Perched, light as a zephyr, upon the opposite end of the sword embedded in the chest cavity of his fallen opponent, the Shadow contemplated the face of the Hylian he'd been ordered to hunt down and kill almost the moment his eyes had opened to this world. Link, the Shadow's Master, Ganondorf, had called the Hylian, spitting the name like a curse. Pale and angular, with straw-colored hair and eyes that had been a lively blue, Link's face… stirred something in the Shadow's chest. He wondered what.

Deep, sinister laughter seemed to waltz on the breeze before fading eerily away.

The blade, which had glowed blue with a fierce inner light as they'd fought, was now dormant, as lifeless as the body it skewered. The Shadow pondered if it had its own inner power or if it had been tied to the Hero's life force.

He studied his own sword. Quiet now, it, too, had gleamed tenebrifically during the battle. It appeared to be almost a negative of the Hero's: the same length and breadth, identical geometric symbol— Triforce, came a non-whisper from nowhere— etched near the hilt of both; one a bright silver, the other a slash of steel-gray outlined in deep charcoal. The hilt of the Hero's sword was a deep, royal purple wound with a light teal ribbon from avian crossguard to squared pommel; his own mirrored it in black as dark as pitch shot through with crimson. A jewel of deep gold set in the center of the other's quillon block; his own swirled a fathomless bloodred.

The Shadow was curious for the first time about his appearance. If his sword was a mirror of the Hylian's, did the same hold true for the Shadow himself? Indeed, his clothing seemed to be very similar to the Hero's, though in grayscale instead of greens and blues, but it could just be a very common style, he reasoned. His skin seemed to have a grayish tint to it where the Hero's had been a… light peachy tan? He didn't know. The water beneath him was rippling enough to obscure his reflection, so he set his thoughts aside for the time being.

The fight had been long and brutal; the Shadow had not come out unscathed. The Hero had proven exceptionally skilled and nimble, but the Shadow had been created for only one thing: ending the Hero. A stroke of luck— the Hylian had just won a battle against a silver Lynel that had left him wounded and weakened when the Shadow'd arrived, flush with newborn strength and vigor— had ensured the Shadow's victory.

The Shadow's Master, Ganondorf, had poured all the knowledge the Shadow would need, along with all his malevolence and hatred for the bright-haired Hylian into a mold and breathed purpose into the kiln. When the Shadow had solidified, Ganondorf had touched his thumb to the Shadow's forehead, murmuring a spell in an ancient tongue. As he'd spoken quietly, the topmost triangle on the back of his hand had glowed brightly and the Shadow's eyes had popped open.

The Master had said, "I must possess the Triforce in its entirety if I am to make Hyrule mine. I will not allow that meddlesome Hero," he'd sneered the word, "to thwart me this time. Go forth, Shadow, and destroy Link, the Chosen Hero of Hyrule. Only then will the path to the Triforce open to me." He had then opened a magic portal and shoved the Shadow through to land in this forest glen, where the Hero had been staggering, limping and exhausted from his victory over the Lynel, blood still pouring from fresh wounds.

Looming largest of all was the question of what the Shadow was to do now that his purpose had been fulfilled. He had not been supplied with a way to open a portal back to the Master and had no idea where Ganondorf's lair was. He doubted his return was desired, anyway; he had completed his one and only task. Returning would likely only lead to his destruction.

He didn't want that. He'd only been alive an hour or so.

His musings were interrupted by a chorus of bells in three distinct, harmonious timbres.

"Oh, my," a soprano voice tinkled sadly.

"Oh," joined a distressed alto chime.

"Well." The tenor jangle was succinct and inscrutable.

The Shadow turned slightly on his perch to see three incredibly beautiful women standing at the edge of the shallow pool of water in which the Hero's body lay.

"So, it is true," the first voice, the high-pitched one, tinkled again. The Shadow had never heard the like— indeed, had never heard a voice at all, other than Ganondorf's and the grunts both the Hero and the Shadow himself had made during battle. The sounds coming from the women's throats seemed to be accompanied by a chorus of bells from... somewhere. The Shadow somehow knew it was special; as stunning as the women themselves were.

He wondered where that thought had come from.

The one who'd spoken was slender and fluidly graceful, her hair a wavy mass of oceanic green and blue ebbing to charcoal near her waist, her eyes twin crystals of ice that reflected the blue around her, her skin porcelain bordering on translucent. The dress she wore was a deep, midnight blue at the shoulders— slit at the shoulder seam, reunited at the elbow, and flared into deep bell sleeves that were probably a menace for anything but aesthetics— but faded to nearly-white where the hem foamed into the grass. The upper edges, along the neckline and sleeves, seemed to sparkle— reflecting what, he didn't know, as the sky was an endless gray— and the whole thing flowed like a waterfall. A delicate silver diadem danced in tiny waves around her head, a sapphire with three circles framed by three crescent moons set in a triangular pattern dipped low on her forehead.

