Gerudo Fortress
Nabooru marched through the corridor, the flames of the torches lining the walls fluttering with the speed of her passage. Rounding a corner, she didn't slow. The maze of Gerudo Fortress was as familiar to her as the shifting sands of the desert, its warmly lit, low-ceilinged stone halls a refuge in a harsh place.
"Nabooru, you must reconsider!" Imara hissed from behind her, hurrying to keep up. "It's the middle of the night. This can wait."
Imara didn't know it, but she was wrong. It couldn't wait. This was urgent.
"It's waited long enough already," Nabooru replied.
Cooler air swept across her bared arms. At the end of the corridor was the open doorway, which she charged through without waiting for Imara. Crossing the open space, she entered a second doorway. The smell of hay greeted her as she bypassed the guards, who stood at attention as she passed.
Nabooru stopped at the stall that held her favourite grey mare. She began saddling the horse herself, while Imara continued to glare in disapproval.
"Bring us some water and a warmer cloak," she snapped at the guards, who left quickly. "If you insist on making this journey, let me come with you," she implored Nabooru, moving to stand at her shoulder.
Shaking her head, Nabooru shot her an apologetic look. As chief of the Gerudo tribe, she had a responsibility to her people. But as the Sage of Spirit, she had a duty to the greater world, and—more importantly—the world beyond the veil.
Being a spiritual people, she knew her sisters would understand. Yet her status as one of the Sages was a closely guarded secret from all but a few. It pained her to not be able to give Imara more transparency about tonight's mission and its true purpose.
"I'm sorry, Imara, but I need you to remain here. I'll be back within a few days."
The other woman frowned, her striking features outlined in the torchlight. "The desert is dangerous, even for you."
Their conversation was interrupted when the guards returned, packing Nabooru's saddle bags with the necessary supplies and handing her a heavy cloak to ward against the chill. Nabooru wrapped the garment over her shoulders and mounted the horse, turning back to Imara.
"I'll find out what's disturbing the temple and be back as soon as I'm able. I'll send word," she promised.
Imara's shoulders dropped from their tense position in defeat. She knew she would not sway her.
"Then rest assured everyone here will be taken care of."
Nabooru smiled. "Thank you, sister. Hah!"
Digging her heels in, she prompted her horse out of the stall and through the open doorway. They raced across the hard-packed dirt and out into the desert. The black outline of Gerudo Fortress, its lit windows shining, became smaller and smaller behind them as the desert stretched on.
Hyrule Castle
Link strode down the hall with haste, his footfalls landing silently on the plush carpeting, his shadow wavering in the light of the carved metal sconces on the walls. In this wing of the castle, the royal apartments were located, and so the décor was appropriately elevated.
Anxiety jumped into his throat as he approached the door at the end of the hall, flanked by two guards, with two more stationed a short distance down the corridor. Somehow, the thought of asking the guards to step aside so he could enter Princess Zelda's private chambers chased off his other concerns.
Thinking of how Dark would laugh over his predicament—he never visited Zelda's bedroom alone, and especially not in the middle of the night—worry for his brother came rushing back.
Dark was unconscious in the infirmary now, but the royal physician had assured Link he was fine and that the poison would be drawn out. Poison. Link replayed the scene from the courtyard once again his mind. Right before the assassin had fired, Dark had shifted, perhaps blocked the shot. Taken the arrow meant for him.
The assassin had been detained by the castle guards and was now awaiting her fate in the dungeon. When the guards had pulled off her dark hood and revealed her face, he almost hadn't believed it.
A Gerudo woman. A Gerudo had tried to assassinate him.
It wasn't totally unexpected. After Ganondorf's arrest and execution for treason, there were some Gerudo who remained loyal to him. Who felt his execution was unjustified. And somehow, they knew the blame lay with Link.
He slowed his steps, mustering an authoritative command for the guards. He was saved from their unknown reaction by the door opening.
Impa's crimson eyes lasered him. "Link, finally. Come in."
The guards dutifully stepped aside for him. He bit his tongue against saying anything. There was enough happening at the castle tonight more interesting than the future prince visiting the princess.
"I came as soon as I could," he said to Impa, who shut the door behind him.
"The assassin?" she asked, all business.
"In the dungeon," Link replied. "A Gerudo woman. She won't tell us her name. She hasn't talked at all."
If Impa was surprised, she didn't show it. "And Dark?"
"He and two other soldiers were wounded by the poison arrows. Doctor Maden said they will recover."
"Good." Impa glanced over her shoulder at the closed bedroom door. "I loathe to leave the princess alone at a time like this, but she will be safe with you." She pinned Link with her gaze to punctuate the point. "I will see what I can do for Dark in the meantime. If it's a Gerudo poison, I may be of some help."
Link swallowed. "Thank you."
Uncharacteristically, Impa placed her hand on Link's shoulder. "I gave her a tonic to help her sleep. Make sure she takes it."
