A/N: Ever heard of the Mariana Trench? It's the deepest point in the world, reaching a depth of 11km. For years, I've been fascinated by the deep sea, so of course the Mariana Valley in this fic was loosely inspired by that wonder of our own world.
Also *screams* WE GOT THE TRAILER, THE RELEASE DATE, AND THE NAME FOR THE NEXT ZELDA GAME, GUYS! (gender neutral) I actually proofread this chapter while staying up until midnight to watch the Nintendo direct a few days ago. I'll still be writing and posting this fic once it's released, so I wonder if it'll inspire some future elements of this story?
The Light Invasion
PART II - LIFT THE LIGHT
Region by region, dungeon by dungeon, trial by trial, Link and Midna build a fragile trust.
Chapter 24 - The Frigid Valley
Upon Hyrule's Snowpeak, they said that the cold winds crashed upon you like ocean waves. It did more than freeze you to your core: it would toss you and turn you and strangle you, violent and angry, as if you had angered the goddesses themselves.
The Mariana Valley, however, was a different kind of chill. Every snowflake was still, undisturbed, until a foolish light dweller such as he waded through their midst, kicking up soft plumes. There was the uncanny feeling that Link was the frog swimming, ignorantly, in a pot of water slowly climbing to a boil, except instead of a boil, it was a biting chill.
At the beginning of Link's wander into the valley, the snow glittered like the spirit springs in the midday sun. Now, as the cloak of darkness thickened, it was as dull as parchment. Simply a ghostly sheet lining the valley for miles. Creeping up mountains and flowing down into the unseen depths.
As Link wandered deeper down one of many inclines that ribboned the valley, the darkness gradually thinned out the light. He understood a little better why the Twili found the light so oppressive, now that he finally got some relief from it. Still, darkness was no comfort. Not when, back in Hyrule, his friends, family, and comrades still suffered under its mantle.
This quest seemed designed to make him hate every time of day: eternal night, invasive daylight, and vengeful twilight, all striving to devour each other.
Cold pinched at his fingertips. He rubbed his hands together, blew warm air on them, and kept them deep under his armpits for some relief. How he missed the crackling fires of Ordon. The summer days. Even the sweat on his brow from a hard day's work.
He missed Uli's steaming pumpkin soup, the fires burning on Rusl's gathered wood, Pergie's knitted quilts, and Ilia's warm hugs. He missed the way Colin's smile or Link the Cat's purrs or Talo copying his favourite swordman's moves made him feel inside.
On his next step, the snow crumbled beneath him. Link's stomach lurched as he fell face first, and then he was tumbling down the valley, and he was scrambling for purchase: a rock, a ledge, a root, any buried miracle to save him from a sickening crunch against the valley's base.
Something black lashed out. Latched his wrist. Smooth and cool in texture just like those shadow tendrils back in Ordon. It hoisted him back onto the snow-trodden path. Link seized the tendril, ripped it off his wrist, and scrambled back until his spine hit yet more snow.
"'Wow, thanks for saving my life again, Midna,'" the imp mimicked. She hovered down to his line of view, arms crossed. Despite the darkness, the snow helped outline her figure.
"Sorry," he said. "Thanks."
She sighed. "I get that you're wary around shadow tendrils, but I need you to –for lack of a better phrase– get over it, okay? This magic can save as much as it hurts. It's basically the same as what Nova used to stitch up your wounds, remember?" Wounds that had healed neater than any treated by a Hyrulean medic ever could. Link nodded sheepishly. He wouldn't last long on his quest if he confused every lifeline for a snake.
As they continued down the path, Midna hovered beside him as he took things slow. Whenever he was particularly uncertain about his next step, Midna would skewer the snow with her shadows and indicate sure footing.
It was nice not having to trudge through this valley alone. While he would've rather had Rusl or Ilia or maybe even Ashei by his side (her temper might be a refreshing warmth), Midna was better than having no one at all. It was telling, really. Back in Hyrule, he felt the need to give his shadow a second look, afraid that he'd do one thing or other that would cause it to spring for his blood. That was a stupid way to think of her, caused by unfortunate experiences and the misguided beliefs of his comrades. Really, it was as clear as the skies above that he always had his own guardian in his shadow. A guardian as snappy as a skullfish, sure, but one who –no matter how much she snipped and snarled and fumed– would always catch him if he fell.
He wasn't ready to trust her with his life yet, no, but he was glad that she took up that burden of her own accord.
On the snow-draped ridges and paths around the valley, what once seemed to be the occasional shadow of a rock or ruin shaped into something strange. Sinister. Distant figures watching over him with lamplight eyes. White eyes. Whenever he tried to focus on any which one, they melted into the darkness, only to emerge again in his periphery.
