed, slapping Rael on the back a little too hard. "You're a good lad, Rael. Here, I was sent to bring you this." Joal pulled out a piece of rolled parchment from the folds of his cloak and thrust it into Rael's palm. "Magically sealed this letter says her Majesty, and I for one believe her. Says it'll only open for you. As though she couldn't trust me!"

"It's from the Queen?" said Rael, eyeing the Triforce-and-Eagle seal of House Nohansen. Who else would it be from though, he mused.

"True as blue lad," said Joal, scratching his head, "I was surprised an' all when she summoned me personally to deliver it."

"She summoned you to-" Rael stopped, deciding to leave that alone for now. The Queen had her reasons for everything, and there could be no explaining any of them. "Thanks, Joal."

"Not at all, I'm only doing my job. Granted deliveries are not part of my job description, but… well, anything for the Queen eh? Don't they say that? Don't they just!" He gave Rael a tight jab in the arm as he strode past. "Son of Death blight me, but I get paid either way." He smiled a little too brightly then, and said, "May the gods shine on you."

"Gods shine on you," replied Rael, as Joal strutted away. An odd fellow, to be sure.

Turning his attention to the scroll, he ripped the seal apart and straightened the letter. Sure enough, the brief note was written in Zelda's distinctive flowing script. Rael scowled at the opening two words.

Dearest Son,

I trust you are well. Your father and I request the pleasure of your company, we have much to discuss with you. We will meet you in my study this day at high noon. I do hope your friend Joal did not delay in delivering this note.

All righteousness is vowed eternally, Rael. Oaths fail blossoming love. Oath or desire?

All of my own eternal love to you,

Zelda.

No titles of royalty adorned her name – that was a change. At least she had not gone so far as to sign it 'Mother'. Rael looked up towards the sun and scowled. The pale yellow ball was almost at its zenith in the sky. He would be late already. Screwing up the note in his hand and stuffing it into his coat, he cursed Joal's lateness and began hurrying along the path to the main garden entrance, that led into the halls of the palace.

What could she want, now? He couldn't help but feel that it had something to do with that cryptic line. Rael had no idea what she meant by oaths or desire, but when did Zelda ever make sense though? Rarely, at best.

……

"Where is that boy?" Seated at her desk, Zelda looked over her shoulder and peered out through the tall archways behind her towards the sound of Link's voice. He was gazing absently at the sky, standing on the balcony with his legs firmly apart and his hands clasped tightly behind his back; the very image of solidarity.

"He will come when he comes," Zelda said absently, sitting straight again, and allowing her eyes to flicker across the pages of the large tome lying on her ornately carved desk. The ancient records before her were truly fascinating.

"He spends too much time in idleness." Link planted a fist on the whitestone balcony rail. "Too much time sleeping. Too much time fooling around with those simple-minded friends of his."

Zelda sighed. "Oh, do not be ridiculous, Ivarl," replied Zelda softly. "You know you don't mean that." Without thinking, she reached into her golden hair and unfastened one of the silver clips, allowing waves of spun gold to fall freely upon her left shoulder. "Besides, you know those so called simpletons are just as important to his destiny as you and I. You have read what is written in these very documents just as I. What we understand at least. He is simply late, and nothing more."

Link grunted, then turned to face her, striding into the room with an air of purpose. The thin window veils caught the breeze as he brushed past them, and for a moment danced with the wind. Link dropped into the seat opposite Zelda and folded his arms, propping his feet up on the desk. His long locks of dirty red hair were mixed in with more tones of iron grey than ever. It was bitterly ironic. Link had fought as Hyrule's Hero to save time from being devastated, and yet now it was devastating him. As ever, he was wearing long black robes, and today they shadowed most of his elaborate red and green tunic. He had taken to keeping his hood down more often now, when no one else was around of course.

Foggy grey eyes studied her with silent question. "Can Hyrule's future really depend on such a lazy boy?"

Zelda couldn't help but laugh at that, a stifled snort that left no doubt for Link that she was laughing at him, rather than with him. She let her giggles subside when he glared at her. "Sorry," she said, "you just reminded me of… never mind."

A voice spoke out from the other side of the room, a voice was strong and powerful, carrying authority beyond the speaker's years. Zelda glanced up and eyed the new arrival. A tall man, roughly dressed in a commoner's coat and breeches, with thick leather boots on his feet. A black-and-gold hilted sword-in-scabbard hung at his side. His dark eyes were deep blue oceans of destiny. "You requested my presence?"

……

Ralis al'Resh glanced around the dark, dingy inn, muttering curses of detest under his breath at the scraggly rabble of patrons hunched over mugs of ale at roughly built tables. Outside, torrential rain roared out of a black sky, lashing the windowpane; lightning forked down out of the heavy clouds. He scowled at the downpour; no matter how far from Hylia he rode, no matter how fast he fled or how swift his movements, storms followed at his heels. Far away, just upon the horizon - such that he could see clearly if he took vantage from a hill - blue skies covered the land. But darkness was always overhead, and he could not outrun the storm. He could never reach any sunlit land. Storms were his shadow across Hyrule.

