Hyrule Castle Library
A hefty volume bound in red leather grabbed her interest from the shelf. Sliding it off, Lymira admired the detailed engravings on the front and the title: A Thorough Understanding of the Elements. Not exactly what she'd been looking for.
Lym flipped open the book, scrolling through detailed descriptions of each element and the personality traits associated with them.
Elene crinkled her nose. "I find elementology as useful a science as astrology when it comes to predicting people," she remarked. "Individuals are more complex than can be divined by six rigid elements."
"I have to agree," Lym said, arching a brow at the entry on the Fire element. It was a bit stereotypical. Surely not all those who possessed Fire were hotheaded, stubborn and passionate people. "There seems to be some favouritism with certain elements going on, too."
Elena nodded absently, engrossed in a book of her own. Together, the pair of them must have scoured the entire contents of Hyrule Castle's library, and Lymira still found almost nothing on the people of the Talus mountains and the Eight Clans. Had their history been so thoroughly forgotten?
It was disheartening to say the least, but she held more than her fair share of stubbornness. She wouldn't give up yet.
"I should check the library in Kakariko," Lymira said. "It's smaller, but maybe there are some volumes this place is missing."
"I imagine so. Kakariko was founded by the Sheikah, and they are known as 'the people of secrets'. It would not surprise me if that modest library contained hidden knowledge."
Lymira considered Elena's words. The mysterious Sheikah people, widely believed to be nearly extinct, had fascinated her even as a child. Their stories were spread far and wide. Rumours about them even more so. At the Hylian court, it was a topic of gossip as to whether Link, the future prince, had any Sheikah blood running in his veins. He was the typical-looking Hylian, but his brother, Dark, was decidedly not.
"Do Dark and Link have any Sheikah ancestry?" she asked Elena, out of curiosity. Maybe the brothers could offer her a clue of where to look for forgotten secrets.
"Dark and Link's father was probably either half-Sheikah or full Sheikah," Elena mused, scanning another shelf. "My father says Link is the exact image of a noblewoman he once knew, so it can't be her side."
"Is the Sheikah side why he has red eyes?" she asked, thinking of Impa, the only known remaining Sheikah, and her deep crimson irises.
"No, it's because of the curse."
Elena delivered the information so matter-of-factly, Lym almost dropped the book she held.
"The curse?"
"It's what people say," Elena continued. "And curses, I've read, often have permanent physical marks, such as a changed appearance."
Lym snapped her book shut. "What curse?" she demanded. "Who cursed him?"
"I'm not certain of who, or why." Elena frowned. "Or when, precisely. He told me it happened long ago, and that a sorcerer wielded dark magic against him, trying to turn him into a shadow being."
Lymira internally reeled. "A shadow being?" she repeated. "That's possible?"
"Theoretically, yes," the scholar mused, still in that appallingly calm tone. "But I imagine it would take astronomical amounts of power, not to mention extended torture in order to weaken the victim and…"
Lymira stopped listening. She could barely wrap her head around someone cursing a child, as Dark must have been if it happened years ago, and attempting to turn them into a soulless shadow creature.
She had witnessed the power of shadow beings before—their mindless, relentless hunger. They existed only to do their master's bidding. Even now, the memories of that night caused her to flinch.
"People say idiotic things about him." Elena rolled her eyes. "Clearly he still has a soul, though the entire concept of a soul, scientifically speaking—"
"Elena," Lym cut her off. "People at court talk about his curse? To his face?"
"People at court talk behind others' backs constantly," she sighed. "It's rather tiresome. When Dark still lived here, he didn't seem affected by it. Though now that he's back, the whispers have started again." Elena grabbed a couple of tomes from a higher shelf.
Lymira shoved the book she still held back on its shelf. "I can't believe it."
"Some use these stories about Dark as an excuse for why Link shouldn't become a part of the Royal Family," Elena told her. "It's all nonsense, but some purists still believe it. The Sheikah are still somewhat feared. And dark magic is an abomination." She shook her head, causing her dark hair to swing. "This is why I turn to science for my convictions."
Lymira snatched her boots off the floor where she'd earlier kicked them off, pulling them back on her feet. With a quick goodbye and thank you, she raced out of the library back to her room to grab her cloak. Minutes later, she'd tracked down Dagan and requested a warp back to Kakariko's gates.
Striding with purpose down the main street, she located the weathered green sign hanging outside the modest library building. Her hand was reaching for the door when she picked up the snatches of a conversation, coming from the shadows in the nearby alley.
Lymira halted at the word. Dragon. That's what the man had said.
Peering over her shoulder, she sidled along the building and hid out of sight.
"I'll be back well after nightfall," the man was murmuring to his companion. "The den is on the mountain's north face."