Tuushu had mentioned something about this valley being the prison, the punishment, of the worst criminals in history, and that pier over the gaping expanse seemed like it served a purpose more sinister than a lookout. What was eeriest of all, however, was how some of these ghosts seemed to recognise him, or something about him at the very least.
It was moments like these when the wisp of a memory, a short exchange long forgotten, would arise.
"My wife's trusted advisor, Lord Auru Hietala, told us of a cursed mirror at our betrothal banquet," said Fabian. "This mirror had supposedly cast criminals into the dark world."
"Midna," Link asked. "I'm not… the first light dweller to come to this realm, am I?"
"No," Midna said flatly, "but with any luck, you'll be the last."
"What happened to the others?"
Silence. Nothing but silence from the otherwise chatty imp.
Link sighed and asked again. "What happened to them, Midna?"
She stopped, and Link did too. Waiting. Listening. "I miss your dimmer circums," she said. "Yes, we did throw them down here."
"Without a trial? Without a humane punishment?"
"They were spirits, Link," she said firmly, but not unkindly, "like those people of yours back in Ordon. Just like you can't subdue a shadow, we couldn't so easily imprison light."
"You still haven't answered my first question," Link said, with just enough bitterness to test her, "about fair trials?"
Midna glared at him, lips pursed, as if she was readying herself to snark at him again. When she spoke, however, she had a forced calm. "You're forgetting who sent them here in the first place, who already put them on trial and found them guilty." The words bit him like the cold of the valley. "Every single prisoner dumped in our world was an insult to our way of life. It was a reminder from your world over and over that you thought this place was a hellscape, fit for only the vilest of criminals."
"So you didn't try to prove them wrong?"
"Prove to who? Predators? Serial killers? How would you feel if someone decided that Ordon would be the perfect dumping ground for the most dangerous people alive? Your royal family sentenced them to hell, so we gave them hell. We've been carrying out their dirty work for centuries, despite never agreeing to do it."
Why was he so wounded by this? Why was he so sympathetic –no, empathetic– for all those criminals who met a well-deserved end down here?
Was it because by now, word of Link's 'betrayal' had reached the ears of Fabian, the general, and possibly even Queen Zelda? Was it because, deep down, Link feared that when he returned, freeing the light spirits might not be enough to clear his name? He might be forced to give up his Triforce piece and sentenced to banishment here. If he returned in chains and a prisoner's tunic, would he also be thrown into this valley of eternal damnation without a second thought?
No, of course not. He was the chosen hero, the blue-eyed beast. As long as Link was noble, as long as he did the right thing, no one would take fault with him when all was said and done.
Somehow, Midna sensed his hurt, because she gave him an explanation that offered about as much warmth as a candle flame. "We're not that cold," she said. "There's a reason why the temple has a sol. It offers any banished criminal a chance to tap into its essence and become a being of our world. Then they would go through our judicial system like anyone else. Innocent until proven guilty. Since proof of their misdeeds doesn't follow them here, they would likely be found innocent."
"I guess that seems… fair." It seemed like that window of opportunity to welcome in a new method of existence that they barely understood was too narrow, but if the Hyrulean judicial system was as fair as everyone implied, then how was it possible for any criminal found here to be undeserving of their fate? Both Hyrule and Twilux were worlds where good was rewarded and evil was punished.
Although Midna did drive one thorn into that belief: it was unfair for the Hyrulean Royal Family to foist their worst criminals upon another realm.
There was something strange at the bottom of this valley. Down here, the darkness was as thick as honey, drowning out the shadows of the lost light dwellers, but not the weight of their stares or whispers. And yet, Link's torch was not the only source of light. Beneath the snow, there was a glowing, scraggly line of wide girth narrowing into the distance, like the root of an impossibly large tree.
He strayed closer. This was not a mystery he could abandon. For whatever reason, Midna stayed close by his side. Wary, as if this root might rip itself free and throttle them both.
When his toes barely touched the white glow, he crouched and scratched at it with the bottom of his torch.
Beneath the snow, cracks formed, chunks fell away, and the very snow beneath Link poured into this gaping crack of light. He dropped his torch, tried to scramble away, but he couldn't outrun the ground beneath his feet. Until he was weightless and surrounded by light.
Something elastic snared around his middle. In the crack of darkness above him, Midna threw her hands high with a cry, and he was launched upwards, arching through the darkness, until he landed face first in the snow, a full foot deep. With a groan, he rolled onto his back. Midna hovered above him, hands on her hips and scowling. What could Link do but awkwardly grin?
