Where another overdose is discovered, and Link finally gets some answers, though they might not be the ones he wants to hear.

Sorry that I didn't post last month! I was busy last month and ran into a bit of standstill with this chapter. I will still be attempting a monthly update regardless though!

Please note, this story will not be focusing on sex scenes. The scene that mentions it in this chapter is used to introduce the complicated relationship between the two characters. Additionally, the song recommendation (as I said I likely wouldn't be doing that anymore) is mentioned for the first two scenes to express specific thoughts and feelings with a character. Oh, right aaaaaand, this chapter has not been looked over by my lovely beta reader (Nothin'Fancy). Please excuse any blunders in writing!


SEVEN - PROPHECY

Song recommendation: Hurts Like Hell by OurVinyl


An ocean of moonless night consumed her. Cosmical waves ripped precious air from her lungs, and the scalding sand from the shadows sought solace underneath her skin. Zelda struggled against it, against the current and the unnamed agony. Yet the abyss that buried her senses was far too great and far too strong. Its hold became tangible shackles around her wrists and ankles, and with each flail of her arms the shackles grew heavier and heavier.

The Hero…

The voice rode along the waves of pain like freezing water vapor on the wind. It was drenched with lifelessness, devoid of sound yet louder than the silence that had encroached her.

The Prophecy… Legacy.. Omen.. the Hero.

It spoke the words over and over again until they were burned upon her skull.

The day of life and death. The key. The Prophe-legac-death.

It drifted in and out of the abyss, words gradually colliding and tripping on themselves until it became a wretched symphony of static. The words no longer made sense, the syllables dancing into the noise while she continued to struggle against the chains. It was only as the chains pulled her backward that she suddenly realized that this was a dream formed by premonitions. She recognized this, but the noise pressed against her, the waves pulled her under, and the chains bit into her wrists.

And then as a scream burned its way through her throat as the noise gathered higher and higher, she was pushed into dead air. The lack of turmoil that had enveloped her just moments ago left her feeling lost, stranded, and it forced her to her knees as noiselessness seeped in with the cold. It pricked her senses, and made her realize that dream or not, this agony was real. No, this suffering was real.

"Zel, it's okay."

A distant voice broke the brief quiet, and it ran along her spine in the form of tremors as her sky eyes were anchored to the darkness before her.

"I'll always come back."

The sea of black that had stretched far and wide began to curl inward at the new voice. Its words broke the vile abyss and brought forth tendrils of light, like small sun rays peeking through a forest canopy.

As the rays brushed over her, the scream that had threatened to spill from her lips melted into a sob, and it fell from her lips yet it made no sound. Unlike the voices from before, this one was familiar, and it was much more abscessed than any obnoxious voice that held divine weight. The sound of his smooth baritone, the way it reminded her of leaves dancing in the autumn winds, pulled at her heart strings that had snapped long ago.

No matter what, I'm still your Link.

Somewhere among the black and the beams of light, Zelda saw the brief shift of movement. A figure, no, a silhouette that would always be ingrained in her memory. It drove her to stand, but her body was too wracked in pain and heavy from the pull of the chains. She crawled. Desperation drew her forward, her sobs drowning in quiescence.

I'm still your Hero.

No. No. No. No. Not again. Don't, please!

And no matter what happens, I'll always protect you.

Her hands slipped on nothing, and she fell into the dark where the light did not touch.

I love you, Zelda.

Always.


Zelda snapped upright in a flurry of sweat and tears. Her fingers latched onto the blankets that surrounded her, onto the arm that reached for her, and she wrenched out the despair that had burrowed itself in her heart. The dream's voice still fresh in her mind, as if it had been spoken right before her.

"Zelda, it's all right." A voice grated along her sorrow. It sounded much deeper and much darker than the voice that seemed to haunt her dreams. Her grip tightened on the arm, the speaker's hand resting firmly on her shoulder so as to help ground her.

Her companion repeated the phrase, assuring her, and gradually her cries softened. With a shaking breath, she brought her other hand along to seek out the speaker's other arm. She treated those large arms like a lifeline. Yet nothing was as grounding as those pools of molten amber that looked down at her.

