Temple of Time

In twilight, the white stone walls inside the Temple of Time looked grey. The gleaming marble floors lost their lustre. The stately main hall was frozen, as if time itself had come to a standstill. There was utter stillness inside.

The single torch Link carried wasn't enough to brighten the farthest corners; it was a flicker of movement, of life, in the temple that was tranquil as a tomb.

Shrugging the hood off her head, Zelda stepped into the centre of the stone pedestal at the temple's entrance. On its polished surface was the shadow of the symbol of Light. Link placed the torch in a wall bracket and joined Impa and Nabooru in huddling around her. The Temple of Time was one of many passages into the Chamber of Sages. As the seventh Sage, Zelda was able to use her abilities to grant them all access to the hidden realm in the Temple of Light.

An incredible wave of energy flowed through the princess, radiating out to capture them all. There was a strange sensation of being flipped upside down, or right side up again. Energy and light and time itself swirled around the group, closing them in a glowing blue prism. The glow intensified until it was blinding—then vanished.

The Chamber of Sages stretched into infinity, its cascading waterfalls of light spilling from nothingness, bathing the space in soothing light. On the iridescent platform, hanging suspended in space, four individuals waited for them.

Nabooru and Impa immediately took their places upon the fifth and sixth pedestals. Amber glowed beneath Nabooru's curved shoes, matching the intensity of her eyes. Impa stepped onto the indigo pedestal, glancing to her left and nodding at the Sage of Light, an old man clothed in ancient robes. Next to him, a young girl with virid hair cut short over her ears bit her lip anxiously, her forehead pinched with worry. Beside her, Darunia, chief of the Gorons, stood with his arms crossed, a characteristic frown on his stern face. Last was Ruto, still in her wedding clothes, her silver and jewels flashing in the light.

"Sorry about your wedding, Ruto," Link said.

Ruto's violet eyes settled on him, her expression venomous. "Promise me that the one responsible will have his head delivered to me on a silver plate, and I will consider not taking out my fury on everyone nearby."

"Don't be so dramatic," Nabooru scoffed. "It's no one's fault but Alatar's your wedding was ruined and Zora's Domain destroyed."

Ruto opened her mouth to retort, and Zelda cut in. "I'm glad to hear no one was badly harmed, Ruto," she remarked. "And rest assured we will assist in any way we can to restore Zora's Domain."

Ruto flicked her gaze to the princess. "I did appreciate you rescuing my guards. But you have to admit bad things have been following you two around as of late." She pointed her finger and waggled it back and forth between Zelda and Link. "I'd rather not drag my people into this mess."

"As Sages, we are all responsible for Alatar," Impa said, narrowing her eyes. "It is imperative we put Hyrule first, even above our own individual peoples."

Ruto pursed her lips but said nothing. Zelda could see the others were anxious to put in their opinions, so she asked Link to share what he'd learned of Alatar's motivations. After he did so, the silence that fell upon the group was even more tangible than the lingering tension.

"Do you think it's really possible for him to resurrect Ganon?" Saria asked, worried.

"I'm more concerned about Alatar's use of dark magic," Nabooru remarked. "It sounds like he's even using Sheikah magic, too. Do you think he'll try to use ancient Sheikah rituals in his plans?"

This she directed to Impa, who frowned. "Unfortunately, I am not well-versed in Sheikah rituals," she admitted. "And much of our historical records and spell-casting knowledge were lost during the war."

"If Alatar wants to resurrect the Demon kings, the goron elders may have some insight," Darunia offered. "As one of Hyrule's oldest peoples, our stories go back generations. There may be help in some of the old legends."

"I will ask the Great Deku Tree as well," Saria said. "He will want to help."

"It's all well and good to consult the histories," Ruto interrupted. "But what are we going to do once Alatar finally comes back from whatever evil little corner he's hiding in? He's already proven how powerful he is. We need to be ready now!"

Silence descended again as everyone considered the zora princess's words.

"I could pull the Master Sword out again," Link said slowly, knowing it would not be a popular option.

