Chapter 49: To Walk In Shadow
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The call of the Illusory Realm was difficult to ignore throughout the first day, as Impa explained that his mind needed to be calm and quiet if he was to have any chance of successfully using magic. Every time he attempted to clear his mind, the iron grasp of his dreams clawed for his attention instead, fighting to take him away. Every time, as he grounded himself to the living, tangible details of the old Hinox cell around him, cold, damp, and putrid, the door to the Illusory Realm trickled away, and he managed to reach a state of tentative calm. And every time Impa asked him to progress further, to reach for the magic in his soul – the same force binding him to his memories – the Illusory Realm encroached once more, and the whole process started over again.
Impa rubbed her temples wearily. "You're just… stuck," she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration. "And it makes sense – you've never used magic for anything else, so of course it would be difficult to break that train, but…" She sighed again, shaking her head.
"It gets easier each time," Link assured her eagerly, surprised by his own enthusiasm. But it was incredibly empowering, successfully beating back his nightmares time and time again, maintaining control of himself and his mind. Though his body still had so much strength to regain, his spirit felt stronger than it had in weeks. Even if I don't learn any other magic or spells out of this, I'll be satisfied with what I've done here.
Impa blinked, straightening, as if struck by a sudden thought. "You've… never actually seen magic, have you, boy?"
Link frowned. "I have," he assured her, thinking back. The Illusory Realm itself, of course. And whatever it was that enabled him to focus so clearly in the heat of battle, so that even time itself seemed to slow, as he had mentioned to Daruk all those months ago. Mipha's healing powers, Daruk's shield, Revali's mastery of the winds and Urbosa's control of lightning…
And the Master Sword and its spirit, as well as Zelda's visions into the Sacred Realm, but his tongue felt heavy at the thought of sharing those with Impa. No, those experiences are mine to keep. For now, at least.
"The Champions seem to have… quite a bit of magic," he said at last, meeting Impa's gaze. "I've seen it several times now."
"Ah," Impa nodded, frowning heavily. "Of course. I'd forgotten. Many people don't encounter magic often enough and thus assume it cannot exist, or is out of their grasp. But I had forgotten about your exposure to the Champions." She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "But… none of that is Sheikah magic, which I am attempting to teach you now… You've never seen Sheikah magic."
"I've… seen the Sheikah Slate, and -"
"That is our technology, not our magic," Impa corrected stiffly. "Which, since you brought it up earlier, is something else that has driven a wedge between my sister and I. Of old, the Sheikah tribe were masters of arcane arts – we could teleport, conjure complex illusions, command the heavens themselves, divine secrets long hidden away, and reveal lies posing as truth. It saddens me to know that so few among us are still fluent in mere fragments of the old magic."
"And that's what you're hoping to teach me?" Link asked slowly, trying to imagine himself in a situation in which finding old secrets would be useful.
"Yes, and no," Impa answered, crossing her arms. "The spells I have in mind for you are relatively quite simple, but useful. Turn away from me for a moment, wait until you smell something acrid, and then turn back around."
Confused, Link nonetheless did as she asked, turning to face the wall. He heard a faint sizzling sound and caught a whiff of something that brought back memories of a journey to the Akkala Citadel years ago – the only place in the kingdom using cannons.
"Is that gunpowder?" he asked, turning around, only to give a start – the chamber was empty, save for the bones of the old Hinox prisoner and its shackles hanging from the ceiling high above. Link felt a chill claw down his spine; it was exactly the sort of thing to happen in his nightmares. And the darkness – the shadows, so thick in this cell – the air thick and smelling of death and decay –
His pulse was accelerating. Struggling to swallow, his mouth dry and sticky, he fought off the call of his memories, breathing deeply but much to quick, struggling to ground himself. Come on – I've done this successfully so many times before today. I can do it now! But where had Impa gone? The strange sound, and the gunpowder –
He heard a slight grinding sound, like a booted foot on loose, damp rubble, and spun towards the sound. There was nothing – nothing at all. Just the ever-present shadows, the bones and rubble –
And Impa, stepping suddenly from the shadows, from straight nothingness, into the torchlight across the chamber from him. Link gave a start, his heart leaping to his throat, his hand flying to the hilt of the Master Sword.