His eyes shone with both understanding and impatience, a look she was begrudgingly accustomed to in these situations. This hadn't been the first time she'd woken up, woken them both, from a vision that had turned into a nightmare. A nightmare of which always, without fail, ended with his words. Her companion had said before that it was likely due to their curse, how their powers were no longer effective or useful as they had been. Why her premonitions started out strong, then quickly became a mess of emotions, words, thoughts, and predictions.

"Don't tell me that you'd summoned me here before because of one of your dreams." His voice led her to the here and now, and when her gaze met his she relented her grasp on him. "You always have the same dream that begins and ends the same no matter the state of this rotten world."

"Don't tell me what I am aware of, Ganon." Zelda frowned as she promptly pulled the covers closer to her end so as to hide her naked torso from the cold air. "I summoned you then because I had a premonition of sorts outside of these-these nightmares." Her scowl was short-lived as she down cast her gaze. She only brushed her eyes over the valleys and dips that carved along his chest before seeking refuge along the canyons formed on the heavy blankets. "And I thought it fair to involve you."

"Though it warms my heart," he said, earning a scoff from her, "to think that you thought of me in that regard, don't bother involving me in your faulty visions, princess. I've already told you time and time again that the Hero is long gone. They will never allow him to reincarnate, and we will forever be trapped and left to rot in this world."

His words were like heavy coals in her stomach. Though their conversation was lukewarm, unlike the day she'd called him to her library, she still felt the hesitance, the irritation, and the denial. Yes, they were cursed. Yes, the Hero had never returned. "But I-"

"Zelda, it's been centuries. I have grown tired of this drivel. I thought we made an agreement to not speak of the Hero or anything involving that time while in bed." The coals felt hot and they burned her from the inside out.

Oh, if only her Hero could see them now. He'd likely keel over from disbelief or curse her name. Yet here she was sharing a bed with her enemy who had infiltrated her council. Sharing her warmth with the Calamity that had wreaked havoc and caused so much bloodshed for so many years. He'd find me utterly repulsive. Yet out of everyone in this world, only Ganon knew of her predicament. Out of everyone, only he shared her pain and her memories. Yes, he was a vile man, and she was sure he'd always be just that but loneliness was more than just the bitter cold in winter.

Birds of a feather flock together.

"I loved and-I loved and I… lost him." Her words were shattered glass. "And this-it hurts like hell. I can't stand it." Her companion lacked sympathy, she knew this well, but the words had to come out or the fire within her would consume her.

"He's a link to the past that has been utterly and irrevocably forgotten." He spoke coolly despite the annoyance that her words likely brought, "dead, and dead he shall remain."

She clenched her jaw until they creaked under the pressure, and then pulled away from the comfort and warmth of both the covers and her companion. She'd almost rid herself of the mess of covers all together until Ganon's left hand wrapped around her left wrist. It reminded her of the shackles in her dream, and she unintentionally shuddered.

Whether he saw her ghost of a tremble or not, Ganon pulled her back onto the bed and toward him. Her legs tripped over the mattress's lip, and down she fell until her back met the stone wall of his chest. His arms snaked over her shoulders and around her chest in the form of a hug. Yet to her, in that moment, it felt like frigid chains digging into her breasts. His embrace locked her in place, and with the faintest of sighs he set his chin atop one of his arms.

"It's just you and I, princess." She bit her bottom lip at his words, the usual wave of hate that she would've felt for them having calmed long ago. "You and I." Ganon's voice fell into a whisper that seemed to drag on forever.

They remained locked in embrace for what felt like hours before she felt one of Ganon's hands seek out her hair. His fingers ghosted through the golden locks until they were tangled amidst the strands. Then without preamble he pulled, and her head was forced to lean back onto his shoulder. His hold forced her to remain locked in place and so her cobalt irises snapped to the side in search of his own. When she spied his ember eyes, a smirk fizzled across his jaw. His ember eyes pulled into slits, his red brows furrowed.