"Absolutely not!" Rauru growled, slicing a hand through the air. "Retrieving the Master Sword will only weaken the seal of the Sages on Ganon!"

"Why not let him?" Ruto argued, gesturing at Link. "He used the Master Sword once to defeat the greatest evil we've ever seen. Now Alatar wants to resurrect three of them and you say no!?"

"Pulling the Master Sword could have unforeseen consequences," Impa pointed out. "We should use it as a last resort and proceed with gathering more information."

"Alatar has already done considerable damage. Ruto is right, we should be ready for this fight, and Link is the best warrior we have!" Darunia smacked Link's shoulder with a broad hand. "Who better than he? And the Master Sword has chosen him."

Link noticed the concern in Zelda's eyes, the matching frown on Saria's face. "There is no seal on Ganon in this timeline. The Ganon I faced will stay sealed in the alternate time," he tried to reassure her, taking her hand.

"You are mistaken, Link," Rauru replied gravely. "The Ganon you faced is indeed sealed in this very Sacred Realm. This realm encompasses all times, and the Master Sword, no matter where—or when—it rests, is the lock which holds the Sages' magic."

"So, Ganon is sealed here, in this realm, and Ganondorf, leader of the Gerudo, is exiled in the Dark World at the same time?" Ruto shook her head. "This is making my head hurt."

"Regardless, it would be aiding Alatar for Link to pull the sword," Rauru explained. "It must remain where it is, no matter what."

"We are strongest together," Nabooru proclaimed. "So, let's prepare ourselves as best we can and get ready for another fight."

She glanced at Zelda and nodded. Zelda shot her a grateful look back. "I know we are all afraid and uncertain now, but I have faith in our strength when we fight together as one. I am grateful for all of your help," she said, meeting each of their gazes in turn.

Impa's—ever steady, ever loyal. Saria's—warm and hopeful. Darunia's—black as onyx and strong as fire. Nabooru's—sharp and determined. Ruto's—clear and committed. Rauru's—uncertain but resolute. Finally, Link's—deep, azure blue full of unwavering love and faith.

"And I hope when we meet here again, we will have a plan."

Goron City

The home of the Gorons was as busy in the evening as it was during the day. Even more so, since Darunia had ordered a veritable feast prepared in anticipation of his guests.

Sitting at the largest table he'd ever seen—really a smoothed, flat rock that was big enough to accommodate every goron in the city along with a dozen guests—Dark answered the mystery of how their hosts had managed to prepare such a large amount of food in so little time. Gorons had simple tastes, and dozens of their favourite rock sirloin treats were roasting at all hours of the day.

Dark nudged a heaping plate of the delicacy away from Lymira's outstretched hand. "Your curiosity isn't worth losing a couple of teeth," he warned her with a grin. "Trust me."

She shrugged and reached instead for a platter of human-friendly meat. It was hard to believe that only the previous night, they'd been ready to dine on the finest fare the zoras had to offer at Ruto's wedding. Not that he was complaining. The gorons best, and only, dishes and cutlery had been placed in front of the four of them, as well as the comfiest cushions to protect them from the hard floor. And the gorons themselves were excellent company, sharing stories and swapping jokes far more eagerly than the fastidious zoras.

While Dark, Lymira, Silas and Link ate with the crowd of boisterous gorons around the even more crowded table, a column of rock stood in its centre, crudely carved into a sort of cradle for the dragon egg. It had changed colour to a vibrant cobalt, which according to Darunia meant the egg would soon hatch.

Dark eyed it as he chewed on a piece of toughened, salted meat—the gorons were fantastic hosts, but inexperienced cooks for anything non-rock related. Sometimes the egg would quiver, as if its occupant could hear the party happening just outside the shell and wanted out.

Glancing sideways at Lymira, he noticed she was twisting the pendant of her necklace again. She'd been fidgeting with it since they left Hyrule Castle. He suspected something was bothering her, and that it was likely from seeing Alatar in the flesh. Although, it could be leftover impatience from having to wait so long at Hyrule Castle.