"It will be quite a climb," a second man agreed.
"I'll take the shortcut," the first man said. "I'll bring down whatever I can carry. We can return for the rest tomorrow morning."
The two exchanged goodbyes, and footsteps grew louder. Lymira whipped away from the wall, crossing the street so she could observe the man discreetly. Bearded, brown hair, thickly built; she catalogued his appearance and apparel. He wore a heavy coat and gloves, with a thick scarf around his neck to protect his face. On his back he carried a rucksack that jingled with the tell-tale sound of metal tools inside.
He intended to climb Death Mountain. Searching for a dragon's den. There was nothing concrete to suggest the man was a dragon poacher, but Lymira knew the type. Her instincts were screaming at her.
It was late in the day, but Lymira made her decision. As the dragon hunter veered from the alley and ascended a staircase to another street, Lymira followed.
Death Mountain Trail
Kakariko was blocks of red, brown and blue, fitted together like puzzle pieces in the valley. The ground was a moth-eaten quilt of half-melted snow patches from this distance.
Dark stretched, exhaling a cloud of icy air. The adrenaline from his hike kept his blood pumping, but the chill was starting to invade his fingers. He was far enough from the summit he knew there were still pockets hidden in the rock, natural vents where volcanic air escaped. Or he could trek back to Goron City.
Choosing the latter, he started the descent the way he'd come, taking care on the steeper trail. When he scanned the snow-covered rocks ahead, watching for any dangers, he noticed movement next to a boulder in a chasm below.
Dark crouched and crept to the edge so he could look down from above. A split in the mountain had created a dead-end canyon, just wide enough for two carriages side by side. In summer, the area would attract little interest, but in the winter, it was well cloaked. A man hid in the rocks, camouflaged with a pure white blanket. He shifted, watching something out of Dark's eyesight, and revealed the sharp edge of an axe clipped to his belt. In his hand he held a short, armour-piercing spear.
Dark pulled back from the edge. Dragon hunter. He was sure of it.
Standing, Dark navigated his way down the trail as quickly as he could, and over to the area he'd spotted the hunter. But the man had vanished. Dark scanned the boulders, knowing there must be a hidden cave entrance somewhere the hunter had tracked a dragon to.
His ears pricked, hearing someone approaching. Ducking behind the same rock that had concealed the hunter, Dark waited for whoever was coming into the canyon to show themselves. He was weaponless, so if it was another dragon hunter, he'd need to use magic. Hunters wouldn't hesitate to protect their loot. Dark willed his magic to ready, feeling a familiar shiver racing up his arms.
Pebbles clattered as someone climbed into the dead-end corner where Dark was. They scouted the area, supposedly looking for the hidden cave as well. They must have found it, for their footsteps began to recede.
Springing from his hiding spot, Dark realized it wasn't a cave entrance at all, but one of the natural air vents—a perfect spot for a hibernating dragon to crawl inside the belly of the volcano.
Following the tunnel, carved by passing dragons or naturally, he couldn't tell, Dark kept on the tail of the second hunter, no more than a vague shape in the darkness at this point.
The temperature rose steadily, burning his numbed hands. He shivered violently at the rapid temperature change and rubbed his hands together. Eventually, he had to light a flame in the palm of his hand to see properly. Up ahead, shouting voices carried back down the vent. Dark picked up his pace, thinking they had woken a sleeping dragon and were facing the consequences. He faltered, thinking the creature might choose flight over fight and come barreling down the passage towards him. If it did, he could warp, but it would be a close thing.
The voices grew louder as Dark approached. Orange light brightened the caverns ahead, revealing two silhouettes arguing. Beyond them was a magma pool, filling the huge cavern. Curled up on a slab of rock not ten feet from the bickering hunters was a full-grown dragon, her wings closed protectively over her head.
Dark looked from the deep blue scaled dragon to the snarking pair, and his jaw dropped in surprise.
The dragon hunter was recognizable from his camouflaging cloak. The other person in the cave was Lymira.
"How dare you!?" she was hissing in the hunter's face, a gleaming dagger pressed to the man's throat. "I would string you up by your balls if I suspected you had any!"
"She was dead when I got here!" the man protested with a grunt. "May as well strip her for the parts."
The rage in Lymira's eyes was incandescent. The blade edged closer to the man's jugular.
"Lymira," Dark said, his voice echoing loudly in the cave.
She spun around, singing him with sparks of fury in her gaze. "Dark?" she gaped, confused and surprised at his sudden appearance. "What the-?"
The hunter took advantage of her distraction and wrestled an arm around her throat, yanking her knife-wielding hand back.
"I don't know who the fuck you two are," he growled at Dark. "But I'll gut you both if you don't leave. Right. Now."