With that, Impa left, leaving Link alone in the apartments. The room he was in, Zelda's receiving room, was wide and rectangular, with a sunken area in the centre furnished with comfortable couches and chairs. Across from the door were three arched windows, two with small reading benches and the centre one actually a door leading to the half-moon balcony. From behind the door leading to Zelda's bedroom and dressing room, he could hear movement.
Walking away from the shdaows at the door towards the balcony, he waited next to the windows. The moon was full and bright, but it was hard to admire tonight. Not even the nostalgia of looking out at the balcony, where he and Zelda had sometimes met in secret in the early days of their courtship, completely banished the fears in his heart.
Behind him, the door opened, and a small gasp preceded a slight body colliding with his back and arms sliding around him.
"Link, thank the goddesses," she mumbled against his back, hugging him tightly.
Managing to spin in her grip, Link wrapped her in his arms, lifting a hand to brush damp hair from her forehead. "I'm alright," he murmured.
Zelda lifted her head, her face shining with fresh tears. "Impa took me from the ballroom so quickly, I didn't know what had happened. And she wouldn't leave my side to go help you…"
Link pressed her close. "That's what she's meant to do, darling. Protect you. I had soldiers, and Dark, with me."
Zelda swiped a hand over her face, sniffing. "Of course. Is he alright?"
"He will be. He's in the infirmary with Impa now. The assassin is in the dungeon."
Some of the tension evaporated from her, and she buried her face against his chest. "That's good. I was so afraid…"
He trailed his fingers over her damp hair. "Impa said you should try and sleep."
She jerked back like he'd electrocuted her. "Sleep is the last thing on my mind," she said sternly. "We need to question the assassin immediately."
"She hasn't said anything yet. Lillian's guards are with her. It can wait until tomorrow," Link assured her.
"It can't. Someone tried to kill you, Link. Inside the castle grounds!" Zelda paced away from him, the long robe she wore fluttering with her steps. "If I don't handle this immediately—"
She broke off as she whirled back to him. A thousand emotions flickered across her expression before they retreated behind the royal mask she'd perfected.
"I am the acting monarch as my father is still too ill," she said, her voice steady as steel. "I need to take care of this."
Link admired the resolve in her eyes, the confidence in her stance and steel in her spine. The future queen. Yet he also saw the woman he loved. The one with worry and stress creasing her forehead, with dark shadows under her eyes.
"No one is expecting you to solve this problem tonight," he tried again, stepping close to her and reaching for her hands. "I know you don't want to let anyone down—"
"Let them down?" she hissed, yanking out of his grasp. "It's not disappointment, Link, it's failure. If I can't show leadership at a time like this…" Her breath hitched and she turned for one of the plush couches, landing on it with a sigh.
"I'm not ready to lose my father, Link."
Link sat beside her, taking her hand in his. She let him this time. "The king is recovering, isn't he?"
Zelda's eyes glimmered with tears, but she held them back. "He was supposed to attend tonight, but he took a turn for the worse. No one can tell me why he continues to suffer from fevers, or if he will recover." She shook her head. "When I went into that ballroom tonight, when I looked in the eyes of my subjects…I could feel their expectations, Link, all at once. I wanted to run right out of there."
Link slipped his arm around her and rested his chin on top of her head. With a sigh, she leaned against him.
"During the other time…" she started, hesitating. "When Ganondorf killed my father, it was awful, of course, but I still had hope for Hyrule. I was so young, but I told Impa I was ready to help my people." She paused, idly rubbing her thumb over his palm. "And I did, as Sheikh. I was proud of any little thing I could do, even if it never felt like enough."
"You saved countless people," Link assured her. "Just because that timeline is erased, doesn't mean all that is truly gone."
"But when time went back on itself, and my father was suddenly alive again," she said quietly. "I only felt relief. I was relieved that my father could be the king once more. I was happy I didn't have to be queen just yet."
Hearing the shame in her voice, Link drew back. He cupped her face in his hands. "Zelda, it's not wrong to not feel ready."
Zelda's fingers encircled his wrists, her teary gaze lifted to his. "I thought I could prove to them, and to myself, that I was ready. But then tonight…I was so helpless. I couldn't do anything."
Link swiped aside a tear that escaped, pressing his forehead to hers. Dark's advice from the courtyard came back to him. He looked at her, his heart aching at the tiredness he saw.
"Try to sleep," he cajoled. "And tomorrow, whatever happens, we'll handle it together."
A small smile curved her lips. "Together. Always," she agreed.
The stars were beginning to melt away in the encroaching dawn. Up ahead, the concealed ridgeline scribbled across the still-dark horizon. Nabooru squinted through the veil over her face, picking out the slight markers of her destination.
The sand sloped downwards, and she emerged into the hidden valley. Past the mesas and rolling dunes, the great Colossus awaited her, seated above the entrance of the Spirit Temple.