After Nabooru's shocking announcement, there had been little time to recover. Dark had been unceremoniously left in the castle library with Lymira and Silas while Link, Zelda and the Sages left for the Temple of Time to confer with the others about the latest developments.

Dark had filled in Lymira and Silas on who the Sages were and why they were having a clandestine meeting. Link had told him many years ago about their role in the defeat of Ganondorf, and he figured it wasn't fair to leave Lymira and Silas in the dark after everything they'd gone through. If the Sages wanted to fuss about him sharing information, they could. But they needed all the allies they could get, and Lymira and Silas needed to be brought into the loop.

They'd passed the time idly in the library, though Lymira had snooped around in the locked archives for a while. When Link had finally returned, it was to tell them that the king was sufficiently recovered, and Zelda and Impa had left to see him.

"It's going to be okay," Dark said, leaning close to Lym, though he wasn't worried about being overheard in this crowd. "We're going to beat him."

Lymira's sharp eyes sliced him. "What?" Her tone was sharper.

"Alatar," Dark explained, taken aback. "You don't need to worry about him."

"Oh." She flapped a hand and chuckled. "Right. Forgot about him. I was focusing on my other problems."

"Other problems?" He almost laughed. "There's a bigger problem than an evil sorcerer hell-bent on destroying us coming back?"

"Not bigger," she agreed. "But vexing." She eyed him. "I need your opinion."

A smirk curled his lips. "You're actually asking for it? Whatever the issue is must be very vexing."

Lymira's gaze flicked from his mouth to his eyes, amusement glowing. "Yes. It's about Queen Anvi."

When she said nothing more, Dark turned to face her completely, gesturing for her to continue.

Lym sighed. "Queen Anvi sent me a message to my home in Talus. She'd been invited to be Princess Zelda's guest in Hyrule, and she asked me to accompany her as a representative of my clan. I agreed, because I thought I would be able to find more information on Alatar and where he might be hiding. But on the day I arrived in Lynna, the day we were supposed to leave for Hyrule, Anvi told me to go in her stead."

Dark frowned. "Not unheard of, but it is strange if she already agreed to go."

"Anvi still intends to come to the wedding only, I think," Lym said, "But she asked me to go ahead of her and…keep an eye on the situation in Hyrule."

His frown deepened. "Spy, you mean?"

"Don't look at me like that," Lym grumbled. "I wasn't going to do it. As I said, I accepted her invitation only because I wanted to find Alatar, and Hyrule has far more resources for this kind of thing. I spent more of my days in Castle Town talking to potential informants and reading books in the library."

"Informants?" Dark seized on the word. "You could have been in a lot of danger talking to the wrong people about dark magic—"

"Dark," she grumbled, "I'm fine. Please listen. My point is Anvi clearly isn't happy with my half-hearted spying. I sent her reports, just to keep her happy, but her replies have been increasingly paranoid. She thinks Zelda and the Hylians are planning to invade Labrynna or something. She wants me to do something about it."

Dark rubbed a hand over his chin. "That is a problem."

"I have the letter," Lymira told him. "Just in case. I'm not sure what she expects me to do, but I'm worried if I don't respond she'll do something reckless. I wouldn't really care except that Labrynna doesn't deserve to be dragged into this mess."

"I agree." Dark sighed. "I think—"

"What are we talking about?" Silas asked over Lym's shoulder, crunching loudly.

"Are you…eating rocks?" Dark asked incredulously.

Silas laughed and showed him a handful of tiny rocks he was tossing into his gullet. "Sort of. Darunia gave me these. Said they were lava pebbles. They're hard but they pop in your mouth like spicy little grapes."

Lym eyed him doubtfully. "Are you sure you're not part-goron?"

Silas shrugged. "I don't see how I could be, since gorons don't—"

"Silas," Dark growled, interrupting a lesson on goron reproduction. "We're sort of having an important conversation."

Lym blew out a forceful breath. "Right. So what do you think?"