"At least I didn't panic this time?" he tried.
"Congratulations, Wolfie," she deadpanned.
They decided to set up camp for the 'night'. Well, Midna did. She chalked up his clumsy recklessness to fatigue. She was a contradiction like that. Demanding that he push himself beyond his limits at some points and then punish him with rest whenever he thought he had miles more left within him. Still, it was harder to fight her judgement than push through, so he relented.
With only a blanket to shield him from the cold, it was moments like these when he missed his boring little home in his boring little town the most. Not just his warm bed, but his fireplace and cauldron. He had nothing to cook a warm stew, so dinner was an assortment of cured meats and dried fruits courtesy of the monks.
Twilit food always had this unique tang to it. An edge of sweet and sour. Was it seasoning, or the natural flavour of the food? While he hadn't acquired a taste for it quite yet, he did prefer Twilit jerky over Hyrulean. There was far less salt involved.
He swallowed his third bite. "So, what's your home like?"
His shadow was silent. Unresponsive. Was Midna pretending to have abandoned him, again?
"Nothing like yours," she said at last.
Link chuckled. "Sounds like I'd enjoy it, then."
That caused her to rise. "You don't miss your village?"
"Yes and no," he said. "Truth is I'd been waiting for an excuse to leave for years. Being dubbed 'chosen hero' was just what I needed."
Maybe he spoke too soon. Her next question would be "Why'd you want to leave so badly?" The answer to that was… not something Midna had earned.
She settled upon the snow, propped up on her right palm, her legs folded to the left. "Why did you wait for an excuse then?"
That caught him off-guard. "What do you mean?"
"You could have left at any time," Midna said. "You have a horse, plenty of food, a decent savings stash by the looks of that basement chest. Not to mention that you are a well-trained swordfighter. There wasn't anything to stop you from packing your bags and riding out of town just like you did the 'day' you found out you were chosen."
Oh. Maybe this question did stray too close to the white plague after all. How could he answer this? "It's hard to leave a small town. We all have our roles to play. If I left, who would herd the goats? Who would help Rusl gather firewood? Who would entertain the kids whenever the parents needed a break?" It was a weak excuse. Link had witnessed first-hand how Ordon could reshuffle and delegate to keep things running once key people departed. Hell, the women and children were probably doing it right now. Picking up the tools and skills of their husbands, brothers, and fathers.
Midna didn't see through his answer, however. Instead, she hummed in satisfaction. "Relationships are tricky like that. We're all tangled in each other's threads, held stable by the tension. If someone cuts themselves free, then everyone falls."
Hmm. Odd thing to say. Link wouldn't describe his relationship with Rusl or Ilia or anyone from Ordon a tangle. Really, he knew deep down that they'd always want the best for him, even if their hearts would ache over his departure, and then they'd join hands and mend the hole Link would leave behind. But there'd always be a visible stitch. A scar.
But Midna? His relationship with her was a tangle. They'd bicker and bemoan each other, but if one of them ever abandoned or turned on the other, then both their realms were doomed.
Their relationship wasn't warm or friendly –perhaps it never would be, and he could live with that– but that didn't mean it had to be a tangled mess. Something intentionally woven would be more durable on this adventure. Something made in the spirit of practicality and partnership, so that they didn't exhaust each other any more than they had to.
And it would start with him.
"I never apologised for how I acted back in Hyrule," Link began. "Should've considered your side of things more. Should've known this light was a bane for you and the Twili. Your attachment to the shadows. My captors repelled by Ordona's light. The… cave incident."
Midna nibbled on her lip. She slowly drew her knees to her chest. Link almost shuffled closer in anticipation. An apology for an apology? Would she finally admit that she was wrong to pin the blame of the light invasion on Fabian?
"I'm sorry too," she said, "for cowering in your shadow, forcing you to stumble around on your own as a wolf, for being impatient with you for doing things when you had so little context." She smiled at him, though it was a little forced, not quite reaching her eye. "You did a good job at the monastery."
At least she was trying. Link forced a smile of his own. He never expected her to be as well-practised at faking contentment as he. "Thanks."
Silence settled upon them once more. They stared at the brilliant crack a hundred feet away, mesmerised by it. A wonder of nature that not even Link had imagined in all his years of daydreaming. It was nice being able to focus on that, rather than the other apology he was owed. The one about certain, unfounded accusations hurled at the institution of Hyrule.
Out of nowhere, Midna chuckled. Link turned to her, brow quirked. She side-eyed him with the softest of smirks.
