We got a long ass chapter today y'all. Hope you enjoy it! The actual story should make up for the length--a whopping 12,449 words! Longest I've posted so far--I hope you like it!
He'd recognize this field anywhere.
Overhead, the moon tracked through a cloudless sky, bright white and utterly strange to see. After weeks of seeing the horror of Termina's moon and becoming numb to it, now this one--this normal one--had somehow become the face to unnerve him.
Besides that, however, everything was as he remembered. The grass swayed underboot, the shadowy silhouette of the ranch standing black and dark in the distance, belying the light he knew was within. The nightbirds called, their lonely caws echoing over the wide fields. Hyrule Field.
He knew if he looked behind him, he'd see the long road to Kokiri Forest. His home, the home of his friends. Of Saria--the Sage of Forest.
Link didn't look behind him.
With a resolute breath, he headed for the other shadows, rising to the sky like teeth. The Castle. It would take him the last few hours until dawn to get there, he knew from experience. He set off, keeping his hand on his sword while the other dug into his bag. Retrieving the Bunny Hood, he put it on and his pace increased, his body filling with the energy to sustain the faster pace.
Link reached the castle drawbridge exactly at daybreak. It lowered at his feet, and as he crossed, he avoided eye contact with the guards. They all knew what had happened.
None of them dared look at him with the disdain and dislike they surely felt, but Link knew what they thought of him. Hero of Time or not.
Grinding his teeth, he rushed through the town, passing the lady and her dog, Honey and Darling spinning as they always were. He caught snippets of gossip as he went.
"Apparently the execution was scheduled for next week," a townsman murmured to his friend, standing at a stall. Link looked up and saw it was the Happy Mask Shop. He stifled a grimace.
"Hopefully they do with him quickly," the woman responded, looking around the town as if mentioning ganondorf would summon him.
"Well, that's the thing," the man said. "They moved the execution up. And listen to this."
He leaned close, having garnered the attention of the others at the stall. "I heard from one of the knights at the site. He said the execution fai--"
A horrid screech rent the air, and out of pure instinct Link whipped out his sword. He whirled around, but there was no monster, no--
The dog. It was dripping in water, soaked to the bone. Its owner was wailing, kneeling next to it as the animal shook itself. "My prize dog," she cried. "Who did this to you?!"
Rolling his eyes, Link sheathed his sword and headed up the steps before anyone could identify him. As he went, however, and as he had traversed the town, there were more guards about. They'd even doubled it at the drawbridge. They were tense, clear in the stiffness of their shoulders and white-knuckled grip on their spears. Something had happened.
The man's words at the mask shop rang in Link's ears as he climbed the road to the castle. His face had been full of nervous excitement--fear hidden behind fake glee. And the execution--why had they moved it up? Ganondorf could have used his power to provoke them, or they could have just wanted to dispose of him quickly. But then the man had said something else about it, something Link had missed because of that damned dog.
Something happened.
Enough to make the King of Hyrule double security at the drawbridge, and triple it along the road to the castle. The guards eyed Link closely, recognizing him but paying him no real heed. Link passed through the gates without a word, too absorbed in his line of thinking to notice the way their eyes followed him.
He managed to keep a steady pace until he got to the top of the hill. His plan to sneak in was a bust, then. Unless . . .
I could climb the far side of the fence, Link thought, his eyes turning to where he'd found Talon sleeping, all that time ago. The guards never guard it--first because they simply didn't know, then because they didn't care. I was the only one who ever used it, anyway.
Would that have changed now? He hoped not. He needed to speak with Zelda, and having that path blocked would be a pain.
One way to find out, Link thought, and cut through the grounds. His tunic helped him blend in with the grass, and he made it over to the fence without a problem. Hauling himself over was easy enough with his hookshot, and then back into the drain and through to the other side. The gardens, though, were a different matter.
They were flooded with guards. Easily three times as many as usual, and they were much more vigilant.
Stifling an annoyed sigh, Link dug into his bag, hidden behind a hedge, and retrieved the Stone Mask. Slipping the Bunny Hood back inside, he put on the Stone Mask and stepped out from the hedge.
For a moment he doubted if it would even work outside of Termina, but the Bunny hood had worked, so he let it go. And sure enough, he stepped right into the path of an oncoming soldier, whose gaze burned right through Link as if he wasn't even there.
Link ducked quietly out of his way and continued on, dodging guards stealthily until he came to the corner. Beyond here was Zelda's Garden, and with a breath, Link stepped inside and removed the mask.
No shouts from behind sounded, but no movement came from Zelda ahead, either.
Because she wasn't there.
Groaning aloud now, Link shoved the mask back on and bolted from the garden. I should have known she'd know. Of course she'd know.Within minutes he was out of the castle grounds and was running down the slope, his mind a dozen steps ahead of his body.
Even after just two years, Zelda's abilities with her Triforce had advanced far more quickly than anyone had anticipated. She'd been able to sense evil intentions at ten years old, without practice. With training from Impa, she'd grown to be able to sense when another Triforce piece was close by, even being able to decipher what Link himself was feeling.
Not that it had done either of them any good.
He dashed past the guards at the gate and whirled around the bend, nearly slipping on the loose stone. Racing around the turn in the town and up the stairs, the Gossip Stones were a mere blur of gray, and then he was climbing the Temple's steps and bursting through the door.
Link bent over, breathing hard. He reached up and pulled off his hat, revealing Tatl, who shook herself with a slight tinkling. She looked at him, and he imagined she raised a brow. "You should have worn the Bunny Hood."
Link didn't look up, to her vast annoyance. "I know," he panted, and then straightened. The Temple was empty, and he ran a hand through his hair out of habit. He'd done it a lot as an adult, a result of frustratedly ripping his hat off when stuck in the dungeons.