Lymira spat curses at him. With fluid movements, she lifted her knees to her chest, coiling her body into a tight ball. Her legs flashed out and downwards as she curled forward, dragging her unwitting attacker onto her back. Lymira's free hand snatched at the man's hair with a merciless grip, pulling him down with her and then over her shoulder. The man slammed into the ground with a wheeze.
Momentarily stunned, Dark stared at Lymira as she panted from the effort, gingerly touching her abused throat. When the man tried to move, Dark sprang into action. He pinned the man to the hard earth, using a bit of magic to ensure he stayed there.
"The…hell…" Lymira gasped, "Are…you doing?"
Dark shrugged. "I spotted him on the mountain and followed him. I thought you were another hunter."
"No." Lymira shook her head. "What are you doing on the mountain?"
"Hiking."
She looked at him incredulously. "You came to…save the dragon?"
Dark glanced at the dragon's form, still as stone. The hunter had spoken the truth—the dragon must have died recently. He stiffened, seeing a handful of what he'd first thought to be rocks gathered at the dragon's side. Dragon eggs.
Furious, he seized the hunter by the collar and yanked him up until they were nose to nose. "You were going to steal her eggs?" Dark growled. "Sell them?"
"D'you how many rupees fresh dragon eggs go for?" the man wheezed. "Coulda made a fortune."
Dark dropped the man in disgust.
"Bastard," Lymira muttered, kicking the captive hunter in the side.
"You followed him?" Dark asked her. "From where?"
Lymira glanced at him. "Kakariko. I heard him and his buddies talking about a dragon sighting on Death Mountain and how they were going to track her down." Her lips curled. "I thought dragon hunting was illegal in Hyrule?"
"It is." Dark walked over to the clutch of eggs and knelt, running a hand carefully over the smooth surface of each one. "They're all gone," he reported, frowning. His fingers glided over the last egg, tucked close to its mother's chest. "Wait."
Faint warmth radiated from the shell. A tiny life, struggling to hold on.
"This one might make it," he told Lymira, who'd come to stoop beside him. At his proclamation, her face lit up with hope.
"Really? Let me grab something to keep it warm."
With a less than gentle tug, she snatched the hunter's cloak and laid it over the last living egg, wrapping it snugly. Hefting it in her arms, she tried to stand up and was nearly thrown off balance.
"Heavier than it looks," she chuckled when Dark kept her from falling over.
"Hang on." Dark picked up her discarded dagger, returning to the mother dragon's side. Carefully, he slid the blade under the thick scales of her neck, prying one loose to expose the skin beneath.
"What are you doing?" Lymira asked in an uneasy stage whisper.
"A bit of the mother's blood will help him survive. Dragon's blood is ten times as powerful as blue potion when it comes to healing," he explained, digging the point of the dagger into the dragon's throat. Dark, thick welled on the edge of the knife. With the bloodied tip, Dark pierced a small hole in the egg's tough shell, wiping the precious little blood across the opening. "It'll have to be enough."
"How do you know so much about dragons?" she asked, fascinated. Their gazes met, and Dark's attention snagged on the little smile curving her mouth.
"Long story," he answered. "Let's get this guy somewhere safe. I can take us back to Link's house."
"What about him?" she jerked her chin in the direction of the bound hunter.
"My magic will hold him for a while," he said. "I'll send someone to grab him. Gorons tend to frown on anyone angering the dragons."
Lymira nodded, hugging the egg to her chest. "He's still cold," she murmured, clinging tighter to try and share her body heat.
"Shall we?" he asked. He extended an arm towards her. "Grab on. Warping will be faster."
"If you say so."
She wrapped a hand around his forearm and nodded. Focusing his will, he enveloped her and the egg with his energy, coating her with his aura. He pictured the small white house with black trim, nestled in the hills.
In a blink, they were gone.
Link's house was a narrow two-storey with white-painted wood slats and a black roof. It huddled in the shadow of the ridge as if scared of Death Mountain, looming in the west. Near the front door someone had carved out a gravel switchback path, descending back into the valley.
Unlocking the door, Dark held it open and ushered her into the hall, where she could kick off her boots and long coat and hat. Scooping up the egg again, she carried it into the living area to the right, taking in the large, empty fireplace.
Light bloomed in the space as the sconces on the wall glowed to life and Lymira blinked. Peeking into one of the sconces, she was surprised to see a chunk of crystallized sunstone.
"Where did you find so many crystals?" she asked, crossing to the fireplace and carefully placing the egg on the floor. There was a stack of firewood and flint in a basket at the ready, so she grabbed both to build a fire.
"They're quite common in the Lost Woods, or so Link tells me," Dark replied, busy lighting lamps around the room for additional light.