"Monk Tuushu thinks we're going to rip each other's throats out in that temple," she said, "but I think we might do alright."
Yeah, everything was 'alright' between them. Totally fine. There was nothing more that she needed to say.
At the end of the fissure sat the maw of the temple. Here, it hardly looked like an intentionally carved and constructed place, but rather a twisted coincidence of erosion. Eyes hollowed out by water. Teeth of dripping stalactites. Like something you'd expect to find at the bottom of a watery abyss.
Encircled by the maw, like bait in a bear trap, was the golden wolf.
Link, haggard from a 'morning' battle against glowgors and dragging his feet, spurred faster. Call him desperate, maybe. He was too eager for a progress report on his 'heroism', and any possible techniques that would make fighting those glowgors any easier.
Just before Link reached pouncing distance, he paused, and turned to his shadow. "Remember that golden wolf I keep telling you about?"
"Oh?" his shadow asked.
Link gave her a cheeky wave and stepped forward. The wolf took the invitation to pounce.
With a grunt, Link pushed himself from the misty surface, got to his feet, and began his warm-up: rolling his shoulders and stretching his arms. Would've been nice if this mysterious realm had a toasty warmth to it, but at least he wasn't feeling the cold anymore (or any temperature, really).
The shade stood across from Link, a slight tilt in his helmet. "You seemed excited to see me." There was a hint of amusement in his tone, though the skeletal face didn't show it.
"It's an escape from that frigid valley," Link said. He took a deep breath of air. A breath that didn't sting his nostrils for the first time in 'days'.
"You have a little more of the look of a hero in you than you did before," the shade said. Link's heart sang at the compliment. "Do you feel ready to earn my next skill?"
Link nodded, but first, the shade posed him a test. Prove mastery of the ending blow. It took a few tries for Link to succeed in knocking his mentor on his back and staking him through the 'heart'. Link had only executed the technique once in the physical realm. It was on Faron. After being transformed into a wolf, he hadn't the opportunity to practice.
After a successful strike from Link, shade climbed to his feet and nodded approvingly. "It appears you are capable of performing my lost art, but more practice is needed."
Link grunted in response.
"Very well, my second skill is the shield attack," the shade said. "Let it be hewn into your mind.
"No matter how well-tempered a blade is, if a foe is clad in armour, the sword will do it no harm. When facing such a foe, you must thrust your shield against the defences of your enemy, causing the fiend to recoil." The shade demonstrated, taking a rock-solid stance and shoving his brass shield forward with a powerful grunt.
Link glanced at the wooden shield on his right arm, and the dented Ordonian sword in his left, then back at the shade. "With all due respect, why do I need to learn this? Your skill won't hold up against the glowgors –er, Eldin's Goron apparitions– and I already have a hammer to smash them or any other armoured foe to bits."
For a moment, the shade was silent, as if Link had stumped him (good, because Link was still a pinch salty about their first encounter), then he made a single chuckle and relaxed his fighting stance, letting his sword and shield hang at his sides. "What would happen if you were fighting a dinolfos?"
Huh? No one had seen one of those brawny, sapient reptile creatures for a few centuries, at least. Why bring it up now?
"They're fast on their feet," the shade paced closer, "and have plate armour on all but their chest, which they protect with their shield and axe."
"I'd… take a swing with a hammer?" The sword and shield on Link's arms vanished into smoke, replaced by a replica of the Twilit hammer in his grip. He grinned and looked up at– the shade was gone! What stood before Link was a dinolfos, just as the shade had described.
The dinolfos bashed axe against shield and hopped on the spot which would've winded any human after a few minutes. From its gurgling mouth, the shade's voice echoed. "Alright then, take a swing."
For a second, two seconds, several, Link waited for his foe to do something. Lizalfos and dinolfos were known for their aggressive approach, but there was no sign that the creature intended to strike.
Link was about to learn a rather embarrassing lesson, wasn't he?
Slowly, he reeled back the hammer, but still, the dinolfos did not break his stance. Link swung.
The dinolfos spun low. Something bit into Link's shins. The momentum of the hammer lurched Link to the right, leaving him sprawled on his side. Link looked up at his opponent, and the dinolfos flashed the metal spikes on its tail.
Link scowled as he got to his feet. Fine. Lesson learned. A hammer, no matter how cool or awesome it was against glowgors, clearly couldn't conquer every armoured foe. The smoke whisked his hammer into sword and shield once again, and it restored the shade to his former self.