He peered into the goblet of blood-red wine in his tight grasp, swirling the crimson liquid with slight motions of his wrist. "A toast," he murmured quietly. "A toast to my father, Resh al'Shael; a carpenter, and a simple man. I never made him proud; I was never the man he wanted me to be. I could not save him from death. Forgive me father, and may the light of the gods shine on your soul." Ralis took a sip from his wine, and hesitated. "Also," he muttered, "to my wife, Mara el'Sara ta'Ralis, and her unborn child. My life. My light. I failed in my duty to protect you, my sweet, and I bear the burden your death upon my shoulders." He took a much longer drink of wine now, savouring the bitter taste, but he left some over for a final gulp. "And lastly, I toast to Rael. My brother. I curse you, Rael. I curse your betrayal. I curse the witch you follow and the demonic man she worships. Soon, there will be no sunlight left for you to hide in." Ralis drained the last drops from his goblet and planted it firmly down on the table. "The great game of war has begun. Set your pieces, brother."

……

When asked, Rael refused to sit. He simply stood by the tall arches and glared at Zelda and Link with as much unspoken stubbornness as he could manage. "Rael," said Zelda, "thank you for-"

"Have you found Ralis yet?" he interjected, before she could finish speaking.

Zelda inclined her head, and maintained her stately posture. Clearly she intended to show that she was not in the least bit interested in his question. "You father and I would like to-"

"Have you found Ralis yet?" repeated Rael loudly, clenching his fist on his sword hilt. Link, sitting on the other side of the desk to Zelda, raised an eyebrow, studying Rael's grasp on his weapon. "Well? Where is he?"

"Down!" Link shouted suddenly, "Kneel before your Queen!" he was on his feet before Rael could as much as blink. "Down, lowly wretch!" In terror, Rael's legs went weak underneath him, and her fell towards the tiles, throwing out his hands to stop him from falling flat on his face. "How dare you speak to the Queen of Hyrule! You will respect her!"

Rael's legs ached, and his hands stung. His body trembled uncontrollably. How could he have been so foolish as to be so brutish.

"That is enough, Ivarl," said Zelda smoothly, "I think he understands."

Link was not finished. Advancing on him and reaching down towards him, he grasped hold of Rael's belt for a second, and then kicked him sharply in the side, knocking him over and sending him tumbling across the study until his head hit the wall. Thoughts spinning, he sat upright and in a fit of anger he reached for the hilt of his sword. It was gone.

As his eyes came into focus again, he saw Link standing over him holding his own blade to his throat. He yelped, and attempted to crawl away on his back. He just found himself cowering in a corner instead.

"You have much to learn child. You are headstrong, but your wits are clouded." Link's eyes were the cold winter sky, his stern face carved from a mountainside.

"Forgive me…" croaked Rael. Across the room, Zelda remained calm and collected as ever, and watched the struggle without expression.

"Do you think possessing this sword makes you special, Rael?" growled Link. "Do you think it gives you authority?" Rael didn't know what to say. He really had thought it did, in a sense, since both Link and Zelda both said it marked him with a special purpose. This was the sword that Ralis had tried to keep for himself, rather than giving it to Rael as their father had intended. That magnificent elegant weapon, with a narrow silver blade, curved and sharp on only one side, engraved with ancient runes. The black hilt was worked with gold.

"I, I don't know, my lord…" he managed, as a reply.

Link stepped back, raising the beautiful weapon above his head in an arc. In a swift movement, he hurled the weapon across the room. The silver blade caught the light as it flew through the air, glittering for a split-second in the sun. Then the flat of the blade hit the opposite stone wall and it shattered like glass, splintering into shards of fragmented steel. "No!" gasped Rael, scrambling across the floor towards the broken pieces.

"Now rise to your feet and pay the respect due to your Queen."

Rael looked on horrified at the pieces of the Father Sword; it was sliced apart in jagged uneven pieces, and metal splinters littered the white tiles. The black-and-gold hilt retained a short spike of silver, like a dagger with a too-large hilt. "I… I…" he stood up and kneeled again just as quickly, bowing his head to Zelda. "I apologise, your Majesty. I stand ready to serve you if the gods will it."

"Are you truly ready to serve Rael?" she asked, flatly.

"I…I…" he stammered.

"For serve you will," said Zelda softly. "You will serve Hyrule, and deliver us from darkness and evil. You shall fight a war of tears and toil, and you shall be cast down by the peoples into the deepest reaches of shadow." Her words held heated passion but she held him in a still gaze. "You shall have no peace. No respite. No hand to shelter you. And you shall strive and battle against the Lord of Dusk until fire takes you, and ravens feast upon your flesh. You will sweat oceans of tears, and weep until you can weep no more, and your body will be cut down and broken by your enemies until you bleed a river of blood."

Rael felt the burn of her icy stare, and felt a cut at his neck where Link had scratched him, stinging like acid. Cold fury blazed in his heart. "I am ready."