He walked up to the dais with the Spiritual Stones, still spinning gently in their places. He couldn't help a flash of disappointment. He'd thought she would be here.
But then, he thought, and his mood soured, if she had indeed sensed he was approaching, then why would she bother coming to meet him? She remembered what he'd said as surely as he did, and that was enough to make Link hate himself. There was no reason she would have waited around for him.
That was enough for crushing remorse to settle on his chest. He took a breath, released it, looked around one last time. And his hand tingled.
A small smile pulled at Link's mouth. What was it Gaepora had said? Link dug in his bag again, retrieving the Lens. "Sometimes the truth is buried."
He put the Lens to his eye and looked through--and sure enough, there they were. Tendrils of magic power, unique, belonging to only one person. He followed them to the dais, weaving around each of the stones before continuing--
To the Door of Time.
Link cocked his head, remembering what Hazen had said of his journey. Well, here stood the Doors, as immobile as any massive slab of rock could be. Clearly, something changed in the future.
The weaving magic curled into the room beyond, blocked from view by the Doors. But she wasn't there.
Link humored her, his heart pounding, and raised the Ocarina of Time to his lips.
The song played the same as always, though this time it seemed to carry so much more. As the last note faded into the stark Temple's air, a great grinding sounded, and the Doors began to open.
Beyond them, her magic wavered everywhere in threads, drifting around the room in lazy currents. Link followed their direction, knowing Zelda well enough to recognize her cues. He climbed the steps up to the Pedestal of Time, staring down at the blade that had wrought so much chaos, so much peace.
So he was to pull it again? Was that it? Link tried not to glare at the blade, the dust motes floating lazily around the purple hilt, as pristine as the day it had been crafted. He remembered what had happened the last time he'd pulled this sword. Ganondorf had taken over the world, the Sacred Realm left exposed to his devices, and Link had had to clean it all up, in addition to actually defeating Ganondorf.
What would happen this time? Would he only sleep for three years instead of seven? Five? One?
The threads wove tighter together, curling around his hand and the hilt, and Link realized he'd gripped the blade. He hadn't even felt himself move. Around him, the magic seemed to increase, somehow, projecting a message without doing anything more than undulating.
Hurry.
Gods damn it all to the Dark Realm, Link thought. He gripped the hilt with both hands and pulled.
He'd expected the bright flash of light. What he hadn't expected, however, was the way his legs crumpled beneath him, and the sudden rush of nausea.
He fell to his knees and vomited, right there on the stones. This did not happen the first time, Link thought, spitting. He wiped his mouth, groaning. Trying to stand resulted in an embarrassing amount of almost falling right back down, but once he found his footing and kept it, he managed a look around.
"What was that?" he croaked, knowing she was listening.
He heard her before he saw her. Soft footsteps, only audible because she wanted them to be, and her voice--as melodic as when he'd first heard it, when she'd smiled at him in the ruins of that tower.
She appeared a second later, not trying to be a "proper lady". Of course she wasn't. She wore naught but a nightgown, the pure white silk hugging her curves the way her day gowns never could. At least she wore a wrap, sheer and lace though it may have been. "That," she said, "was called 'growing up'. I thought it would be best if we were our adult selves for this."
Her unspoken words may as well have been shouted from the castle's tallest tower. And perhaps we will be more inclined towards mutual respect.
That stung. The look in her eyes, blue as Lake Hylia. Link was as tongue-tied before her as he always was. He ran over what he wanted to say, decided none of it was enough, and opened his mouth. But Zelda shook her head.
"We both said things we shouldn't have," she said, softly. Link nodded, too afraid to speak. "We," Zelda continued, approaching, "were young. Children."
"Are we not still?" Link croaked, before he could stop himself.
Zelda's lips twitched. "Do I look to be a child to you?" she asked innocently.
Oh damn. Link cleared his throat. "No," he whispered, voice hoarse.
He was still taller than her. And his tunic had grown with him again. He checked his bag quickly to make sure everything remained, and lifted his head.
Sensing he wouldn't cooperate until she elaborated, Zelda rolled her eyes. "I aged us up."
"Us?"
"The town," she said. "The process triggered by pulling the Master Sword usually takes much longer to achieve, but we do not have time. So I intervened."
She raised a brow, but Link ignored it. "What about the villagers?" he asked.
"The past five years will be no more than a blur in their memories," Zelda said, coming closer. "They will not know anything is amiss. I could only restrict the effect over Castle Town and the Castle, but this will not damage anything."
"How is that possible?" Link asked, despite himself.
Patience, he reflected, had always been one of Zelda's most outstanding virtues. She calmly answered him, brushing her fingers over the hilt of the Master Sword. "Time is like a river," she said, looking up at the surrounding white stone walls of the Temple. "Constantly flowing and moving. And the Master Sword is a ship with which you can sail that river."
Zelda stepped forward, gesturing to their surroundings. "Therefore, this Temple is a port stop along the way. A place to reflect upon the past, future and present, and to decide where to go next."
She turned to Link. "With the Ocarina of Time and the Master Sword, one becomes the Master of Time itself. Able to control its flow, with the trust of the Sword and the power of the world at their fingertips, one stands as a pillar of change. What they choose to do with that incredible strength is up to them."
So he could control time. He remembered her saying something to that effect, back when he was still clearing the temples.
Zelda was looking at him. "I don't know where you've been," she said quietly. "But I can sense that you are ill at ease. And I know it's not entirely because of me."
Oh, damn. Link shifted, feeling the sword on his back shift with him. "It wasn't your fault. I was out of line."
He hadn't heard his adult voice in a while. It sounded strange, but Zelda merely blinked. "You cannot be serious."
Link shrugged, uncomfortable. Zelda stared at him.
"Link."
He didn't look at her.