"These skills I teach may not serve you 'today', but they could save your 'tomorrow'," the shade began. "You will face enemies far more cunning than the shadowbeasts, monkeys, and glowgors you've faced thus far. They will be well-practised in the art of the sword, able to cut you –in your current power– down in one or two strikes. You must persist on the lonely path of the sword to obtain true courage and earn the strength to conquer the great evils of the world."
Link scowled and took his stance, shield raised. The shade nodded approvingly. "Good. Now, I'm going to swing at your shield. Your job is to time the right moment to ricochet my blade and strike without hesitation."
It took several tries to get it right, and dozen more to make 'getting it right' consistent. Most of the time, Link would push too late, and be unable to repel the pressure of the blade. Other times, he was too early, and thus the strike would smack him back a step. The window was only a few inches and half-a-second wide, but the successful execution of the technique would have the shade's stance tottering, open to the bite of Link's blade.
Next, Link was tested via duel. After all, what good was learning the technique through drills and training exercises if the student couldn't execute it in the heat of battle?
"You have learned so much," the shade said. "I am sure you can see the moment when you can do a shield attack."
After 'winning' three consecutive duels with the shield attack (the shade was obviously going easy on him), Link thought it would finally be over, but nope! The shade had one more exercise. "The shield attack I just taught you can also be used to repel an enemy's projectile attacks," he said. "Arrows or magic. Even pellets." A way to repel projectiles back at the enemy? Now that was exactly the kind of secret, amazing, lost-to-time technique Link was after.
The shade raised his blade skyward and charged a golden orb of crackling energy at its tip. He flung it at Link. It rang loud as it approached, as if it would vaporise Link and his shield. He made the mistake of dodging, but a second projectile was already on its way, and he dodged that too, but on the third, he raised his shield and thrust at just the right moment. The orb hurtled back and hit the shade square in the chest. His grunt echoed.
"Perfect!" the shade called. "When your enemies assail you with projectiles, this is how you will defeat them with ease." With a spinning flourish, he sheathed his sword. "Done. You have learned the second of my hidden skills, the shield attack, but I have five more secrets to teach you… in time."
He paced towards Link, stopping when Link had to tilt his head back just to see his mentor's face. "Now, before return you to the mortal realm…" He clapped a hand on Link's shoulder and shoved him down. "Sit."
Link didn't bother straightening his buckled knees, instead sinking into crossed legs as the shade did the same.
"I met you before a temple of twisted temptation," the shade said. "Sitting outside with my canine ears alone was enough to hear those whispers."
"Is that why you pounced me?" Link joked. "To rip my throat out?"
"They cannot addle the mind of one who has already departed for the sacred realm. I can, however, judge the severity of those whispers."
Link slumped his shoulders. Of course he wasn't gonna get out of this training session without some lecture. "You think I can't resist it?"
"You can, because the Triforce of Courage lends you resilience. It will bolster your efforts to resist, but it will still be difficult, and you are still not above corruption. Your companion, however, has no such blessings. She is at the mercy of her will and hers alone."
Link leaned back on his palms with a groan. "Good luck convincing her to sit this one out."
"I never meant to suggest that," the shade said. "A true hero is not one who is courageous or pure, nor one blessed with exalted tunics or sacred markings. It is the one who wins against their worst impulses, day after day. This experience, though dangerous, may become a hallowed one for you both. You'll see her soul and yours stripped down to their blackest parts, and if you see her overcome that part of herself at all, even if her means are less orthodox than yours, then by Hylia's grace, you should consider her inner heroism as equal to yours."
Midna, a hero. A hero who berated him one moment and rescued him the next. A hero who used good deeds as currency for favours. A hero who relentlessly advocated for her people yet refused to have anything to do with them whenever possible. She was a confusing mess of contradictions, which meant that she would never fit neatly into the label of 'hero'.
At least this journey into the belly of the beast might finally reveal the truest, rawest extent of Midna's nature. Which one reigned supreme? Midna the schemer, or Midna the saviour?
"The path to becoming the true hero is a long one," the shade continued, "but once you have mastered your vices and virtues, you shall be worthy of walking it."
Yes, Link would prove he was worthy of his title, his tunic, his Triforce. He had to if he wanted to wash the mud off his name back in Hyrule, and the mistakes staining his soul.
When he accepted the shade's lesson with a curt nod, accepted the responsibility of mulling it over in the mortal realm, the mists began to close in. This was his departure, but the shade's words echoed before Link faded away.
"I still have five more hidden skills left to teach you," he said. "Do not forgo your discipline with the blade nor the mind before we meet again."
A/N: So based on the shade's cryptic words about Midna and the whisperings of the Temple of the Damned, any predictions on what might go down next chapter?