"I must admit that you roused me from a rather fruitful sleep." She did not miss the deep lilt in his voice or how that smile of his turned edgier. The lips thinned as he slightly turned her head to the side so that they were now eye to eye. "I am unsure if I will be able to fall asleep at this rate."

She'd once been appalled at his bedroom tactics. The way he spoke, the way he insinuated and instigated, had at one point disgusted her, but now she welcomed it as a distraction. Nothing more, nothing less.

"Oh, what a shame." Zelda replied, struggling to fight off the despair that set her heart into a painful cadence. Her gaze narrowed as she traced his smile, and as he leaned closer to her face, she mimicked his smirk. "Shall I help you?"

The Calamity moved then with the speed of lightning, and she found herself on her stomach with his body draped across her back. His arms had snaked themselves to her front, one hand forcing her to arch against him as the other sought out a way to take her out on that offer.


Thursdays at the Faron City Police Department were oftentimes slow and uneventful, and at the start of Link's shift, it had been just that. That is, until Groose from the General Crimes Unit had received a missing person's report. It was quickly followed up with a call about that missing person having been found dead in Faron Park. Normally, the drug unit wouldn't have been dispatched, but when the Faron police arrived on scene, they noticed the decayed appearance of the body.

It was found partially sitting up on a park bench, its back arched and head resting on the bench's armrest. Underneath it and along cherry colored wood of the bench was a partial sea of dried blood. Blood that glistened underneath the gaze of the bright lamps that surrounded the scene like silent spectators. Fluorescent lights that crawled along the body's papery skin and had begun to consume the shadows that stretched across the park. It and the accompaniment of camera flashes dragged the skin's color into a stony white, giving off the look of winter, and highlighted the saturation of decay. Each flash gave more life to the black ooze that had carved permanent trails along the skin of death.

From the black ichor, blisters and peeled flesh took their fill along the expired meat. Giving off the appearance of skin turned inside out. Unlike Runa Lara's body, its eyes were closed and obscured by heavy shadows that the lights and camera flashes could not hope to touch. Shadows that cut into the sockets, making the corpse appear eyeless. Yet not a single strand of darkness could hope to cover the mouth. A thin, black line that split across the lifeless face, it was closed shut. Remnants of a waterfall having colored it as well as the chin in lines of black.

Like with Runa Lara's body, the stench wreaked havoc in the air. It smelled much worse than stagnant water and aged meat, a sign that it had devolved well into its decomposition. Regardless of its state, the smell bombarded Link's senses, and left him fighting the urge to vomit what little he'd eaten.

"Revali Rito was last seen this past Tuesday," the coroner droned, "but by the look of this decomp, that's got to be near impossible. Sure, decomp can happen within seventy-two hours, but this level of breakdown with the cool temperatures..." Her gaze strayed away from the corpse and onto the small notepad in Link's hand. He'd been flipping it open and closed absently, having only scribbled a few notes upon his arrival.

"CCTVs?" It was Groose who'd posed the question, his hands tucked deep into his coat pockets as the bitter autumn wind brushed up beside them.

"There's a gas station nearby that has a few cameras, but I doubt they caught anything useful." The coroner supplied grimly.

Link stifled a groan at that piece of Intel. Of course, nothing was ever that easy. His partner seemed to agree as he gave a subtle shake of his head before drawing away from their small group. He'd only paused once by Link to grab his shoulder and pull him away. They'd only taken a few steps from Groose and the City coroner before Pipit relented Link's shoulder and sought refuge against the alley wall.

Once his shoulders were pressed against the brick of an old pawn shop, Pipit jerked his head in the direction of Rito's body. "A body that has progressed decomposition with that nasty black goop is left in an alleyway that has absolutely no CCTV coverage."

Link nodded and flipped his notepad open once more, but his eyes were trained on the scene photographers as they set down evidentiary tags along the strip of alley. "The only difference is that there appear to be no immediate signs of struggle or… he glanced at the paper he'd opened to, "well, Runa Lara appeared to have scratched herself. Remember what her hands looked like?"