"I think we should show the letters to—"

Crack!

"Din help me," Dark sighed. "What now?"

"The egg is hatching!" Lymira gasped, jumping up from her seat, her skirts swishing.

In the centre of the table, the egg was wobbling violently, new cracks spiralling outwards every second. A wave of heat was released from the cracking egg, spilling over the table's occupants. Orange glowed from within as it split and burst apart, the flaming pieces of shell flying like projectiles around the room.

On Silas' other side, Darunia stood up and boomed, "Another new dragon is born!"

Cheers erupted from the gorons at the table, who pounded their bulky fists on the stone. Many years had passed since a blessed dragon was born on Death Mountain.

Free of its shell, the tiny creature lifted its head and peered around the room, blinking milky-white fluid from its eyes. Its cat-like pupils contracted in the light, revealing irises as bright as emeralds. Iridescent cobalt scales gleamed over its body, switching from turquoise to golden-green and back to fierce blue.

Darunia reached over and plucked it from the cradle. Grabbing a handful of lava pebbles, he held them in front of the dragon, who sniffed them and started chowing down. Swallowing, the dragon made an expression that could have been puckered, but on its lizard-ish face was more like anger. Then it belched a spout of flames at Darunia, which bounced harmlessly off him.

The gorons in the room laughed and cheered. Darunia handed the newborn dragon to Lymira, who cradled it carefully, allowing it to explore its new surroundings.

"What say you, sister Drachli?" Darunia asked. "Will you grant her a name befitting a blessed dragon?"

Lymira stared into the dragon's stunning eyes. Even newly hatched, there was intelligence, understanding in them. When she felt the dragon's spirit inside its small body, just as she'd felt the spirits of Talus's dragons as a child, tears sprang to her eyes. A blessed dragon. A tiny little miracle. And blue! Such a rare and enchanting colour.

"Zara," Lymira announced. "That's her name."

She glanced at Silas and Dark, laughing at their matching smiles. Around them, the gorons erupted in more cheers and celebration. Goblets of strong-smelling spiced mead were passed around to each of them.

"A great name," Silas said, reaching out to scratch under Zara's chin. Her cat-eyes closed in bliss, a rumble vibrating in her throat.

"A good omen, I think," Link said, smiling at the happy dragon who was now crawling around on Silas' shoulders.

"Hear, hear, brother!" Darunia agreed. "We need something to celebrate today!"

Lymira looked at the dragon perched happily on Silas' shoulder, seemingly bemused by all the activity in the room. A hatchling was always a mark of good fortune for the Talus clan, as Link had said. A promise of better times. Of returning strength.

Lymira could only hope this small, blue dragon was a message from the gods that their fortunes were changing.

As their plates were cleared the gorons began to relax or curl up for post-feast naps, Link turned to Darunia for a short, hushed conversation. The goron chief stood and gestured for Link and Dark to follow him.

"What's that about?" Silas wondered aloud as they left the room.

Lymira let out a fluttering breath. "Guess we're not invited to the party again. Wanna go walk around?"

Silas stood up, banging his knees on the low table for good measure. With a grimace, he adjusted Zara on his shoulder and followed Lymira outside. More than twice the height of your average goron, Silas had to duck under the doorway.

As they strolled down the many levels of the Goron City, exploring each carved ring, she filled Silas in on her conversation with Dark and the letter from Queen Anvi. Though he claimed to be politically inept, he thought it better to speak to Princess Zelda about it. She'd had the same thought, now wasn't the right time.

Reaching the bottom of the pit, she looked back up at the ascending rings, criss-crossed by stone bridges, support beams and ropes. The bridges were used by gorons for faster travel between the levels—though they were so narrow it was impressive they maintained the control necessary to balance on them. There was a certain kind of beauty to the rough-hewn caverns of the city. The warm brown stone was even cozier lit by the many torches, rugs and splashes of paint decorating the walls, showing dancing gorons, foreign symbols and smiling goron faces. The gorons didn't need much to be content. Their spartan surroundings reminded her a bit of the home of her clan, back in its glory days.