"Link."
Don't look. Don't look. Even though she's using her princess voice.
Which had gained a level of incredulity to it. "I sent you away. I banished you."
"Technically, you said I was free to leave if I hated it here so much," Link said tightly. "And I did. Therefore, I win."
Zelda scoffed. She grabbed his arm in a bid to make him look at her, and it only half-worked. "I should not have said that. Banishing the Hero of Time--"
"But I wasn't the hero," Link interrupted, pulling away. Her touch made his pulse race. "You were yelling at your friend who used you like a training dummy, and you were right to do so."
"I called you a failure of a hero. I said your title did not give you the right to sulk and mope around and treat people how you felt."
"Like shit," Link agreed, shame filling him.
"Like shit," Zelda said. "Link, look at me."
Against his better judgement, he did. And he regretted it immediately.
Her eyes stared into him, and she was close--close enough for him to see the creases in her pink lips, the fine golden hair that drifted in the air, escaping the plait she tied it into, to smell her perfume, faded from the passing hours, leaving just a bare whiff behind. Link swallowed.
Her eyes flicked down to track the movement. "You are not allowed to feel sorry for what happened," she said, and her voice was different this close. "You did nothing wrong. And though I do not know where you've been, or what you've been doing, I came here to tell you that I am sorry . . . and I'm with you. My help is yours, if you'll have it."
Had she honestly expected him to refuse? Link couldn't help a disbelieving huff of laughter, and she squinted up at him, blue eyes sparkling like the Zora's Sapphire. Link felt himself go still, stiffening in a way that had nothing to do with fear or battle, and was struck with an insane, wildly tempting idea.
No. Bad Link. You have a job to do--and she's the princess.
His old mantra came back with crushing force. Link stepped back, ignoring the flash of grief in Zelda's eyes, and cleared his throat. Why was it so dry? "Then," he said hoarsely, "I should tell you what's happened."
If patience was her best virtue, then going with the flow was her second best. Zelda took a small breath, clasped her hands, and nodded.
It took a while, even with Link shortening it. And he'd grown distracted, an idea growing in his head even as he spoke. It was risky, slightly crazy, and he doubted if it would even work.
"Princess," he said now. "You said before that time was a stream."
Zelda nodded. Link took a deep breath. "What would happen if someone were to travel that stream?"
She blinked. He explained himself, and when he was done, Zelda looked thoughtful. Her eyes were narrowed, and if he looked hard enough Link could almost see the gears in her head turning.
Surely her, he thought. Surely, if anyone, Zelda--the Sage of Time--could make it work. She'd find a workaround.
After several long moments, she raised her head. "I have an idea."
Irene shifted on the couch.
She wanted to read more. The book lay on top of a stack of others, right on the table across from the couch, and her fingers twitched.
She'd just gone back to sleep a few hours ago, but had only managed catnaps. She shifted again, her nightgown sliding along her legs. It felt absolutely weird to wear it, and even though it was one of the less frivolous ones, she still felt distinctly uncomfortable in anything other than robes and pants.
At least I don't have to wear dresses anymore, she thought. And she'd even been able to pick out what she wanted her clothes to be made of. Silk, satin, cotton, velvet. Chiffon, fleece taffeta, muslin and brocade, even cashmere. And still more she hadn't remembered. The one she wore was among her favorites. Alana had crafted it of deep blue silk, birds in pale spring sitting on branches stitched on the fabric, and it wasn't even that low cut.
The books taunted her again, sitting innocuous on her table, and she sighed deeply, resisting the urge to get up. The back of her neck itched, and she turned her head to scratch it. Maybe just one more chapter? She'd gotten to a section about ancient Twilight mages and their abilities to manipulate shadows.
She should be able to try it, but she wasn't sure if she was at the power level necessary for advanced magic like that. Irene reached a hand back to itch again, her brows furrowing. Maybe it wasn't so much power level but more an aptitude for it? She was able to manipulate light, that was clear. And the other elements had never posed a real challenge. So then shadow shouldn't be very difficult either.
Have I been bitten by something? Irene sat up with a scowl, itching her neck. Something had definitely bitten her, but there was no wound, no bump. So then--
Something flashed in her mind—a series of images so quick she'd barely seen it, but it left her gasping on the couch, staring at her closed door. Zelda . . . ?
She'd seen the queen . . . covered in blood. Screaming. Kneeling in a razed, gray courtyard, bodies surrounding her.
Cold sweat blazed a path down Irene's back. She swallowed, her heart racing, and rose from the couch. She grabbed her robe and slung it around herself, a white thing of lace and more silk, and left her rooms, traveling the hall with a small orb of light. She'd decided to call it a witchlight.
It cast the halls in a faint light as she hurried, heading for Zelda's wing. She made it outside, crossed under the overhang and to the courtyard where she knew Zelda's rooms to be built into the side of, and headed for the bit of wall.
Before she got there, though, she noticed someone was exiting. Zelda.
Irene stopped short, unsure. Zelda walked slowly, her guards nowhere to be seen, and headed for the edge of the cliff. Her shoulders rose shakily, and then fell.
Gathering her courage, Irene approached slowly. Zelda was obviously on edge, though Irene wasn't sure why. She made it to the cliff, and the only sign that Zelda sensed her was a quick jerk of the head. She faced forward quickly, and even before Irene had thought of something to say, she was speaking.
"Apologies. I didn't mean to wake you."
"Wake me?"
Zelda managed a weak laugh, wrapping her shawl closer around her. "I seem to keep half the castle up at night. Not even Link can calm me anymore."
Irene was lost. "I . . . were you--"
Zelda's face was pale. Her eyes had shadows sitting beneath them, and it seemed even their bright blue color, usually so sharp, was dulled. Like a blade that's seen too much battle. And suddenly Irene knew what happened.