"He must be quite a tracker," she remarked. Dark chuckled, and she glanced back at him.
His usual serious expression had returned, but the momentary crack left her perplexed. Seeing him today in the dragon's cavern had been a shock, especially after the last week of distance from him. Most days Lymira had surmised that Dark suffered from an incurable case of stick-up-the-ass, but then she'd get a small glimpse behind the mask of serious impenetrability.
He knelt beside her to check on the egg, brushing a fingertip over the hole he'd made for the mother's blood. A tattoo she hadn't noticed before encircled his left wrist, the design Sheikah in origin.
Lymira's gaze skipped to the bunched fabric of his shirtsleeve at his elbow. He still wore the form-fitting shirt and trousers from his trek up Death Mountain to keep him warm even in the frigid temperature. It fit his body snugly, emphasizing the width of his shoulders and the curve of his arm. She reached out to tap one of the symbols inside his wrist with a fingertip.
"What does this mean?"
"Protection runes."
"Protection from what?"
"Me."
Lymira frowned. He focused on the egg, not meeting her curious gaze. Her fingers continued to trace the intriguing symbols. She remembered what Elena had told her about the whispers around court. Did he mean protection from the curse?
"Do you want me to light it?" he asked.
Lymira shook herself. She glanced to the flint held loosely in her other hand. "No, I—" she paused, narrowing her eyes when she caught the ghost of a smirk on his lips. "I can do it," she continued firmly.
With a sharp clack, she struck the flint and leaned close to coax the flame into a fire. Dark was hefting the egg in his hands, cradling it near his chest. Heat emanated from him, separate from the growing blaze, and Lymira realized he was using magic to warm his hands. She half expected them to glow, too.
"I need to tell the Goron chief about the hunter," he said abruptly, passing her the warmed egg. He grimaced. "And I need to shower."
"I'll look after the egg," she told him, placing it gingerly in the nest of wood and flames. "I'll be fine on my own."
With a last long look at her, Dark nodded, and then vanished. The sizzle of magic in the air was the only clue that he'd been there at all a moment before. Lymira shook her head in disbelief. Learning to warp would be a great asset to add to her already considerable skill.
Magic was a rare gift, but it was woven into Hylian society—an incandescent thread among the many colours and textures. It was something to be treasured, not feared, as some did. It added to the beauty of the picture.
Lymira sat back and watched the fire's reflection dance in the burnished copper surface of the egg. The people of the Talus clans held a special connection to dragons. Before they'd been wiped out of the region, dragons had been wise mentors and elders, creatures of incredible intelligence and might. And, like Lymira's people, they'd been slaughtered out of hatred. Out of fear.
Dark's desire to help her save this dragon showed her he understood. She'd seen how some of Hyrule's courtiers treated him. Like something to be feared.
Like her, Dark knew what it was to have people turn their face away, to whisper in corners and watch from afar. He had magic. His blood wasn't pure. He was cursed…
Checking that the egg was safe and warming up, Lymira stood and paced around the room. Link's tastes were pretty spartan. The furniture was all wooden, comfortable, and decorated in deep greens and soft browns. On the mantel there was a pictograph of Link and Dark in their early teens, side by side as they fished off a dock.
After peeking in the tidy kitchen and small bathroom, Lymira wandered back into the hall, opening the door of the guest bedroom. The sun crystals in a bowl on the bedside stand lit up at her presence, illuminating a sparse bedroom. On the table was a bookmarked novel. Stowed underneath was a rucksack and a chest. When she bent to read the novel's title, a spark of blue caught her eye.
A paper was caught under the pillow, a splash of bright blue on the corner. Curiosity besting her, Lymira pulled it free. With the paper came a stack of others, clamped in a folder. Opening it, she realized what it was: a sketchbook.
Flipping through pages of scenery, weapon designs and a few other rough etchings, she pulled out the blue-painted corner. Her eyes widened.
It was a drawing of her. She looked right at the viewer, her lips curled the slightest bit. Half of her face was lit, with her dark eye shining like a gemstone, the striations in her iris so lifelike. The rest of her was in shadow, the pale blue eye piercing through the darkness, staring in open challenge. The blue colour stained the top corner of the page, as if painting over the darkness.
Lymira, transfixed by the drawing, jumped with a start at a muted thump from the other room. Shoving the art back into its folder and under the pillow, she scurried into the other room just as the bathroom door opened and Dark walked out, toweling his hair dry.
He stopped in his tracks, and she managed a neutral smile, trying for innocence. He walked across the room, keeping the towel he'd used to dry his hair in front of his upper body, covering everything but his arms and back. As he passed on his way to his room, she spotted two more designs in swirling black ink. One where his bicep met his shoulder, and the other at the base of his neck, stretching across his back.