"Lymira," Silas called. "Look at this."

She walked past the closed door of Darunia's chambers, emblazoned with the symbol of Fire, and joined Silas at the entrance of a small tunnel snaking away into darkness. She looked where he was pointing at one of the images on the wall, and chuckled. A simple drawing of a Hylian wearing green stood next to a goron that was unmistakably Darunia with wild hair, and a smaller goron with a wide, gap-toothed smile.

Zara made a rumbling, inquisitive sound. Lym glanced at her, seeing her staring intently into the dark tunnel.

"Where does this go, do you think?" Silas asked, following their gazes. "Let me get a torch." He grabbed one off a mounted hook on the wall, turning to illuminate the way.

Zara coughed, then again, opening her mouth wide. A ball of fire formed on her tongue, creating a small halo of light. Laughing, Silas passed the torch to Lymira and followed her into the tunnel, carrying their secondary torch.

"Good dragon," Lymira approved. "Already learning to harness your fire."

The tunnel was narrow and long, descending deeper into the mountain until the temperature noticeably rose. Goron artwork decorated the walls, some of the sections crumbling with age, some of them repainted with fresh marks. They reached a dead end in a large chamber, completely covered in scenes of peeling paint, most depicting gorons and various stories, some featuring Hylians and other races of Hyrule.

Lymira spun in a circle in the middle of the room, letting the torchlight fill the cavern. "It's their history," she remarked. "Some of these are really old…"

"An interesting way to record history," Silas said, stepping closer to inspect it. He gently brushed a thumb over a fading section of painted stone. "It must be centuries, I think."

"The gorons have been around longer than that," Lym replied. "They even predate the Talus clan."

Silas frowned as his careful touch caused flecks of long-dried paint to flake off. "It's a shame they haven't been able to preserve this better. This paint was not mixed well."

"Maybe you can give them some advice on that," she suggested. "Aren't you a sculptor? I'm sure you know a kind of paint that clings to stone best."

"I might," he agreed. "But it might not be enough to save some of these older paintings. Too bad we can't turn back time."

Lymira's gaze snapped to him. He'd meant the words as a bit of a joke, but they stirred a thought in her mind. She'd been mulling the shared history of her people and the gorons, and had drifted back to her time in the secret archive earlier. After Zelda, Link and Dark had returned to the Hyrule Castle Library, she'd asked the princess for access to the locked section, wanting to explore the volumes there for any useful information on Alatar and her people's lost secrets. Zelda had agreed, opening the gate for her. Lymira had quickly found what she'd been looking for and read a passage on the people of Talus and their hidden abilities.

At Silas's mention of turning back time, her hand flew to the blue stone hanging on a cord around her neck. For many years, her people and the other clans had protected unique treasures capable of great magic.

Looking at the dragon on Silas's shoulder, Lym watched her closely. Her people had always followed the guidance of dragons. She had a feeling the hatchling had led her this way for an important reason. Could it be to help restore the fading history of the gorons of Death Mountain?

To her surprise, Zara turned to look directly into her eyes. Trilling softly, she held Lymira's gaze until she came closer. Stepping off of Silas and onto Lym's shoulder, she turned her small head to the other side of the cavern.

Taking a step, she took the dragon's quiet huff for confirmation. She stepped closer to the far wall, searching for the clue the dragon wanted her to see. Like a magnet, her attention was drawn to a section she'd thought cloaked in shadow, but really the painted images were nearly black, blotting the stone. They were thrown into stark relief against the red-brown rock as Silas approached with the torch.

"Spooky," Silas murmured.

A dark figure with glowing eyes marched ahead of a throng of demonic creatures, his arms raised to the sky. He had no discernible features, and the horde he led was a mass of black, seeming to crawl out of a crack in the earth. But the simple image radiated malevolence. The stain of black paint was old, but not completely faded, as the surrounding images were.