"You were having nightmares." Her voice was quiet.
Zelda managed a tiny, wan smile. "I seem to have little else these days," she said hoarsely. She breathed in deep, her chest hitching. "I had nightmares a lot during the war. They would come and go in the years after, but when something happens, they return."
Like Nayra's attack. Hazen had told Irene about that in a quiet voice, his eyes reflecting the fire. Irene hadn't known what to say then, and didn't now. But Zelda wasn't done.
"Now, with my first son gone, and that . . . that thing being responsible, I . . ." Her voice shook, and she sucked in a breath. Her eyes stared out over Hyrule Field, over Castle Town, and came to rest in the Fountain Square. That scene flashed in Irene's mind, and suddenly she realized that the broken courtyard she'd seen was right below her--Fountain Square.
"I feel I can trust you, Irene," Zelda said quietly. "It is in light of that feeling that I tell you this now."
She turned to Irene. "When I . . . when I fought Ganondorf," she started, and Irene thought she choked up a bit on the word 'fought', "I was willing to give everything I had. Everything I was. I made that choice for myself, because I thought if it took Ganondorf from this world, then at least that was something. At least . . . others could live. Even if I didn't."
She waited, waited for Irene's lips to part, for her eyes to light in terrible, horrifying understanding. They filled with tears, and the breath she took was feeble, trembling, like a leaf in autumn wind. Broken cobblestone. Blood soaking the stone, her clothes, her face. The screaming--"Please! Just end it."Bodies littering the ground, tucked into the snow like white graves.
Zelda nodded slightly. "After, I thought about how much I had truly been willing to sacrifice. What I almost had sacrificed. I thought about any possible children, about Link, my friends, dead and alive. I thought about it a lot. And when Hazen was born, I . . . I thought perhaps, now, I had finally escaped. Perhaps now, I was free from him."
She laughed, lowering her head in an act of self-deprecation, her eyes haunted. "I see now how foolish that was. Ganondorf clearly knew he would live on as long as I did, as long as I carried that scar on my chest. And I see now that he had much more going on during his life, and how blind I had been."
"He is tearing this family apart from the grave, and all I can do is place my hopes on another," Zelda whispered, eyes wide and full of regret and fear. "I am helpless before him, as much so now as I was eighteen years ago. I cannot escape him."
A tear tracked down her face, and Irene closed her eyes tight, trying to think of something, anything, to say to this woman. She remembered what Hazen had told her, that last night before chaos descended. Yet another person Ganondorf has taken from her.What could she do? Was there anything? Was there something Irene could do to . . . to lighten the burden on Zelda? Some way to help, even if it wouldn't take the burden entirely . . .
She turned to the queen, who was now staring out at the brightly lit town below, and said, her voice soft, "Perhaps I can help."
Zelda turned to her, disbelief on her face, but Irene said quickly, "It may not help at all, or it might. But . . . there was something I read in those books. There's a, um, a spell that I can do. As long as you are willing."
Zelda was lost. "A spell? What--"
"A mind transfer . . . sort of," Irene admitted. "The Ancient Twili called it an empathy link. It allows people to share thoughts, feelings, even memories."
She watched as her meaning sank in. Zelda's eyes widened slightly, and she took a breath. She pressed her lips together tightly, and reached out to take Irene's hand.
"I appreciate your concern. But these are not memories visited lightly. I would not burden one so young with their weight."
"Then will you carry them forever?" Irene asked softly. Zelda looked at her, surprised.
Irene stretched her legs out over the cliff. "When my parents died," she said, "I didn't tell anyone for a long time. It was unhealthy. I barely ate, I couldn't sleep at all some nights, and I felt . . ."
Breathing became difficult, like it always did when she talked about her parents. But she'd told Gram, years ago, and then Link, and just recently she'd told Hazen. She'd cried all those times, but with each telling, it had gotten a tiny bit easier. In the beginning, having someone to lean on, to know her trauma, had seemed debilitating. Humiliating. She couldn't stand being vulnerable like that. But the moment she spilled it all, every selfish thought in her mind and every wish never spoken aloud, she'd begged, cried, needed someone to share it with, needed it with every vein in her body. Gram had held her the whole time, rocking them on the floor until Irene's cries had been shushed, hours later. So now, she swallowed hard and breathed deep.
"I felt like I was being crushed," she said, looking at the queen. "I felt like there was this weight on my chest, squeezing my heart, my lungs, my stomach. Every time I thought about them."
"People can't live like this," she said, and now she looked out at the fields. "With trauma. It's more dangerous than blades or battles. It's a battle all its own, but one we have to fight all the time, or else it wins, and we're suffocated."
Zelda was quiet, and when she spoke, her voice had the stiffness to it that said she was holding back tears with everything she had. "And when do we win that war?"
Irene had considered that for a long time. And the truth was that she didn't have an answer. But she didn't want to leave the queen hanging on such a ledge, so she said the first thing that came to mind.
"When you trust people, I suppose."
She was looking down, and so didn't see Zelda's glance, nor the knowing smile she wore. "I suppose so."
They sat there for a while more, Irene's offer settling between them like dust. Irene herself was ruminating about her answer. It was quick, almost thoughtless in its simplicity. But the more she thought about it, the more she found it to be true. And there was only one person that could have made it so, because she hadn't had anything close to an answer just a year ago. Or a few months ago, for that matter.
She breathed through her nose, swinging her legs idly over the edge. She wondered if he even knew. Probably not. He was a mess whenever they came within inches of one another--just like her. He was smart, but she'd only told him about her parents briefly, and then Majora . . .
She sighed. Zelda huffed a small laugh. "Get some sleep, Irene. Do not concern yourself with the demons of the past." She looked forward again, towards a cluster of lights miles away in the Fields miles away. "Only those of the present."