"Wait, did– did you not believe me?" the mezzo bell-voice demanded. Her long, sleek hair was a riot of every imaginable shade of green, the ends constantly being toyed with by some otherworldly breeze, and her eyes sparkled like fathomless jades. Her skin was a deep, rich brown, and she was more voluptuous than the woman in blue, with gracious hips and wide shoulders. Her strapless dress seemed to be made up entirely of leaves and blossoms in shades ranging from decaying-black and forest green to crimson and lilac, daisy yellow to sunset orange; it looked as though Spring itself had risen up from the forest floor to wrap lovingly around her. An intricate network of white-gold branches twined its way around her head, the emerald resting at her hairline depicting a sphere and two increasing crescents to its right.

If the first two were the embodiments of water and wind, the third figure was fire incarnate. Her sleeveless dress blazed in reds, oranges, and yellows, each movement seeming to leave inky smoke to dissipate in the air, like the edges of a mirage, obscuring the lines of her body. Her skin was the color of someone who'd once been the same peachy hue as the fallen Hero, but had spent extensively long hours outdoors, though the sun's kiss was applied so evenly that it was obviously natural. Delicate flames of spun gold crowned the fiery tresses wafting around her as though her body created its own breeze, the circlet anchored by a garnet suspended mid-forehead that was inset with three wavy lines, the right end of the top line and the left end of the bottom line both sprouting a sphere. A firestorm raged in her carnelian eyes, though she seemed calm and… amused?

"Of course I did," the one in blue placated. "It's just… a bit difficult to accept. This was not supposed to happen. It's never happened before."

The Shadow didn't like the insinuation. He had fulfilled his task, damn it. He stepped down into the water finally, turning to face them fully, but had only taken a single step when—

"Oh!" all three bell-voices rang out together, a cacophony of surprise and alarm.

The Shadow turned in time to see the citrine jewel in the fallen Hero's sword glow as it had during the battle. It grew by leaps and bounds in brightness and intensity until, finally, it went supernova, forcing the Shadow to bring his arm up and shield his eyes.

When the piercing light dimmed, the Hero's sword was gone, and another woman was standing next to the Hero's body. Well, no, he corrected himself. Though feminine of figure, this being was obviously different from the other three; for one, she wasn't standing so much as hovering at around knee height. Her head and "hair" were all one solid piece— like a carved figurine— a silvery blue in color, even her eyes. That same hue continued down her left side, but there wasn't an arm hidden under the cloak, he saw, nor was it really a cloak; it was a wing. Fairy, he realized. Her right wing and torso— all the way down to the "skirt's" hem at mid-thigh— were a deep purple; on her chest shone a large diamond framed in gleaming gold. Her legs were charcoal-gray limned with silver and wrapped with the same light teal as had adorned the handle of the Hero's sword. Interesting. He may not have noticed had he not been studying the object in question just moments ago, but the resemblance was undeniable.

When she spoke, the Fairy's voice did not have the musical bell quality the other three all shared. In fact, she did not speak aloud at all; in his head, she sounded sharp and dry and hollow, echoing for half a beat after each syllable as she addressed them without inflection. It was also the same voice that had whispered Triforce when he was comparing his blade to the Hero's. Interesting. "Greetings, Golden Goddesses three. Do not despair. Though the Shadow has slain the Chosen Hero, all is not lost." She turned to him directly; her eyes were unnerving, but he could not make himself look away. "Greetings, Shadow. We bear you no ill will. You are strong and brave. You have done well."

"Uhh… Okay?" The 'we' confused him, and the Shadow didn't bother to hide it— she was in his head, after all. Surely she could see all the 'What the fuck?'s bouncing around in there. The knowledge his Master (former Master?) had infused him with included three of those present, now that they'd been positively identified for him: Nayru, the Goddess of Wisdom; Din, the Goddess of Power; and Farore, the Goddess of Courage. Surely they resented him for killing their Hero?

"I am Fi, the Goddess Sword. And while it is true that there is a Destiny that must be fulfilled, it does not necessarily follow that Link of Hateno Village is the only one capable of doing so." It was disconcerting, the way she communicated with no emotion. Ganondorf had been all fire and passion and hatred; the Goddesses, too, spoke with fervor and zest in their oddly musical voices.