Zara trilled again, her tail curling around the back of Lym's neck. She put a hand to her throat, lifting the pendant over her head and holding it close to the stone.

"What's that?" Silas asked, curious.

"A treasure my clan has protected for ages," she explained, watching as it began to glow. "I think Zara wants me to turn back the past here."

Silas frowned, puzzled. "How can you do that?" He eyed the stone, admiring the craftsmanship. "It's beautiful. Where did you get it?"

"I don't know," she replied impatiently, concentrating on her magic. "My mother gave it to me. Hold the torch still."

Clasping the stone, she let its power pulse to life. Its light formed a small halo around them, before retreating from their physical forms, not quite touching them but outlining them. The light was liquid, reaching as far as it could in all directions, spilling from the centre of the stone.

The images on the wall began to change. Age peeled away. The paint bled back into existence, fresh as if it was just painted that day. More images appeared that had long since been wiped out, surrounding the dark army and its monstrous leader.

For a moment, Lymira could actually see ghostly imprints of the gorons who had originally painted it, their fingers stained black, faces grim as they recorded their history.

Then just like that, they were gone. The light of her pendant was yanked back inside it, and the memory of the gorons vanished.

She stumbled back from the wall, and Silas caught her.

"What just happened?!"

"It's okay," she assured him. "I was using my pendant to look into the distant past. But the reach isn't very wide."

"The stone…"

Lymira looked at the painting and gasped in surprise. The wall hadn't returned to normal. The visions of the past were still there, refreshed and new.

"That's…never happened before," she murmured.

"That wasn't supposed to happen?" he asked nervously. "It's kind of spookier now, too."

He was right. Instead of the shadowy horde, new images had appeared, creating a complete mural that stretched from the floor to the ceiling. Each small painting formed a circle around the middle, telling the story in stages. At the centre, though, was the same glowing-eyed figure, his hand reaching for a golden painted Triforce. On either side of him, two more sinister creatures also clawed for the golden triangles, not quite reaching it. At each of the three corners of the holy relic was a smudge of black paint, blotting out the gold.

"Definitely spooky," she agreed. "I don't remember hearing this story."

"Me neither. Maybe Darunia will know it."

"This story was completely faded," she pointed out. "Chances are that no one alive remembers it."

She studied the painting, caught in the centre of the mural. Like the centerpiece. Like a warning. Zara growled softly.

"We should go," she said, suddenly ill at ease. "I'm not sure…" She glanced at Zara, who was studying the mural with inquisitive eyes. "We should leave." But she couldn't make her feet move. She kept staring at the ominous pictures painted on the walls.

Silas hefted the torch and put a hand on her shoulder, steering her away from the wall until her sight of the mural was broken. She snapped back to awareness, but she couldn't banish the central painting from her mind. Zara cuddled against her neck, the dragon's warm body soothing against her skin. She nuzzled the dragon's head with her cheek.

Dragons were omens of good fortune for the Talus clan. Premonitions of light, wisdom and prosperity.

But she couldn't shake the feeling she'd just unknowingly uncovered an entirely different kind of premonition altogether.

Dark was ready to strangle his brother.

"It's not solely my decision, Dark. The Sages need to agree on this."

"Which one of them thinks I'm not good enough then? It can't be Darunia, I know we're fine."

Darunia grunted. "It's not a question of worthiness, Dark. If I had my way—"

"It's not about that," Link insisted. "As I said many times, the Sages are just concerned."

Dark glanced at Darunia. "I'd put money on Ruto. Or Rauru. He clearly doesn't approve of me." Darunia snorted, smothering a laugh.

"I'm being serious, Dark. Just give it some time. You know I think it's stupid of them to try and keep all this between the Sages."

"So it is Rauru."

"Dark."

"I'm being serious, too, Link," Dark said. "Me, Silas and Lym were all there. We know what's going on. The Sages really want to turn down free help? What will it take to prove my trustworthiness? And don't lie," he added sharply, seeing Link's protest. "You and I both know I'm the problem here."