Irene woke the next morning late.
Swearing, she leapt out of bed and yanked on her clothes. Grabbing her cloak, she ran out of her room, finding no guards at her door.
"That's strange," Irene muttered. She headed down the hall, keeping her cloak at her side. It was warm today. Exiting the castle grounds, she came out to the courtyard. There were some soldiers about, and she approached one group. "Excuse me. Do you know where the Empress is?"
The soldier pointed towards the east. "There was an earthquake out by Kakariko Village. A section of the Gorge collapsed. She's gone to make sure the village and farmland wasn't damaged. Would you like an escort?"
Irene blinked. "I--Is that all right?"
The soldiers nodded. "I will arrange one for you. My name is Captain Russell. Please follow me."
Only slightly uncomfortable, Irene followed them to the First Gatehouse. There were many more soldiers here, and the leader of her group went to gather horses. The others stayed with Irene, in suffocating silence.
She could feel their nervousness, curiosity, awkwardness. She breathed in deep, and watched Captain Russell negotiate with the soldiers at the Gatehouse.
"Can you really control time?"
Irene jumped. She looked at the soldier who'd spoken, a young boy. The one next to him, smacked the back of his head, pushing it down into a bow. "Sorry, Miss, he's still learning protocol," he said, smiling apologetically.
Irene smiled back. "Oh, i-it's okay. I don't mind."
The soldiers exchanged glances, letting the younger one lift his head. "Then . . . would you mind telling us about your power? My lady," he added quickly.
Irene nodded. "Well, I can--"
"What is this? Are they bothering you, Miss?"
Captain Russell was back. Irene shook her head, unconsciously standing in front of the soldiers. "No, no, they're not! They were just asking me about my power."
Russell noted the move with a glance. "Nevertheless, it is not their place to ask a lady questions."
Irene felt the urge to defend them, but held her tongue. The soldiers behind her bowed low, apologizing. She reluctantly stepped away from them, and though the captain likely noted the look of discomfort on her face, he didn't comment.
She mounted the horse he handed her and they set off. Irene wished she'd worn her cloak after all, to avoid the stares of the people in the city, but they rode fast, and soon the walls of Castle Town were behind her, and the fields of Hyrule were before her.
She sighed. She'd missed this, more than she realized. The wind in her unbound hair, nothing but nature around her . . .
A great cracking sound was her only warning.
Then the ground trembled beneath her horse, and it reared, crow hopping nervously. Irene tried soothing it, her hand glowing, but it wasn't working. Her horse threw her, and she tumbled to the ground.
"My lady Irene!"
Hands pulled her up, pulling her away from--
"Goddesses," she whispered.
A crack in the ground widened, clumps of dirt and grass falling into it and disappearing. Irene and the younger guard who'd pulled her away stared, then they scrambled backward. Then Russell was there. "Mount up, now," he ordered, and, trembling, Irene did so. They'd gotten the horses again, and with a hard slap from Russell, Irene's horse bolted away. The other two guards were behind her, and when she looked back, Russell was riding in the opposite direction.
"He's going to report to the king!" the other guards shouted, over the rumbling and wind.
They rode as if being chased by demons. Irene's hair slapped her face, but she hardly felt it. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she stared at the ground as if another crack would open up right beneath her and swallow her up, horse and all.
She shut her eyes tight. Stop that, she told herself. That won't happen.
The ride to the Gorge was silent and filled with tension. The quakes must be getting worse, Irene thought. Or maybe that was an aftershock of the first one?
If that's an aftershock, what had the actual quake done?
When they reached the Gorge and Kakariko Village, it was midday. The guards asked after the Empress immediately. The leader of the village answered, a grave expression on his face.
"She's at Volvagia's Landing," Darbus said, and then they were off. Two Sheikah shadows accompanied them, noticeable only by the flash of their sword hilts in the sun.
Volvagia's Landing, Irene learned, was an old castle used in the first Alliance by a Hylian General by the name of Volga. During the course of the war, Ganondorf had sent in a shadow to seduce the general with promises of power and glory. The general had succumbed, betraying the ancient Princess and Hero. With Ganondorf's dark power, Volga had transformed into a dragon named Volvagia, laying waste to Hyrule's armies until the Princess and Hero had come, at the behest of the dragon's taunting. It had all culminated in a massive battle at the foot of the castle, and had ended with the Hero slaying the dragon.
From what Irene had read, the hero had been close friends with the Dragon General. When he died, he'd been transformed back into a Hylian, and had been given a proper Hylian funeral as opposed to a simple burning, like most of the dead had received.
Now, Irene sat on her horse at the foot of the castle, fields spreading out to meet the foothills. She looked down the path that wound into the Gorge, cast in shadow by the midday sun.
She dismounted and entered the castle's grounds. It was built on a hill, rising above the flat fields before it. The gates were heavy oak wood, reinforced with steel, and above them, ramparts wound around the top, forming battlements. Soldiers ran back and forth, carrying spears and crates, and the noise from within the fortress was audible even before the gates were opened.
Irene stepped inside the fort, looking around. She stood in a wide open space, and ahead, another pair of grand doors led inside the castle. These doors were emblazoned with a shining gold dragon, plumes of red and orange fire puffing out from its long, winding body, and all around, the Empire's banners hung, flowing in the warm wind.
Soldiers were running all over here, too, and Irene followed some of them to the top of the battlements, listening in on their conversation. " . . . all reports directly to Empress Zelda. When Captain Viscen returns, have their horses fed and watered and prepare new steeds. Make sure Sanidin is prepared, as well. The Empress will likely want to see the damage for herself."
The soldiers dashed off, shouting orders to someone else, and the officer who'd sent him off finally noticed Irene. His eyes narrowed, and his voice was sharp when he barked, "Who are you, young miss? How did you get inside this castle?"