"It's me," Impa called, raising her hands placatingly. "I apologize – I should have told you what I planned. In the moment it seemed more effective to simply jump right in, but I see now that – well, the point is, I'm sorry."
Link accepted her apology with an uncertain nod, his pulse still on fire. I don't remember being so jumpy. He winced inwardly. But I guess waking up from a nightmare to an assassin and a knife in my gut will do that.
Impa studied him critically for several moments, her crimson eyes unreadable. "Your injuries… didn't reopen after that?" she asked after a lengthy pause. "Nothing hurts more than it should?"
Link shook his head slowly. "No, I… I'm fine," he confirmed, his heartbeat slowly returning to normal. He swallowed again. "I take it that was one of the spells?"
Impa nodded. "It's a form of one of our more common spells. The fully-fledged version of the spell requires the use of a deku nut. The spellcaster hurls it to the ground and it explodes, creating a flash and a small wave of concussive force that briefly stuns and blinds anyone nearby. And when the smoke clears, the spellcaster is invisible.
"What I just did is the subtler version of that," she explained, gesturing to a small leather pouch hanging from her belt. "As with most spells of concealment, it cannot be cast in direct line of sight of an enemy without the use of some sort of distraction, which is why I had you turn around. I then sprinkled deku powder to the ground, which called to the shadows and gathered them near. I accepted them, and then of course when you turned around they hid me from your view."
She unfastened the pouch at her belt and handed it to him. "My hope is that, after experiencing my magic in action, it'll be easier for you to cast a Sheikah spell of your own. Hitherto now, we were working without a general focus – my plan was to instruct you as you reached a state of mind capable of spellcasting. Now, you have an end in mind – successfully casting a spell of concealment. And you know generally how the spell should work. So clear your mind once more, and then use the deku powder to summon the shadows. Accept them, and the spell should work."
Link shivered, feeling a small knot of stress building between his shoulder blades at each work. Accepting the shadows – it sounds exactly like entering my nightmares. Entering the Illusory Realm.
Impa set her hand on his shoulder, bending down to look him in the eye. "You can do this," she told him quietly. "You have the capability, and you have the willpower. You can, and will, bend your magic to obey your commands."
Link nodded curtly, grateful for her encouragement but still worried. And then she turned around, waiting, and Link felt a cold pebble of dread drop into his gut.
He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes, clearing his mind as he had done so many times that day already. His anxiety remained, fighting his will, and he turned his attention to his breath, willing the knot between his shoulders to dissipate with each exhale. When it was gone he was left with nothing.
He slipped his fingers into the small pouch Impa had given him, feeling the small, coarse grains shifting beneath his touch, stirring, almost alive. He heard them sizzle as they struck the ground and felt at once a rush of cold damp air penetrating deep into his lungs, into his soul, into his mind, the shadows of the old Hinox cell seeking to enclose him. So eerily similar to the shadows beneath ancient blackened limbs, the shadows that enclosed those ancient crumbling ruins -
Impa turned around then, and the feeling vanished. Link shivered, his mind whirling with the shadows' quick retreat, feeling cold sweat on his brow.
"You were close," she noted quietly, squinting at him. "But you're afraid, and your fear held you back."
"They come so quickly," Link said, his voice trembling against his will.
"Think of the deku powder like a magnet," Impa advised. "Wherever you are, there will be shadows. The shadows themselves will be – will feel – different, depending on where you are. I… I doubt the shadows here are a very pleasant first introduction to the spell, so I apologize for that, but I see no way around it. When you visit Kakariko, I hope it'll be a better experience." A small smile lifted the corners of her lips. "And I believe I now have full confidence in your ability to master this spell. That was a brilliant first attempt – you came so close; once you manage to release your fear you'll succeed. How… how do you feel, about that?"