Link sighed, dragging a hand down his face. "I honestly don't know. Darunia and I will meet with the Sages tomorrow."

At the answering heavy silence, Darunia cleared his throat with a sound like a dragon chewing gravel. "If we could get back to the matter at hand?"

Link sighed again. "Yes, please."

Darunia got straight to the point. "I've spoken to the Elders, and they have no information on the three Demon kings other than what's in the old stories. Unfortunately, we gorons don't like to reminisce about the darker parts of the past."

Link's shoulders dropped. "So we have nothing."

"You may have better luck in the tunnel of ages," the goron chief suggested. "There may be clues we haven't seen."

"It's worth a shot," Link agreed, his hopefulness returning.

"What's the tunnel of ages?" Dark asked.

"Follow me," Link said, waving a quick goodbye to Darunia and grabbing Dark's arm to drag him outside the chieftain's room.

One short torch-lit walk later, Link stowed the torch in the cleft between two boulders and gestured to the goron-made historical record decorating the walls.

"This is the tunnel of ages. Darunia brought me here a long time ago to tell me about the history of the Heroes and the first people of Hyrule."

Dark studied the fading paintings, looking for evidence of evil in between dancing, happy gorons. Glancing at Link, he noticed his expression was lilting towards sad again.

"Hey, I didn't mean to be an ass earlier, it's just—"

"It's not that." Link waved a dismissive hand. Then he pointed to the wall at the back of the cavern he'd been studying. "I was looking at the story Darunia told me. About the First Hero who faced the Demon kings the first time around."

Dark followed his gaze to the paintings in question. The image of a heroic knight, his sword lifted to smite the crawl of evil around him, stood out.

"Too bad we can't ask him how he defeated them in the first place," he remarked. "Might make our jobs easier."

Link brushed a hand over the rock's surface, his forehead creasing. "No one even remembers him, Dark. This is the only record of him ever existing." He dropped his hand. "Impa said any records of this kept by the Sheikah were destroyed in Ganondorf's attack. She doesn't have anything to remember her people by."

Dark turned to him, seeing the mournful look on his brother's face. "Where is this coming from?"

Link stared at the paintings, his eyes jumping from one to the next. "When I was in the Chamber of Sages, I kept thinking about what's going to happen." He paused, lifting his hand halfway to the stone. "I don't know why, but I was sad. And disappointed."

Confused, Dark asked, "Why?"

"Because if we do our jobs and defeat Alatar, no one will remember it. The Sages will seal him away, and he'll be forgotten."

"Isn't that a good thing?"

Link glanced at him, emotion warring on his face. "Being back in that place reminded me of when I first woke up," he explained. "And no one remembered me. I went home to the forest…and they'd all forgotten me."

Unsure what to say, Dark kept silent.

Link brushed his hand over a divot in the wall marring an image of the demon horde. "People like Ganondorf destroy things. Erase history. Alatar did it, too, to Lymira's family. He's trying to go back and rewrite everything that happened with the Demons. And the only people who knew how to stop him aren't even remembered in legend or myth. They're just…gone."

Link dropped his hand, looking away from Dark. "Is it wrong that I'm afraid of the same fate? Of being forgotten again?"

Dark studied the image of the faceless Hero again. It was just dabs of paint on a wall, but it held invisible power. It seemed to draw the gaze from all others around it. The entire cavern thrummed with energy, now that he noticed.

"You remember them."

Link scoffed. "It doesn't help anything now, does it? They're long dead."

Dark rolled his eyes. "You can believe our long dead father can pass us a message and potentially make a difference in our lives, but you have trouble thinking that you, who is likely more connected to these past Heroes than anyone else in the universe, can remember what they've done and not have that mean something?"

At Link's stubborn silence Dark sighed and stared at the wall again. He swept his gaze around the room. The torch they'd brought was casting shadows all over the cave, flickering eerily over the painted histories.

"Let me try something," he suggested, reaching out to grasp Link's shoulder.

"What are you—"

Before Link could say another word, Dark dragged them both into Shadow.