"I remember they were all janked up, yeah." His partner cringed, "but you're right, there's really no apparent damage to the body itself. His limbs aren't that crazy looking either. She looked like she'd been wrung through one of those awful Exorcist movies. That ooze has got to be the same black stuff on Lara. If that's the case then why didn't our guy freak out on it like she seemed to have done?"

"I allegedly saw signs of a needle. There weren't any on Runa Lara." Link replied. He watched one of Pipit's brows raise. "Yes, it's possible he injected it into himself."

"Maybe those are old marks. Do we know if he's a user?"

"No, I'm hoping his boss can tell us. They said they'd come in for an interview [questioning/interrogation] tomorrow. Hopefully they can provide us some answers because right now this looks like another simple OD."

"Fishy OD, but yeah. Can't go much without evidence and the evidence that we do have is that a drug was involved."

They both shared a sigh then, eyes casting to the grassy ground beneath them. It was then, underneath the pollution of death and onslaught of voice and camera clicks that Link's phone came to life. The ringtone was muffled, but as soon as it filled the space between Pipit and him, he recognized it. He gave a slight nod to his partner who grinned, and briskly walked along the short slip of path and into the street that teemed with blue and red lights, yellow tape, and Faron's nosy onlookers.

By the third ring he had his cellphone out. "Hey, Mal." Just saying her name brought him a sense of comfort that he hadn't realized he'd been missing. Her resounding chuckle even brought ease into his shoulders as he found his cruiser and leaned against it. "Sorry I left in a hurry. They found another body like Lara's, and since it might involve drugs, I got called to help out."

She made a sound of dismay before replying, "Yeah, I heard a few minutes ago from Renado. I take it there's a black substance on that body too?"

Link's gaze wandered to the yellow tape that had snaked around the entrance of the park; watched it rustle in the breeze as the night owls of Faron lingered alongside it like a shiver of sharks. Even underneath the assaulting lights from the responding vehicles, he could catch glimpses of cell phones and cameras, and at the sight of them he couldn't help but shake his head. Without a doubt, if the tape ever did fall away, they'd rush to the crime scene without a care, hungry for drama and the minute fame of being the first to share the story of a missing Revali Rito found dead.

"Mm-hm, looks to be the same type of stuff, but… well…" his voice fell an octave, and he relayed his and Pipit's discoveries.

She only spoke up once he'd mentioned the signs of a needle, "Sounds like a simple OD then."

He bit back a sigh. She was right, after all he and Pipit had come to the very same conclusion. Yet the sudden change of the body was something that he found concerning. Unlike Lara, Rito's body was in decent condition despite both of them having drastic levels of decay. Another thing that bothered him, how could a drug be that quick in initiating decomp? Hell, how could a drug make someone bleed both red and black liquids?

It doesn't make sense. This can't be a simple overdose.

Yet the evidence all pointed to just that, drug usage having finally reached its limit.

"Link, can I suggest something? Why not request Lon Lon to look at the substance since they are initially focused on pharmaceuticals? They're credible and have likely helped law enforcement from other prefectures before. Both my hospital and Renado are good at what they do, but Lon Lon may have better findings."

Lon Lon Industries… Link hummed in reply, his eyes drifting back to the onlookers that swam alongside the crime scene tape. Underneath the glow of the street lamps and the harsh pulse of the emergency responding lights, his eyes naturally grazed over them and focused on no one in particular, but then as Malon began to ask what was on the menu for tonight, his eyes locked onto a familiar face.

Like before, when he'd met the man in Valoo's lobby, he felt a chilling sense of deja vu. A misplaced feeling of nostalgia that ate away at his senses until it was just him and the pale-faced man. A man that had unnaturally dark eyes and a pearly white smile that had Link's blood run cold. He had to tear his eyes away, and when he finally did, reality clicked back into place. Yet that icy feeling clung to him, a feeling that he gradually started to realize was fear if it were not for the trembling in his hands. A fear that felt so foreign to him, as if the feeling was not truly his.

Skychild… Those vicious eyes of coal seemed to lock onto him, and that smile grew into a Cheshire-like grin. You wouldn't dare forget about me, would you, Skychild?

"Link…" His head snapped up, Malon's voice pulling him back to some semblance of solid ground. "Are you there?"