Link swallowed with difficulty. "I don't know," he murmured. "The shadows of Thyphlo…" He shuddered, biting back a wince. "It's… difficult to shake those memories." He remembered his words to Zelda in Goron City, late at night after she awakened from one of her nightmares. I'm afraid of the dark, too.
Impa's brow creased thoughtfully. "I… I don't want to push you past your limits," she said slowly, carefully, chewing on each word. "However… I believe these skills are essential, and you certainly possess the potential to master them. Can you fight it? Rather, will you continue to fight it, as you have done all day thus far?"
Link nodded quickly, meeting her gaze. "I'll do my best," he promised gravely.
\-==/\==-/
"You're trying to get rid of this," his own voice whispered from the shadows. Link looked around, squinting into the thick, oppressive darkness of Thyphlo.
"You're not real," he muttered. "Just let me go so I can get back to sleep."
"I'm afraid that would be… impossible." Crimson eyes blinked open, only a few feet away. "Your Sheikah friend is right only on some accounts. Your battle training did, indeed, take place in the Illusory Realm. I stopped by there occasionally. 'Beware the monster within, don't smother the heart inside…' Remember that one?"
Link frowned, reaching for a sword at his belt and catching only empty air. "You're lying. This is the Illusory Realm! It looks the same, it feels the same, it feels just as real - but it's not. Let me out of here! I don't want to have these nightmares anymore!"
"This isn't the Illusory Realm," the shade insisted. "Search your memories - you know it's true. Or are you trying to tell me that Choice and Zelda were really with you that night so long ago?" He shook his head. "The Illusory Realm takes you through your memories, whereas what we experience now is… more fluid. Not solely bound by the basics of what happened to you. These are dreams, Link. And you can't stop them - the Goddesses speak to you through me, and they will not allow our communication to be interrupted."
Link's breath caught in his throat as his heart leapt up to his mouth. "The… the Goddesses? What… what do you mean?"
"Calm yourself; allow me to explain," his shadow hissed. The soft crunch of a booted foot coming down on the tangled forest floor, pine needles and dead leaves and grass, rustled up through the thick woodlands. Crimson eyes drew closer.
"Initially, it was all perfectly normal, considering your situation," the shade continued. "You had a highly traumatic experience, and at a cruelly young age. You saw things, heard things, did things, felt things that no toddler should ever have to bear. Naturally it would have been impossible for you to walk away unscathed - mentally or physically. Thus came the nightmares - a natural mental reaction to the horrors you faced, but no less cruel.
"The Goddesses and I did not involve ourselves until your Captain guided you into the Illusory Realm for the first time," the shadow went on, a twig snapping under his foot as he took another step forward. Link backed away, wary as a caged beast. "Your Sheikah friend told you that the Illusory Realm can provide insights, and she wasn't wrong. Many of the insights you gained helped you refine your fighting technique, hone your skills - and your soul - into a deadly weapon. This was not the Goddesses' plan for you. They did not want you to lock away your heart and become cruel and impassive, with no more feeling than the headsman's axe.
"Their solution was to send me. I would act as your guide, manipulating what you saw and faced in both your nightmares and the Illusory Realm in order to deliver the messages they needed you to receive. My sole purpose has always been to help you."
"That's ridiculous," Link snapped, taking half a step backwards, reaching blindly into the darkness for something he could use as a weapon. His hand brushed rough bark - a tree. And trees had branches, which he could fight with. Maybe.
"Is it?" his duplicate snarled. There was a faint glimmer of something sharp and shiny in the darkness, below his shadow's burning eyes - his teeth. He was grinning. "You can't see how I've been helping you, all this time? How these dreams have helped you realize your identity? Your role? Dare I say - your fate?"