Nabooru pulled her horse to a stop at the ancient stone steps in front of the entrance, half-buried in sand. Unbuckling the saddle, Nabooru hefted it over her shoulder and gave the mare a pat on the neck. She would no doubt wander to the nearby oasis for a drink while Nabooru was inside.
Depositing her supplies near the entrance, the Sage went inside. Inside the temple was warm and dry, but still dark. Gerudo ancestors had carved skylights in certain sections of the temple, placing mirrors strategically to catch the sun's rays and naturally light the interior—but only when the sun had risen.
Lighting a torch, Nabooru navigated to the altar room at the temple's centre, relying on her memory. She suspected all the Sages had a sort of instinct, a sense that allowed them to find temples or whatever spiritual hotspot they might be searching for.
After all, it was certainly this 'Sage sense' that had brought her here in the first place.
For the past several nights, Nabooru had been plagued by a call from the spirit world—an urgent need to speak to her. She hadn't recognized the spirit who was calling, but she knew her powers as a Sage would lead her to the right one.
She lit the torches surrounding the altar, illuminating the space, and sat cross-legged on the platform. Closing her eyes, she allowed the hard stone beneath her, the dry, dusty space to disappear. Her breaths rose and fell steadily, until they, too, vanished from awareness.
Meditation here was always easier. Within moments, she could see the curtain that separated the Light World from the other side—the world of spirits.
It shimmered across her vision, threads of light woven together to create an incredible tapestry. Nabooru reached towards it, allowing it to welcome her in.
Spirits immediately bombarded her, surrounded her. Rather than strings of light, they appeared as faint shapes and silhouettes. These spirits were those of her sisters who had passed on, and the most familiar to her.
Nabooru allowed their presences to wash over her, let the memories they brought with them flash through her mind. They enveloped her like a fond embrace. Each specter of light was unique, every colour of the rainbow. Nabooru let each one come to her and pass through her. Everything they felt was echoed within her, their joy, their sorrow, their love. She accepted it all.
From the corner of her eye, she could see a deep red thread, snaking off into the darkness. Ganondorf's spirit never came to greet her, but it remained close by, as familiar to her as any of her sisters'. She'd never been able to reach him in the spirit world, though she'd only tried once.
Though his execution had come as a relief to so many, Nabooru had still grieved in private. For the man he had once been, for the promised leader her people had never received. For the brother that she'd lost to darkness.
She cast out her senses, calling out to the one who had summoned her here.
"Are you here?" Nabooru called, turning away. "I'm looking for the one who called me."
A few heartbeats later, a bright blue thread of light separated from the others. Nabooru's own spirit recognized it as the one who'd called—her Sage's instincts, perhaps.
It circled around her metaphysical form, then formed into a sphere that rose to chest height. From it, a hazy figure solidified into the image of a man with black hair and midnight blue eyes. He had strong, stoic features, but she could see the relief in his gaze upon seeing she'd answered his call.
Nabooru was taken aback. The man bore a striking resemblance to someone she knew, yet he was a little older, and wore the armour of a Hylian soldier from an earlier time.
He inclined his head towards her. "Sage of Spirit," he said, his voice as strong and sure in this world as it would have been in life. "Thank you for coming to speak with me."
"You have a message for me?" she asked.
The man lifted his head. "I have a message for my sons in the Light World. My name is Naron of Tellura."
Nabooru felt her lips curl in a smile. "I know your sons well, Naron of Tellura. I will pass on your message."
He bowed his head once more. His gaze fixed on Nabooru's, full of warning. "My family is in danger. Please tell them to help their mother."
Nabooru froze in momentary shock. "Isn't their mother here?" she asked, looking around as if the woman's spirit might pop up at any moment.
Naron shook his head. "She is lost. She needs their help before he finds her."
"Before who finds her?" Nabooru asked.
"Someone who has long held a grudge against our family. He has been trying to cross over. He has tried already to revive the darkness…"
Ice flooded Nabooru's veins. Was someone trying to revive Ganondorf?
"Please warn them," Naron pleaded. "They must find her. And they must stop him. He is not what they think."
"Who is this man?" Nabooru demanded, furious to think of some evildoer interfering in the realm she guarded.
"I know not his name. He is a powerful dark sorcerer. He has threatened Hyrule in the past." Naron's image began to blur, then solidified again. "I cannot remember his face…"
Nabooru frowned. Unfortunately, many spirits experienced amnesia of some aspects of their life. "I will pass on your message," she said, meeting his eyes. "We will talk again."
A ghostly smile flitted across the soldier's face. He nodded one last time, as his form blurred and then dissolved back into a floating, flowing string of blue light, rejoining the tangle of spirits still shifting, rippling.
Nabooru felt herself pulling back, returning to her physical body. The weight on her shoulders was real as she settled back, opening her eyes. Ignoring the stiffness in her arms and legs, she stood up and grabbed the torch she'd brought. There was no time to waste.
She had a message to deliver.