The first time Dark traveled to the Shadow realm in Death Mountain was when Impa taught him the skill. Or at least the theory of it. He'd been surprised to actually pull it off. Then, Death Mountain in Shadow had been a slumbering beast with an active heart, pumping with magma, steam and ash waiting to be released. The gorons, as long-lived and sedentary beings, moved through Shadow as slowly as the rocks they imitated, hardly disturbing the ebbs and flows of time.

This time, diving into the Shadow realm was a very different experience.

He and Link fell for ages. Or through ages, more accurately. Time was a thick miasma surrounding them, stacked and impenetrable as the layers of geological history. But they kept sinking in blackness. Splashes of colour jumped out from the walls every so often, becoming moving, running retellings of the stories ancient gorons painted there.

Sooner or later, they would reach the bottom. And they could see what the walls had to say about the ancient Demon war and its three would-be kings.

It may have taken a century, but he was able to turn his head and look at his brother. Link watched the moving pictures slipping in and out of the miasma, entranced. But he was alive and seemed to have kept his sanity.

He'd succeeded in bringing someone else with him into the Shadow realm. Who knew what that meant just yet.

Untold millennia later, they landed on the bottom. The moving images settled into a peaceful scene. Children playing, running in a meadow. Adults cooking, talking, gathering. A goddess in a white robe, surrounded by children, playing a golden harp. On her head rested a glowing circlet of light. Hylia.

From behind the singing goddess, a burst of darkness cracked the earth. The Demon horde poured free, unleashed by the three largest and most fearsome—the Demon kings. Exchanging her harp for a sword, the goddess took up the fight with the three kings as their ravenous army descended on an answering one made up of humans and gorons and other unrecognizable creatures.

Hylia's body began to glow brighter, the image of the Triforce appearing in her hands. Frantic, the Demon kings clawed for it, but she kept it from their reach. Passing it to the human general, she gathered the humans together. Raising her arms, she commanded the land to separate and lift into the sky, taking the humans—and the Triforce—far out of reach.

From the remaining forces, a swordsman in green stepped forward. The First Hero. Beside Hylia, he attacked the Demon kings, driving two of them back into the darkness. The final, and strongest, of the three turned to meet him. They battled on and on, as Hylia's magic seeped out to repair the scars left by the demons, and chase away any survivors to join their masters. As soon as the last demon was chased off, the gorons banded together and began filling the crack in the earth, healing the wound.

Meanwhile, the Hero was still battling the Demon king Demise. He was gaining ground in the battle, but he'd been wounded. Hylia rejoined her Hero for the final effort to defeat Demise. Soon, the Demon king was defeated, but the Hero also fell. Hylia caught him in her arms.

"Everything he did isn't forgotten, Link. The whole point is that his legacy lives on through you, right?" He clapped his brother's shoulder again. "Someday, you'll be able to pass your legacy on to the next poor soul."

Link finally chuckled, glancing sideways at him. "Thanks, Dark."

"Don't worry about being forgotten, Link. I won't let that happen. And neither will they."

He pointed to the image of the gorons celebrating the defeat of the Demons with dance and cheer. Next to it was the bittersweet victory; Hylia glowing white and gold next to the fallen Hero, the Triforce floating above their heads, safe from evil once again.

"Does it really float like that?" Dark wondered, frowning. "Seems a little strange…"

"Dark."

"I'm just saying."

"No, look!"

He did. And his heart plummeted to the floor.

Underneath the images of celebration, new pictures were forming. Far beneath the earth, the shadowy horde of Demons writhed around their three kings, wallowing in defeat. The kings themselves were closer to the surface world, hands outstretched as if longing to return.

Above their hands, however, was an altogether more disturbing vision.

A second Triforce rested in the space between the underworld of demons and the surface, glowing weakly, each of its three corners tainted, slowly rusting.

Demise's hand curled around it, clutching it in his fist. His silver eyes fixated on the pair of them, challenging and gloating.

In a blink, the malice coating the relic spread. It was changing before their eyes.