"Sir!" The young soldier who'd ridden there with Irene spoke up, saluting smartly. "She was granted an escort by Captain Russell! She is here to meet with the Empress Zelda."
Viscen acknowledged the salute and the words with the barest of nods. "And who is she to demand an audience with the Empress?"
"Someone who is vital to finding her son," a familiar voice said, and Irene shaded her eyes to look up. Zelda descended from the higher rampart by a small set of stairs, set into the wall behind Viscen.
The captain and young soldier saluted again, bowing their heads. "Thank you, Captain Viscen," Zelda said, nodding to the captain. "And you, Sir Gallus. I will take charge of Miss Irene from here."
She made to turn, but hesitated, causing the two soldiers who'd begun to relax stiffen back into position again. She cocked her head at the young one--Sir Gallus. A strange expression pulled at her face.
"You're Commander Groose's son, correct?"
Sir Gallus nodded. Irene thought he stood a little taller at Zelda's recognition, and pushed down a bit of confusion. Zelda must have known his father, clearly. Was this Commander Groose still in service? Was he stationed at this castle?
But Zelda's eyes gained a definite edge of sadness. "Your father was a brave man, from when I knew him. He gave his life for the safety of the empire, and for that of his family. He is held in high regard in my own."
Oh. Sir Gallus's eyes stared forward, even as his fist, pressed to his heart, shook. "Thank you, Your Majesty. That truly means a lot."
His voice trembled. Zelda smiled. "Thank you for delivering Miss Irene here safely. Your father would be proud."
Now Sir Gallus smiled a bit in return, and he seemed to allow a bit more feeling in his words. "Thank you, Your Majesty."
"Off with you, then."
He bowed and rushed off. Viscen watched him go, then turned to Zelda. "Then I shall leave this girl in your care, Your Majesty."
"Very well."
The captain bowed and left. Zelda jerked her head at Irene, stepping back up to the top of the rampart, and Irene hurriedly joined her.
"The quake was four hours ago, no activity since," Zelda said, all business.
"What was it?"
Zelda didn't answer. Instead, she reached out a hand and pointed to the western-facing wall of the Gorge.
Goddesses.
Irene looked away, her body fighting off the wave of fear that always rose up when she saw it. "Majora," she ground out, lifting her face again.
The mask's likeness was burned into the side of the Gorge, as if someone had covered it in charcoal and slammed it into the wall. The lines were black and almost jagged. It looked as if it was burned into the stone.
Zelda's jaw was working. "If he's here, then we are much shorter on time than I thought. We need to begin preparing. I've sent a message to Lorule and Twilight to double their pace. The Hylian Army is galvanizing as we speak, but--Irene?"
Irene didn't answer--she was staring at that imprint, eyes wide. "How is it here?" she whispered. Then, louder-- "How--how can it do this kind of damage? This has never happened before. And how--"
She cursed. It wasn't such a surprise that Majora was here. The surprise was that it had caused actual, geological damage to Hyrule. That had never happened before. It had only ever controlled fire, and even then, on this level . . .
No. There was something else at play here. Something . . . something she had read . . . there had to be someth--
Irene gasped.
Zelda grabbed her arm. "Irene. Tell me what happened now."
Irene seized her hands and pulled her to the other side of the rampart, around the back of the castle. From there, they could see the black crack in the earth, carving a path through the field and into the Gorge's entrance.
"Time has been slowly but surely fracturing for months now," she started, hardly able to keep her thoughts in order. "Ever since Majora first left its time, since it left Termina, the timestream has been steadily deteriorating. With every jump Majora--and Hazen, Tessen, Saval and I made--it made time break down even more. With nothing to fill the spaces we left, time and space began to eat away at themselves."
"But we already knew that was happening," Zelda said, and then seemed to sense that something worse was coming.
Irene nodded. "I know. And to be honest, we almost forgot about it. But now, this," she pulled Zelda to the edge, pointing to the crack, "this is proof that it's in its last stages. The timestream is falling apart at the seams," she insisted. "The fact that Majora can now attack--and cause geological damage--is a sign that we're running out of time. Literally."
"How do you know that one is a result of the other?" Zelda asked, somehow keeping her calm.
"The books I was reading described something the ancient white witches called 'lapsing'," Irene said. "It's a phenomenon only ever suggested--it's not proven. Or it wasn't. It's an effect of realities, entire worlds, slipping together. The clear lines that kept them separate from one another are blurring--disappearing altogether."
"And those lines are time," Zelda clarified.
"Yes. When everything was in its proper place, time was stable, and the worlds were held in balance. But now time is collapsing, and worlds are beginning to lapse together. The powers that Majora had only in Termina--like making the Moon fall, sending snowstorms, causing earthquakes--"
Zelda's eyes narrowed.
"--those powers are now bleeding through the lines of time and space, and affecting other worlds--like this one," Irene finished. "And if it's already bleeding through this far down the timestream, who knows what kind of damage it's done to the previous eras."
"Then we truly have no time," Zelda hissed. She ripped herself away from the rampart and stomped down the stairs, with Irene following her.
"We need to try and get the Doors working again."
"I don't think that will work," Irene called. She followed Zelda along the battlements, pushing through soldiers and shouting over the noise. "The Doors only ever worked in a fixed location, and only when there was a corresponding place at the other end. That's why they never appeared in Termina the way they did in Hyrule."
"Then what do you suggest?" Zelda demanded over her shoulder. She headed for the stairs, but she didn't get far.
"We need to open a po--"
The entire ground beneath them shook, and the sound of a mountain splitting apart made Irene clap her hands over her ears. She fell back against the battlement, seeing Zelda steady herself on the stone. Her knuckles were white.