He looked again despite the fear that gnawed its way inside of him, but the man with the black eyes, white hair, and wintry smile was nowhere amidst the scene's nosy onlookers. Had he imagined that? Had that been like the hallucination with the snake?

"Link?"

He had already accepted the idea that he'd surely lost it after his pen turned into a sword of all things. It had even been proven when Malon had taken his sword and written out the week's grocery list, the blade having suddenly become a pen as soon as she'd touched it. But now, "Link!"

The third call of his name from her lips anchored him yet again. His eyes were pulled away from the onlookers, attention wavering between his dwindling sanity and the body. "Yes, sorry, Lon Lon Industries you said? We may end up consulting them. It will depend on the results from a lab request though as I'm sure the chief will want to ensure that it is the same substance."

Her response was akin to static in his ears as yet another thought cemented in his mind. "Mal," his voice fell with uncertainty. Unease drawing a long pause before him. "Have you ever heard of the Triune mythology?"

"That's out of the blue, but sort of. I remember hearing about it in my mythology studies class, I think? If I'm remembering right, not much is known except that they were all about prophecies that focused on three chosen warriors that represented the three goddesses."

Three chosen warriors… three goddesses… "Anything else? Why three?"

"No, I don't think so, and maybe it's like the power of three? I don't know. Why the interest though? Was it mentioned or involved in the crime scene, or was the victim a believer?"

"Just curious. One of the investigators had mentioned it this morning, and they knew about as much as you do from the sound of it. Anyways, I'll be home later than usual so don't stay up for me, get some rest. I'll talk to you soon."

As soon as he'd hung up, the sea of onlookers had shifted and pulled his attention toward them. Underneath the haze of lights, they parted in the wake of a newcomer. They stood a head taller than the rest, the blue lights adding an inhuman glow to their golden skin while the red glow of the emergency lights were eaten away by the long tresses that fell down their shoulders. Even from a distance, Link could see the new onlooker's wide eyes as they settled in front of the yellow tape and drank in the cluster of cruisers.

"That's Lanayru Spotlight's head honcho, Nabooru Rise." He nearly jumped from Pipit's sudden appearance. The redhead had taken a post beside him, but Link hadn't the slightest idea how long he'd been there. "Groose had contacted her a bit ago, didn't think she'd show up right away." His partner's eyes were drawn to the tall journalist as he spoke, "Should we go ask her a few questions since she's here?"

An impromptu interview wasn't always ideal in an open and uncontrolled environment. Especially since there was no method of digital recording that could later be used for primary evidence. Not that Link personally believed this Rise person was to blame for her subordinate's death. That and his notepad would be more than effective for evidentiary purposes, for now. Nevertheless, her statement would probably be too swayed by the scene before her.

Pipit didn't wait for his reply. His partner drew away and closed in on the sea of sharks, only pausing once to catch sight of Link pulling away from their cruiser. When they closed in on the citizens that abided by the tape, their incessant noise overcame the static of the crime scene. Murmurs, notifications chimes, and sympathetic tears drowned out the camera clicks, lamp buzzes, and droning vehicles in an instant. Especially when the crime scene's audience noticed the two investigators nearing them.

Like predators to prey, their noise took on a different tune,

"What happen-"

"I knew this was a bad part of town. I've been telling He-"

"Did Giovanni finally kick the buck-"

"Don't tell me that's Jerry, Jerry he… he said he was low-"

"Bet it was a homeless no-"

"Hey cop, what the hell-"

It was easier to ignore them. Much easier than it ever was for Link to ignore the stench of death.

Nabooru Rise's eyes did not move from the cluster of cruisers that partially blocked the bench from view. Even as Pipit stopped before her. Either she was too tall and he too short to notice him, or she was too caught up in the truth that her coworker had passed. Link figured it was the latter judging by the worrying of her lips and the way she clenched and unclenched her hands.

"Miss Rise," Pipit's voice barely reached above the noise around them, but her large, sandy eyes snapped to him nonetheless. The tension continued to press against her, fingers curled into tight fists, and with a lick to her lips, she replied, "Yes?"