"I was wondering if you had any more," she quipped as he rounded the corner into the hall.
She thought she heard another chuckle in response, and grinned. Dark was a bit of a mystery to her, but one she was enjoying unveiling. And her suspicions that they the two of them were more alike than it seemed were being confirmed.
When he returned fully dressed, she patted the space next to her at the fire. He held up a finger and darted into the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with two steaming cups of apple cider.
"Mm, much better," she approved, taking a sip.
They settled into some cushions propped against the table and watched the egg in comfortable silence, letting the fire and the hot cider work. The egg didn't stir, but Dark assured her that there was still a heartbeat. How he heard it over the crack and snap of the wood burning still amazed her.
"How did you know about the trick with the dragons' blood? I thought that was arcane knowledge."
"I knew a woman once; she was a gifted healer. She loved to read and she loved to learn. She told me about the healing properties of dragon's blood and why hunters find them so valuable."
Lymira scoffed. "If only they realized dragon parts can't actually grant eternal youth or perpetual erections."
Dark snorted into his cider. "Yes, she told me about the rumoured uses of dragon's blood as well."
"Her name was Sienna, right?" Lymira didn't know how to broach sensitive topics delicately. She wasn't a delicate person. She was a full steam ahead person.
If her brashness bothered him, he didn't show it. "Yes," he said. "I see you've been talking to Silas."
"He didn't share any details. Just that she was very important to you, and that you'd lost her."
Dark said nothing. He picked up the fire poker and adjusted one of the logs, letting a tongue of flame sprout anew.
"What was she like?"
Dark let out a half-chuckle, half-snort. "Why are you asking?"
Lymira shrugged. "I'm curious. And it might help me understand you better."
"You want to understand me?"
She huffed out a breath. "Look, if you don't want to talk about it, that's fine. Just sometimes the talking helps. I don't know." She drew her knees up, crossing her arms over them.
Dark leaned back, idly running his thumb over the lip of his mug. "She was very kind, soft-hearted. Sweet. She was a good person."
"The exact opposite of me, then?" Lymira joked, secretly triumphing when the corner of his mouth twitched with the urge to smile.
"You remind me of her quite a bit," he admitted. Now she was shocked. "Your bravery. Your care for others." When her face grew skeptical, he nodded at the egg in the fireplace.
Lymira glanced away from his probing stare and changed the subject. "How did you meet her?"
"After my parents died, I was taken to an orphanage in Castle Town. Her parents had also died in the civil war at the time, but she arrived before me. She was the first friend I ever made."
"And…more than that?"
Another half-smile appeared, this one carrying the weight of grief and bittersweet memory. "Yes, eventually. When we were young, I knew that I loved her, but when you're that age you don't really know how to build a life together yet." Dark sighed, staring without seeing into the fire as he spoke. "We…we planned to live together. We did very briefly, and then she got sick."
Lymira could see the sorrow stamped so heavily on his face. Could feel his loss like an omnipresent shadow. She understood that pain. Without a word, she let her fingers drift from her side and curl around his in his lap.
"She deserved better," Dark said hollowly.
Lymira squeezed his hand. He squeezed back.
For a long time, they sat together, watching the warm flames lick upward, fostering a small life within them. Gradually, the awkward silence gave way to a more companiable one. Lymira didn't dare move her fingers, afraid the smallest twitch would break the spell.
Finally though, the curiosity got to be too much for her; she just had to know. "Is it still alive?" She asked tentatively.
Dark chuckled softly. "It's about time." He cocked his head. "Yes, its heart is still beating."
Although relieved, Lymira was still hung up on the first comment. "About time for what?" Her tone was a spear's tip—straight, sharp and threatening violence.
"I thought you were going to vibrate out of your skin, sitting there so quietly." He said matter of factly. The slightest curl to the edge of his lips betrayed him. "In the time I've known you, you've never been so quiet."
Lymira snorted. "It may not happen frequently, but it does on occasion. When it does though, most men are overjoyed at its appearance."
Dark was immediately shaking his head. "Not me."
"No?" Lymira asked, shifting so she could face him better. Her fingers regrettably slipped from his, but she compensated by leaning forward into his space. "Why's that?"
With a single shoulder, Dark gave a shrug. The flames in the fireplace danced in his eyes. "I suppose I just prefer your usual fiery self."
Lymira didn't need any more invitation than that. Without warning, she sat up and slung her knee over his lap, straddling him between her thighs and reaching up to pull his head down to hers. She let him have a taste of her fire when she claimed his lips, her tongue darting out to lick, her fingers tunneling into his silky hair.