Irene dragged herself up, nearly pitching over the side as the ground heaved again. "What's going on?" she shouted.
Zelda didn't answer, but her eyes were wide and fixed in the fields somewhere, so Irene followed her gaze and nearly fell over.
A black scar wove its way through the green fields, slowly but surely heading for the castle. The grass and dirt on the edges fell away first into darkness--and then into a red glow. And as they watched, glowing white arms sprang from the ground.
Zelda swore foully and seized Irene's hand. "Prepare for battle!" she roared, her voice carrying over the shouting panic. "Archers, line the ramparts! Swordsmen, with me! Captain Viscen!"
The captain was surrounded by soldiers--some seasoned veterans, some young, fresh soldiers. Irene felt her heart beating, slamming against her ribcage as Viscen barked out orders, his face hard and unyielding. The men and women around him ran off, and he damn near snarled when Zelda grabbed his arm. She hardly noticed.
"Captain, you are the Field Commander for this battle," she ordered, and though Irene had a vague idea what that meant, Viscen saluted smartly. "Yes, Your Majesty."
He didn't ask, but Zelda told him anyway, "Irene and I will take the vanguard. Keep them off us, Captain."
Keep what off us? Irene thought.
Zelda didn't wait for his reply before dashing into the castle interior. It was mayhem, just as much as outside or on the ramparts, but Zelda strode right to the table where some young soldiers were sharpening their swords, their movements shaky and their eyes staring hard at the blades.
"Sir Gallus, I have a command for you," Zelda said, and the young soldiers shot to his feet. "Y-yes, Your Majesty?"
"Ride to Hyrule Castle and notify the King and Commander Impa of the situation here," Zelda ordered. "Ride hard and do not look back. It is imperative they receive this message, is that clear? Enter the castle and go straight to the King or the Commander. Take this as proof of your mission."
She unclasped the brooch from her uniform and pressed it into Gallus's hands. He stared at it, at her, for a mere second. Then he stood straight up. "I will not fail you, Empress!"
He dashed off, and Zelda hardly waited before seizing Irene's wrist again and dragging her away. This time she led them to the outside again, but instead of heading for the gates, which were now open, letting through streams of armored knights and soldiers, she brought them to the stables. Zelda took her own stallion from the stable and then took out a rich brown mare, its saddle embroidered with blue, gold and red thread.
"Mount up," Zelda ordered, and Irene shakily did so. "What are we doing?"
"We are going to the front lines," Zelda answered, finally looking at Irene. "We will fight this thing head-on, however we can."
Irene stared at her, struck by several things at once. How she could be so calm in the middle of an out-of-nowhere attack. How she commanded others with such unflinching authority, such powerful personage. How much she was like her son in that way.
And how afraid Irene herself was. What if she couldn't do anything? What if she couldn't do what was expected of her? What if she could? She'd been practising every kind of magic she could get her hands on--from elemental to time and space magic itself. But--but what if she failed?
"You must not fail," Zelda said, and it took Irene a moment to realize she'd spoken aloud. She looked at Zelda, who was facing forward, watching the soldiers form a phalanx within the castle's open ground. She turned her blue eyes, sharp as a razor, to Irene. "We must not fail. We are their first and last defense, do you understand? We must succeed."
And somehow it was just that simple. Irene faced forward, feeling her magic rise up in her, and closed her eyes. Yes. We will succeed.I will make sure of it.
"Forward march!" Zelda shouted from beside her, and Irene opened her eyes. The phalanx moved forward, exiting the castle, and parted in the center to allow Zelda and Irene to pass through to the front.
From there, Zelda drew her sword. They could see the skeleton monsters coming in fast, spreading out from the rip in the earth like a white, bleached wave, and as Zedla raised and then lowered her blade, a sea of glinting steel descended on the wave.
Some fell. Not enough. Zelda held her position, Irene set her hands aglow, and she could hear the soldiers behind begin to murmur. She breathed deep as Zelda said, "Hold steady."
Irene counted the beats. Another wave of steel flew overhead, more monsters fell, and it seemed her heart slowed with her breathing, and sound became muted, almost.
"Charge!"
A roar like nothing she'd ever heard sent her horse into motion, and Irene's eyes flew open to see surging green fields beneath her. She raised her head, and there was the enemy--
--flying past her. "Stay on me!" Zelda shouted, and Irene just had time to raise her head before a wave of power blew out from the Empress, such that it nearly knocked Irene from her saddle. And the queen hadn't lifted a finger.
All around them, the skeletons froze, as if held by some invisible force--The Sage of Time. Irene galloped past them all, ignored the sounds of shouting and swords cutting through bone, striking against steel, puncturing flesh--
She bowed her head over the saddle, breathing in the smell of the horse beneath her, and tried to block it out. This is war, she told herself. And you have a job to do.
So she raised her head, and saw Zelda waving her over. They'd reached the gouge in the earth. Irene dismounted alongside Zelda and sent her horse away, as the empress had done. "Now what?"
"Now we stop it," Zelda said, peering over the edge. The red glow--the lava, Irene noted with a swallow--had risen much faster than they'd anticipated. It was almost at the edge now, its heat nearly burning her face.
"I'll keep the monsters off you," Zelda said. "But I need you to close up the rift."
"Close the . . ." Irene turned to look at the rift again, watching how the ground close to the edges had burned away or fallen off. She could try shifting the earth--but then that might cause damage somewhere else. Could she use the lava to rise up between the edges and then cool it down, creating a hard patch?
She had no idea if it would work. But it was worth a try, so Irene summoned her power and raised the lava, her fingers twitching at her sides. It was hard--controlling elements she'd summoned on her own was one thing. But this was an entirely different beast--controlling two elements at once, fire and earth, and molding it to her will.