His partner went through a handful of questions, all of which faded into the peppering of questions from the citizens that lingered around Nabooru. Pipit seemed to be able to hear her, but for Link, he couldn't even hear the elderly man with the flowing beard demanding his name. No, all he could think was how familiar she looked.

It was nostalgic, that molten gaze framed by brows that gave away the emotion that her lips and eyes refused to show. Her voice too, it beckoned memories that didn't exist to the forefront of his mind. Memories of which he felt, but could not see. There was pain, a deep sorrowful pit that held no end. There was also warmth, a blossoming heat that was close to catching his skin alight with flame.

For a moment, he wasn't sure why or what those feelings were, but as he watched her lips move soundlessly, he knew.

Loss and friendship.

It was so unlike the feeling he'd had upon seeing the man with the pale face, Ghirahim, at the hospital. Despite that, it was yet another thing that made no sense. He shouldn't be feeling this. She, like the man, didn't look familiar to him in the slightest. In fact, he'd never seen her until now.

"Have we met before?"

He spoke up suddenly, frustration coloring his tone as it reached above the noise. First the misplaced familiarity, the sense of deja vu, and then a pen that turned into a sword. Yet another thing to add to his list of crazy. Yet another thing that didn't make sense.

She turned to him, her glacier sharp chin turning up as she assessed him. "I'm sorry, but I've never seen you kid."

Right, of course not.


It was nearing four in the morning when Malon heard the front door creak open followed by sluggish footsteps. As usual, she'd tried her best to stay up late into the night to wait for him. An attempt that had quickly ended into her crawling into bed and falling asleep. She'd juggled the idea of getting up, already knowing how any bit of conversation with him would go after such a long shift. The sound of the bedroom door creaking open roused her, nullified her idea. With one more glance to the clock atop the nightstand, she sat up from the warmth of the bed, and searched for him against the dark of the room.

She caught him peeling off his sweater by the dresser, his silhouette accented by the red haze from the clock. He stumbled over the lip of his jeans before he sought out the warmth of their bed. Only then as he took to his side did his eyes meet hers. The clock's face reflected the time in those blue depths.

"Did I wake you?" His voice brushed over her as he eased into the bed. The mattress groaned underneath the added weight, and as soon as he lifted the covers, Malon felt a chill dash along the warmth from the blankets.

His gaze ran over her, catching her small fit of trembles. Even underneath the guise of darkness she saw a brief smile slip across his face, and within seconds he had his arms wrapped around her, smothering her in his own warmth. "Sorry, paperwork and waiting on the ambulance took a little longer than I would like to admit."

She nuzzled into him, her head hiding underneath his chin as she felt him pull up the covers with a freehand. Instantly, the cold was chased away.

"When do you have to go back in?" Her voice was muffled against his skin.

She felt his sigh brush the top of her head as he sullenly replied, "Four hours. We had an impromptu interview with the deceased's boss a few hours ago, and are scheduling an official one early this morning." She drew back at this news, sensing both his fatigue and frustration.

With hands on either side of his shoulders, she peered up at him, a question riding on her tongue. Yet, as always, his eyes were more telling than his words would ever be. He didn't want to talk any further about work or the body in the park. As if to prove her point, he pulled away from her and rested against his pillow, but she followed him. Despite his clear desire to end any further conversation, she readied another question, but as soon as his head hit the pillow, he was out like a light.

"Must be nice to fall asleep at the blink of an eye," she mused aloud. It didn't surprise her though considering his increasing bouts of insomnia. That and the nightmares had seemed to grow more frequent and more intense. Well, he'd never quite admitted he'd slept less and less, and he'd definitely not expressed the increasing terror in his nightmares. She'd discovered that on her own countless times after having been woken up by him tossing and turning or, on occasion, screaming.

Without a doubt, it was concerning, but she knew better than to bring it to their attention. Even if it was obvious, he would most definitely shrug it off or deny it. A stubborn trait of his.