Link's heart pounded, sending blood rushing loudly through his ears. He forced his mind blank, empty, fighting against the rising tide of memories. "It's not true," he protested. "You've killed me, over and over again - brutally! It's just as Impa said! It wasn't a victory all those years ago, so it's never a victory here! This is the Illusory Realm - and I can fight it and you!"
His shadow snorted, shaking his head. "Keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better. But that doesn't make it true. You're close to closing one avenue of communication, but this one shall remain open for as long as the Goddesses see fit."
"Why?" Link exclaimed, his voice cracking in desperation. "You - you torture me - these dreams torture me whenever I close my eyes! How could the Goddesses approve of something like this? Why would they do this to me?"
"You have not healed from what happened so long ago," the shade growled. "You never recovered. The monsters, the darkness, the forest… that all comes from you, not me, not the Goddesses. As a sculptor works with clay, so too do I work with what you see and feel in your nightmares and the Illusory Realm in order to get my messages across. It's been… an interesting test of creativity, to say the least.
"Wounds heal with time," his shadow continued, "but only if they are treated properly, given the care they need. You were grievously wounded in those ruins, even if there was hardly a scratch on your body. An ugly, gaping, jagged gash was opened in your very soul, and left to heal on its own. But a wound like that requires care and cannot properly recover without it. Because you weren't given that care - love, compassion, comfort - your wound did not heal. It closed, leaving behind a grotesque, painful scar liable to tear open at any moment. The agony you felt that night - the agony you still feel to this day - is what births the violence and anguish in your nightmares, and your training sessions in the Illusory Realm, closer to your actual memories of what happened, certainly did nothing to help."
Link struggled to swallow past the growing lump in his throat as his heart drummed rapidly against his ribcage, sending his toes and fingers pulsing. "You… you're saying that…" He gulped again, painfully, screwing his eyes shut in a grimace. "So I might be able to escape the Illusory Realm, choose to use my magic for something else, but these… these dreams… I can't get rid of them."
His shadow was silent. Link opened his eyes slowly, studying the creature in dread and hope. A soft breeze rattled through the branches above his head, carrying a bare whiff of smoke and the distant screech of a bokoblin.
The shadow's burning eyes were downcast, staring absently at the ground beneath Link's feet. Then, slowly, he raised his head to meet Link's gaze. "To heal the wound completely may be… impossible. But… you can learn to cope with the pain, and under the right circumstances you may discover how to escape the nightmares. For now, however… although it will be difficult, you must focus on the light in your life. Pay heed to what makes you feel safe. Comforted. Loved. Think of the dead with peace, and not grief."
The shadow's voice was soft as he spoke, filled with empathy and kindness. Link found himself touched, yet unnerved, by his compassion. "Who are you?" he asked quietly. "Why did the Goddesses send you?"
"I'm you," the shadow whispered. "In a manner of speaking, of course. We share many commonalities, but of course I lived long ago, in an age long past, nearly forgotten. As for why the Goddesses sent me… well, I asked them to."
Link squinted through the thick blackness, entirely befuddled. "That doesn't make any sense," he muttered. "You lived long ago - does that mean you were the last hero?"
Another glimmer of teeth. "Millions of people lived long ago - not just the hero you speak of," the shade grinned. "Know that not all answers provide understanding."
Link resisted the urge to roll his eyes. I know.
"I'll leave you to your rest, then," the shade sighed. "Maybe your nightmares will summon me again tonight. Maybe not. Nonetheless, I figured you needed to know that, though you are learning to control your access to the Illusory Realm, your dreams - your mind - is not so easily bridled."
Fallen leaves and grass rustled beneath the shadow's feet as he strode forward, but this time Link didn't back away. The shadow stopped no more than a foot away, his crimson eyes burning with unnatural light, and Link felt a firm hand grip his shoulder.
"Keep your chin up," he advised, with a foreboding note of warning in his voice. "It's always darkest before dawn."
Updated 7/8