"That's what I said," the green one, Farore, said. She looked at the Shadow. "Oh, those eyes are something else, aren't they?"

The Shadow blinked in confusion, breaking eye contact with the floating being. What about his eyes?

"Oh, of course you don't know. You were just born this morning," Nayru, in blue, reasoned. Know what?

"But certainly not the weakest Link, are you?" the fiery one, Din, added. Was that... a joke?

"Hey," Farore said. "The Chosen was a fine Hero; he was just… outmatched," she finished, astonishment and forced positivity clouding both her bell-tones and the upturn of her lips. She was the Goddess of Courage; she had Chosen the fallen Hero.

Oh. Absurdly, it crossed his mind to apologize.

He didn't, of course.

Fi was still peering at the Shadow with her eerie, featureless eyes. "Be well, Shadow, for you have completed admirably the duty set before you by your former Master, Ganondorf. Though different paths are now drawn, nothing is as yet carved in the records of Time. There is hope, still, to stave off the gathering darkness. The warlock created you from his venom and spite, but are those not feelings of passion which may be soothed and molded into more constructive ones?"

What?

"Worry not, Shadow Link. All will be made clear to you in time." She turned back to the Goddesses. "Until we meet again," the Shadow heard it in his head, too, though he assumed it was directed at the others. And then she… blinked out of existence, a tiny, midair twinkle all that remained for a suspended moment before it, too, winked out.

"Well, that settles it," Farore declared. She looked confidently at the Shadow. "Ganondorf created you as a Shadow of Link the Hero, charged with defeating the Chosen Hero of Hyrule." Her voice took on several extra bell-tones as she declared brazenly, "I, Farore, Goddess of Courage, Choose you, Shadow of Link, to fulfill the destiny of the Hero of Hyrule."

"No." His refusal was immediate and unequivocal.

"Yes," she countered in kind, bells ringing extra-insistently, echoing in the space. "And to help you along your journey, you will be given a Companion Fairy."

"Keep it," he insisted.

"Navi!" she trilled, and clapped her hands once, sharply.

A tiny, floating firefly-like creature popped into existence an arm's length from his face. Startled and irritated, he drew his sword and batted it out of the sky.

"Hey!" it squeaked at him, annoyed and annoying from the ground at his feet.

"This is going to be entertaining," deadpanned the fiery Din as the Sprite picked itself up and dusted itself off.

The Shadow ignored the looming Sword of Damocles to ask Nayru, the most easygoing and approachable of the three, "What about my eyes?"

She gazed steadily at him for a moment, then made a sweeping gesture at the water at their feet. A thin layer of liquid separated itself from the rippling pool, smoothing out and solidifying into a full-length mirror, which she then positioned in front of the Shadow.

"Ah." His eyes were a solid red while the rest of him was, as he had seen, a study in grayscale, including his sword, scabbard, and shield. It made sense, he supposed, if he was just an amalgamation of Ganondorf's negative feelings.

What didn't make sense was the notion of him, the Shadow of Link— no, Shadow Link, taking up the mantle of 'Hero'. Suddenly, the Sprite was hovering above his left shoulder in the water-mirror. Without hesitation, he lifted his hand and swatted the tiny pest out of the sky again.

"Hey! Listen!" it squawked indignantly.

"You must seek out the Living Goddess, Hylia. She resides in Hyrule Castle and answers to the name of Zelda," Farore said.

"No." He really was not having it.

"Yes," all four voices responded at once.

He looked at each of the three divine beings, then at the little Companion Fairy just getting back to its feet on the ground, sheathed his sword, turned on his heel, and began walking, no destination in mind other than away.


Farore frowned after the Shadow Hero. She was not wrong. This was the path to defeating Ganondorf, and ultimately Demise, she was certain. She turned to look sadly at the fallen Hero.

Nayru put her hand on Farore's shoulder. "You heard Fi, sister. Fear not.

"Navi," she said, and the Sprite flew to eye-level with her.

"Yes, Your Grace?" she drew herself up at attention, tiny, translucent wings beating madly behind her.

"Stay with him. Help him. Guide him. Hyrule must have a Hero, or all will fall to darkness."

"Yes, Your Grace." She curtsied to each of the Golden Goddesses before zooming after the Shadow.

Farore knelt beside the Fallen Hero, leaned over, and kissed his forehead. A golden glow suffused his body for a moment, and then he was gone.

Din rested her hand reassuringly atop Farore's right shoulder; Nayru's lay lightly upon the left again.

A moment later, the glen was empty.