It didn't change anything though as he'd always been plagued with spells of insomnia accompanied by the occasional nightmare. Yet it was never quite as bad as it was now. What was triggering it? Work? She had noticed a significant change in his demeanor ever since he'd acquired a job in law enforcement. It didn't make sense though as it wasn't every day that he'd deal with a dead body or case.

The war on drugs though… that's never ending. Maybe that-no. She shook her head. Sure, that type of war seemed never-ending, but it definitely wasn't the cause for Link's distress.

Malone huffed, frustration keeping the remaining sleep at bay as she tugged at any possible answers. Answers of which were few and far between. The painstaking battle, despite it not possibly being Link's trigger, seemed the most plausible.

In fact, it was only as she finally rested her head against her own pillow that an alternative possibility. It came to her as soon as she heard it be muttered sleepily from Link's own lips.

"Triune?"

He'd slurred the word, and although a snore had gnawed away at the syllables, she'd heard him loud and clear. The Triune… he'd asked her about it out of the blue, hadn't he? Sure, he'd said it had been brought up and he was curious, but it had still all seemed strange. Why show sudden interest in a mythological religion while dealing with a strange overdose? He wasn't one to get distracted like that, to go chasing bunny trails. Especially during an ongoing investigation. So then, did it hold any significance?

Or am I just grasping at straws here?

She worried her lip for a moment before finally swiping her phone off the nightstand by the clock. Yet a quick search of the Triune religion turned up little to no results. It could only mean that yes, she was definitely grasping at straws.


A field of tall grass, yellowed from the cold season, stretched on before Link. The sky overhead an endless cloud of white as it blanketed the ground beneath him in a foot of snow. Snow that was soundless as he took a cautious step forward, the absent whispering crackles of ice making him wonder if this dream was one of silence.

"This is a dream… right?" He tested his voice, and it resounded loud and clear across the field. Each syllable prompted a puff of air that faded away into the falling snow. The fog from his own words drew him to latch onto another discovery, despite the thick veil of snow it was neither cold nor warm. Both that, accompanied by the droning silence that could only be interrupted by his words, made him wary.

It seemed even at exhaustion he could not hide away from these dreams. Though this one was new. Sure, he'd had plenty that involved a field, but this one did not stretch on endlessly. That and nothing disrupted the ground at his feet or the white snowflakes that twirled around him. Even as he closed his eyes only to reopen them again, the scenery remained.

The other striking difference that went against his normal dream state's routine was the large white castle that reached far into the heavens above. It stood before him with a shadow-less body, and its white facade nearly blended into the winter. It devoured the horizon, stone pillars, towers, and curved roofs stretching over the field before him. Yet as he dared a few steps forward, it seemed to be forever out of his reach.

"You are not meant for that life." Link stopped mid-step, his whole body shuddering at the hollow voice that curled around him from behind. Despite its sound, it reminded him of the stench of death. A voice that was as long as it was deep, eternal and devoid of both color and sound. Yet each syllable was accompanied by a second and then a third voice, but when he sharply turned on his heel to face the speaker, it was only a single person.

No, not a person, but an abomination. A skeletal body stood within arm's reach, its armor black and rusted underneath the gaze of time. Like in his incessant nightmares, its skull was carved from the shadows. A single eye socket resonated, glowed with the color of blood, while the second eye socket appeared as a bottomless pit. The sight of that single eye alone urged Link to draw a step back, and as he did a crackling whisper of his boot atop snow erupted between them.

"For you must know loss, betrayal, hunger, poverty, and you will get none of that within such immaculate walls." The jaws of the skull did not move as it spoke, and as Link took another step backward, it did not follow. "A true Hero must know pain and fear so that he may better wield his sword."

His dreams never did make sense to him, and this one was no different. Yet they all seemed to revolve around a "hero" and, since he'd been given the shape shifting pen, their sword. That or a supposed memory if he wanted to believe that gut wrenching sense of nostalgia that always rode alongside the fear that these dreams seemed to dredge up.

"Who are you?" Link demanded, but his voice shook with wariness. These dreams never ended well, and he was confident this one would end just as the rest, a nightmare that would burn itself into his memory.

"A shade, a remnant of time."