As he'd gone completely still at her first touch, she was gratified when he yielded, a shudder of pleasure traveling all through him. His hands slid to her back, caressing, then jumped to her shoulders as he angled his head away, breaking their connection.
She pushed back to look at him, irritation and confusion sharpening her voice again. "What is it? Are you gay? Wait, are you and Silas—?"
"No." He cut her off. His face was strangely pale. He let his hands drop from her shoulders. "Silas is straight."
"So what is it?" she asked, confused. "You're not attracted to me?"
He glanced down at his lap, then up at her with a wry grin. "I can assure you I am. I was just a bit taken aback by your interest."
She cocked a brow, trailing her gaze down over him. "You've seen yourself, right?"
His gaze flicked to hers and a half-laugh escaped. "Yes. It's been a long time since anyone's kissed me, though, the way you did. And recently, I made a decision to avoid relationships of any kind."
It took Lymira a moment to catch up to his meaning, as she was deciphering what he meant by nobody had kissed him like she had.
"Wait, you're celibate?" The word came out as a disbelieving chuckle. Dark shrugged again. "For how long?" she asked, then mentally pinched herself for the question.
"Almost a year."
Lym's jaw dropped. She snapped it shut. "Sorry. Um, that wasn't what I expected."
If she wasn't mistaken, the curl of his lips now was distinctly amused. She let out a blustery sigh.
"I suppose this means I'll have to give up my designs on you?"
Now his expression was a mix of sadness, regret and apology. It inclined her towards violence again.
"I'm not a good man, Lym," Dark said. "I can't give you what you should have. What you deserve." She shook her head vehemently, but he pressed on. "I'm broken."
"Because of the curse?" she blurted.
Dark's gaze snapped to hers with the force of an arrow just released. She wiggled experimentally on his lap. Dark hissed a breath through his teeth.
"Doesn't seem broken to me."
"Lym." His hands grabbed her hips now, immobilizing them. He looked stricken again, almost hurt. "Is that all you want?"
She frowned, trying to read the flurry of emotions crossing his face. She'd never been one to dance around a subject, so she forged ahead. "I feel a connection to you." Pretending not to see his shocked expression, she said, "That's why I kissed you the first time, and why I kissed you this time. I assumed…" she huffed as self-doubt crept in. "I assumed you felt the same. I can see I was alone in that."
Lym moved to step away from him, but he clasped her wrist. He met her challenging stare and said quietly, "You're not alone. I feel it, too."
"But it's complicated? Because of your past? Because of this—" she waved her hand in the air—"Curse?"
"Yes."
She crawled off of him and resumed her seated position beside him. Crossing her arms over her chest, she said, "I don't care about the curse, you know. And we all have pasts."
"What about Silas?" he asked suddenly.
Her lips twisted. "Is it awful of me to say that I feel something for both of you?"
"No. Would it be awful of me to ask us to be friends?"
She uncurled her arms to deliver a punch to his shoulder. "I thought we already were!"
He smiled wryly. "We are. I hope you want to stay friends."
Watching the flames flicker over the egg, she experienced a sudden wave of exhaustion. Talking about her feelings was bad enough, now thinking about them so much was liable to put her out. Lym propped her feet on the raised ledge of the hearth and leaned her head against his shoulder.
"I suppose so." She recrossed her arms with a yawn. "Let me sleep on it, yeah?"
Dark chuckled. She thought he said something, too, but she didn't hear it. Sleep was already claiming her.
Lymira's eyes flew open. The fire glowed crimson with dying embers, the blackened dragon's egg cradled inside them. Under her cheek was Dark's hard, warm shoulder, lifting ever so slightly with his breaths. They were curled up on the floor in front of the fireplace, and she was snuggled up against his side, her arm around his waist.
Lymira extricated herself with deliberate slowness. He was still asleep, so she scooted to the hearth and tapped her fingertips on the egg's surface. The shell was warm, but inside there was a radiating heat. She breathed a sigh of relief; the unborn dragon was still alive.
Dark stirred behind her, and she whipped around. Turning to her with bleary eyes, Dark blinked a few times. She gestured to the egg.
"It's stable," she announced. "But it'll need more heat in order to hatch."
Sitting forward, Dark joined her at the fireside, their shoulders brushing. "I can take it up to Darunia. He'll make sure it's safe until it can hatch."
"You mean we," she corrected, arching a brow when he glanced at her. "Don't think you're leaving me out of this."
He smiled one of his corner-of-the-mouth-turned-up smiles and nodded. "Are you up for another warp? The thought of another hike up Death Mountain makes me feel like lying down for another nap."
He stood up and stretched. The long-sleeved shirt he wore slid up his stomach, showing a tantalizingly swath of tanned skin and corrugated muscles.
"I'll warp," she said, hoisting the heavy egg from the fire into her arms. It was pleasantly warm, vibrant.
Dark placed a hand on her shoulder. Lymira shivered at the tingle that zinged through her. It's the magic, she told herself. Same as last time. If Dark noticed her reaction, he didn't say anything.
In a blink, they went from standing in the cozy confines of Link's home to a steep slope high on Death Mountain.
"This way," Dark murmured.
He snapped his fingers, and a flame sprouted in his palm. Holding it high, he guided them along a rough trail that cut deeper up the ridge, around a bend, then in until they found a stone doorway in the rock, partially hidden under an overhang. Dark blazed ahead into the unlit tunnel, the flame in his hand casting interesting shadows on the walls.
"You must know the gorons well," she remarked to Dark's back.
Lymira had known quite a few gorons back home in Lymira. The Rolling Ridge tribe had always been close allies of her people, co-existing for generations in the mountains they both called home.
A goron's hospitality was unparalleled in generosity of spirit, if not offering. Since gorons ate rocks, accepting a dinner invite from them was dicey at best. Still, they weren't keen on unexpected visitors. If Dark was comfortable walking right into their home unannounced, he was a friendly face.
"Fairly well," he answered, his voice echoing a bit in the tunnel. "Like I said, the goron chief and I are Sworn brothers. I told him we may return with the egg."
Light bloomed up ahead, and Dark extinguished his flame. When the tunnel opened to an enormous cavern, brightly lit with flames and sunstones, Lym gasped. All the goron homes she'd ever visited had been hewn from small caves or boulders. She'd never seen anything like this—a maze of caverns and tunnels, housing an entire tribe of gorons, completely protected within the mountain. There were even bridges spanning the upper section of the cave, over the sunken floor. While she was busy gaping, Dark took her elbow and guided her to the left, then down yet another tunnel that angled down.
The main cave was split into ringed levels, with the centre left empty save for the bridges. Knowing the way, Dark led her down to the very lowest level at the bottom of the pit, then, nodding at two hulking gorons standing vigil at a carved stone doorway, passed into a wide, square room.
The goron waiting for them would dwarf even Silas, he was so huge. Turning his boulder-like head, his stony face split into a wide grin, showing off giant, square, rock-crunching teeth.
"Brother Dark!"
The goron chieftain threw his brawny arms around Dark, lifting him clean off the floor with ease in a bone-crushing embrace. Lymira's eyebrows climbed to her hairline.
"Darunia," Dark wheezed. "We just saw each other earlier."
Darunia laughed and set Dark on his feet. "Friends can never be unwelcome, no matter how often they visit." He swung beetle-black eyes on Lymira, clapping his hands together. Did the earth shake a little under her boots?
"This is Lymira Talen," Dark introduced her. "She's an ambassador for Queen Anvi of Labrynna. She's the one who tracked down the dragon hunter and rescued the egg."
Darunia's expression turned stony again as his mouth flattened into a sympathetic line. "I remember the Talen clan. I was sorry to hear of their fate. It is an honour to welcome you to Goron City, sister."
Lymira's eyes bugged out of her head. "You…know what happened?"
Darunia tilted his head. "Of course. We Goron share all stories, good and bad. Our brothers and sisters in Rolling Ridge told us of the tragedy."
Ignoring Dark's questioning look, Lymira pushed aside thoughts of her clan and held up the egg. "It will need to be dipped in magma in order to hatch," she said, hoping the goron chief could help.
Darunia accepted the egg from her, handling it with surprising care in his gigantic palms. "We will care for it," he promised her with a gentle smile. "When it is ready to hatch, I will send a message to brother Dark."
Lymira dipped her chin low. "Thank you."
Darunia chuckled. "The thanks are all mine, drachli. Thank you for your help."
He called for one of the gorons outside to take the egg, instructing him to carry it to the city's magma pools and keep watch over it. Then, he turned to the two humans and grinned.
"Will you join us for dinner?" he asked. "We would love to welcome you."
"My stomach hasn't recovered from the last piece of rock sirloin you pressed on me," Dark joked. "Thanks, Darunia, but I should return Lymira to the castle."
Lymira politely declined too, bowing her head in respect and thanking the goron chieftain once more before she and Dark left. They climbed back up to the top level of the city, exiting back into the chilly night air. She inhaled a long breath, relishing the icy fill of her lungs.
"Drachli, huh?" Dark started without preamble. Lym groaned. "Dragonmate?"
"It's not like it sounds," she muttered. "My people were called that because we protected the dragons, as they protected us. They were our guardians."
"Hmm."
She was about to tell him where to shove that non-committal sound when he lit another flame in his hand.