It… replied? He'd honestly expected it to lunge forward with its sword in-hand. That or have the scenery change and propel him into some form of horror. "Do you-do you have a name?"

It fell into a spell of silence, and the longer it stared at Link with that single red eye, the more Link fidgeted until he finally averted his gaze. Only then as his eyes focused on the snow at their feet did it reply again. "I bear a sullied name of the past."

Was it going to continue with these cryptic answers? "Okay… why am I here then? What is this?" He gestured around them, his gaze only going as far as to the skeleton's breastplate. It looked to have once been a dark bronze based off the trim, and the longer he stared, the more he saw the faded etchings of a winged bird splayed outward. The symbol itself looked familiar, but the familiarity could neither be placed nor named.

"Here in this realm, in this time, or here in a piece of memory from a time long gone?"

Link's jaw clenched. Again with the cryptic nonsense? "You keep referring to time, why? Is there supposed to be some great significance?"

"Why would I not? Time is the reason for our existence." The skeleton finally moved, raising its hand with the palm opened to the skies above. A series of cracks and groans from both bones and rusted armor enveloped the field for the breadth of a second before it continued. "Without time, we would not exist. If we do not exist then the world as we know it would perish. To think that even that has been taken away from you… you remember nothing, it seems."

"Remember what?"

"Everything. The prophecy that has been passed along our lineage, the power that has coursed through our very veins, and the blade that has remained at our side. You remember nothing, but perhaps it's to be expected. After all, our existence, our legacy, was removed from the flow of time. Ever since the blade fell from your hands, the Hero of Time has ceased to exist. And yet, after centuries… you've been reborn and you are here."

For once the skeleton's words didn't sound so obscure. Especially when he recalled the mythology book with the missing pages or the old woman he'd met before almost being run over. "What is this prophecy that you're talking about? And this power, does it have something to do with the Triune religion?"

Link was too caught up in the skeletal being before him to take note of the change in scenery around them. The snow at their feet had gradually melted until the ground beneath them was consumed by water. Water that had gradually begun to darken with black ichor. The castle at Link's back became saturated in white until it vanished, leaving behind a colorless void.

"The prophecy itself has many interpretations; however, they all have one thing in common. When Hyrule falls into ruin, a man garbed in green and bearing a courageous heart will appear with the sword of evil's bane. With the aid of the goddesses, he will bring balance and peace to the land." Its bony hand returned to its side with a series of groans from both aged joints and rusted armor. "It varies upon the ruin that befalls Hyrule, but it is all one and the same. For instance, some translations refer to when the Great Calamity is unleashed while others refer to a general rise of malevolence. As for 'Triune,' I know not of that word, but I can only presume that you are referring to the goddesses who have turned their backs on the land."

"The goddesses-" That same gut wrenching sense of nostalgia curdled in his stomach.

"Nayru of Wisdom, Farore of Courage, and Din of Power, yes."

The sound of sloshing water pulled Link out of his thoughts, his gaze drinking in the sudden absence of snow and the ice covered field. It urged him to take another step back as unease trickled along his senses. It was only as he heard the sound of water sloshing again did he realize that the undead creature before him was drawing closer to him, its heavy boots breaking the black waters at their feet in large ripples.

"Though this world remains precariously balanced, it cannot withstand the weight of time if you fall once again." The white abyss that had surrounded them was fading away into blackness. "The legacy of the Hero of Time has been reborn after all these centuries. Whether it be from the goddesses' bidding or for an oncoming ruin, I do not know. But child, you must pick up your blade once more before it is too late."

As darkness corroded his vision, and ate away the white abyss that surrounded them. A blackness that reflected along the water at their feet, leaving only the single red eye visible, he felt bony tendrils curl around his shoulder. The grip was heavy, aided by armor, and the fingers dug sharply into him. Yet Link did not flinch from the skeleton's grip. He did not even register its skeletal hand as he felt his shoulder grow numb from the pressure. No, he was too lost in drowning in that gaping hole of red. Struggling far too much against the hollow voice that had slithered its way inside his thoughts, silencing all other sound.

You must regain what you have lost, or you will soon perish.