"I feel like walking a bit," he explained with a shrug.
Side by side, they navigated the trail. The flame in his palm cocooned them in warmth in light, their own private oasis in the dark. They'd barely walked a few metres in blessed silence before he spoke again.
"What happened to the clans? I never heard the full story."
Lymira blew out a loud, obnoxious sigh. He didn't take the hint, looking at her expectantly. "It's not my favourite topic," she admitted.
Dark looked away. "I understand."
An annoying little voice in her head reminded her of everything Dark had shared with her tonight, including things that were no doubt personal and hard to talk about.
"The dragons had been dwindling for years by the time I was born," she started, deciding to work her way up to the tragic retelling. Maybe if she pretended it was only a story, as Darunia had said, it would come easier. "Growing up, there were only two still around, and they were both quite ancient."
She snorted. "My mother used to scold me for going into their cavern to talk to them. Told me not to bother them so much. But I was a curious and precocious child."
Dark smiled. "I can imagine."
"The clans were smaller than they used to be, too," Lymira continued. "But they were all my family. We kept to ourselves, to our way of life. For a long time, everything seemed perfect.
"I was playing in the caverns when the attack started. The dragons sensed it; they told me to return home at once. When I went outside, the sky was red from the fires across the valley."
Lymira closed her eyes; the glow from Dark's magical flame cast a crimson veil over her lids, returning her to that awful day. She could remember the chill in the air despite the inferno engulfing her village. The twin shrieks of the dragons, the tsunami of air that buffeted her as they whooshed out of the cave behind her. The muscles in her legs twitched as she remembered running as fast as she could, stumbling and slipping her way down the mountain.
"The dragons did what they could to protect us, but it was too much. Too many. Somehow, I found my way home, and when I ran in, my mother was there waiting for me. She told me to run and not look back." Lymira faltered, squeezing her eyes against the tears that threatened. "She'd never told me to run from a fight before. Never."
As long as she lived, Lymira would never forget the sight of her mother, knelt in front of their hearth. She'd grabbed her with shaking hands, the whites of her eyes showing all around as she insisted, pleaded with her daughter to run away and leave her behind. Her mother, the indomitable leader of the Talen clan. A woman who didn't show an ounce of fear.
Lymira had run, as her mother asked. Even as other fought and died. Even as the stench of death and smoke choked her and blotted out the stars. Even as the dragons fell to the burning earth, their wings curled in on themselves. Their bodies landed with the force of bombs, the earth quaking with the loss.
"I stayed in the mountains for three days," she said. "Too afraid to return. When I came back, it was almost like it never happened. All that was left were…piles of ash." When her voice came out in a choke, she hated it. She angled her face away from Dark and the flame he held.
"How old were you?"
She forced back the tears, turning back to him. "Eleven."
"I was barely four when my parents died in the civil war," he told her. "Luckily, I don't remember much of that night."
She appreciated that he seemed to know she didn't want condolences right now. They didn't change anything. Instead, he told her he understood and simultaneously diverted attention away from her own pain and embarrassing tears. And he had the decency not to look directly at her while she broke down, which was nice.
"Who was it that attacked you that night?"
She frowned and sniffed. "It wasn't a who, it was a what. It was this…" she sighed. "Darkness, for lack of a better word. It was like a living thing, everywhere and nowhere at once. There was no way to fight it. But there was a man…I think he was controlling it, telling it what to do. I've never been able to…what?"
During her explanation, she'd been looking down at her feet, but glancing at him, she'd trailed off upon seeing his stricken expression.
"That…" He swallowed, stopping abruptly. She did, too, propping her hands on her hips. "It sounds familiar," he managed. "Do you know who the man was?"
She shook her head. "I never saw his face. When I was assigned here to Hyrule, I was hoping I would be able to find out his identity by searching through the castle's library, but I've found nothing."
"I know who he is."
Now it was her turn to be gobsmacked. "You do? Who?"
Indecision slashed across his face, but he sighed and relented. "If my guess is right…it's the same man who cursed me."
Lymira's indrawn breath was a hiss. "What's his name?" she demanded.
After all this time, she'd finally learn the name of her mother's murdered. The man who'd killed her entire people. The last of the Talus dragons.
"He's a sorcerer. He was able to control shadows the way you described. And any manner of evil beasts and nightmarish creatures."
"What's his name, Dark?"
His throat worked as he swallowed, hesitated. "Alatar."
Lymira hardened her jaw. She finally had a lead. "Where can I find him?"
Dark frowned down at her. "You can't."
Her ire spiked. "Why not?"
Now it was Dark who would not meet her eyes. He stared into the pitch blackness surrounding them.
"He's dead. I killed him."