The heat made her hair curl, made the skin of her bare arms burn, and soon enough she was gasping for breath, her arms extended out before her despite herself, and the lava was barely there. Barely there, but moving, moving so slowly--
Come on, damn you, Irene thought, gritting her teeth. Her legs trembled, and the same thoughts as always entered her mind like a poison.
I don't want to be a killer. I don't want to hurt people. I don't want to fail anyone.
No, she suddenly hissed. No more. She was a white witch--she would not be bullied by her own insecurities, her own fears. She would not be afraid of her own power. She would fight, Goddesses damn it all, and she would win.
We must succeed.
She forced herself to straighten.
I am stronger than this. I will control you. The way she'd been able to control so little of her life. The way she'd been able to control those spheres of light in the courtyard, and bridges of air and jets of water and tiny, tiny flames.
The way her breath came easier, her body cooled itself, and the lava finally rose from the crack and simply hovered, waiting. The magic knows where to go, so long as you do.
The whole rift. Spread.
The lava sank back down, bubbling at the surface, and all along the rift it rose up just to the very edge, spilling just slightly over the sides. That was fine. It would hold them together.
Now stay, she commanded, and with one piece of her mind she held it there, and with the other she called for another element.
Rain, she thought, beckoning with a tendril of magic. In answer the sky darkened, the sun disappearing behind thick, heavy clouds. And the rain fell, gentle at first and then hard, cold and soothing on her skin as the lava had been searing. That lava hissed as the cold rain hit it, smoke rising to the sky. But it wasn't enough--she could still feel its heat, could feel the way it fought against the rain.
More, she simply thought. The sky gave it.
Thunder cracked overhead, lightning flashed against Irene's closed eyelids, but she did not open them--did not need to, because she could see it all in her mind--each element like a colored part of her consciousness, each doing what it needed to.
Another.
She pulled at the wind and it came to her. She threw it at the rift, watching as it drove the rain into the cooling fire.
She was almost there. Almost--just one more. The lava was still resisting, still wanting to burn--
Irene knelt to the ground and gripped the frayed, blackened grass in her hands. It came alive between her fingers, fresh and green, and she pulled.
The earth responded, shifting closer together, bit by bit until it had trapped the lava between its two sides, between the rain and wind and crushing force of Irene's magic. And finally it cooled, hardening into a new ground, covering the top of the rift. Now closed.
Irene released the magics, finding they drifted away from her hold as a leaf might drift on the breeze. The sky lightened, its clouds having served their purposes, and she felt the summer heat return to her face. Not as oppressive as the lava, thankfully.
She stood, wiping her face, and found Zelda standing behind her, staring down at her. She opened her mouth, but said nothing, and after several moments she allowed a small smile. "I do believe you've rendered me speechless," the Empress said.
Irene managed a laugh, expecting any minute to feel the exhaustion come down on her. But it never came. She followed behind Zelda and mounted her horse, which had returned after the battle, trying to figure out why she wasn't passing out right then. She'd used a ridiculous amount of magic--controlled all the elements at once! She should have been at least a little dizzy.
But her vision was clear, her body relaxed and loose, and she felt . . . good. Really good.
Could it be a delayed response? She wondered, riding back to the castle. Perhaps it just takes longer now because of all the magic I used.
She continued puzzling it out as she dismounted in the open courtyard beyond the gates and entered the castle interior again. Zelda was already in the hall ahead, surrounded by soldiers, answering questions and giving orders.
"Make sure they reach him," she was saying. Then she turned to Irene who had reached her, and said, "Stay with me. I may yet require your help."
Irene blinked. Zelda scrubbed her face, suddenly deserted by the soldiers. They stood in the main hall, and while it was still filled with soldiers sprinting to and fro, healers tending to the wounded, and shouting from dozens of people, it seemed to Irene that they stood in a pocket of stillness. Zelda looked abruptly very tired, and in a flash Irene remembered their conversation from the night before.
Zelda turned on her heel and went back outside. Irene stumbled a bit following her, surprised at the sudden movement. She followed Zelda to the battlements once more, and joined her side at the top.
The empress stared out over the field they'd just fought on. Her gaze was dark, her throat bobbed, and Irene got that itch on the back of her neck again.
This time, instead of scratching a bite that wasn't there, she sent out small feelers of her magic. They drifted in Zelda's direction, and then suddenly Irene saw a series of images in quick succession--just like last night.
Zelda kneeling in a simple bathrobe, holding a man covered in blood. Zelda looking out over a battlefield and staring down at a different man, his skin black and flaking off as he swung his weapon. Zelda looking over a line of bodies, looking at that same man again, so still in death--
--Zelda falling to her knees at a memorial, hands covering her face, the stars shining coldly overhead.And a strange voice echoed over the images as they came: Daruk is dead.
Then Irene was back on the battlements, gasping as if struck by something. She glanced quickly at Zelda, who hadn't moved from her position, but her voice was heavy when she spoke.
"Daruk," she said, and her voice cracked. "He was killed in the Gorge during the war. Ganondorf . . ."
Irene felt sick. She knew what she'd seen in the vision--in Zelda's memories--only because she'd been reading so many books about magic. It had been a quick study, barely a few pages long because it had been so eroded, but what she'd read . . . She'd had to put the book down.
Irene swallowed. "Reanimation," she said, quietly, and Zelda simply nodded.
Goddesses. What kind of man . . . no, what sort of monster engaged in reanimation, of all magics? It was everything white magic wasn't--dark, bloody, plain evil. It was desecration of life, pure and simple. She tried to imagine anyone she knew being reanimated, her parents--
Bile rose in her throat, swift and burning, and she lurched over the side of the wall. Tears burned her eyes as she coughed, and her body trembled. No. Please, no . . . I cannot imagine that.But Zelda had seen it. She'd had to fight her reanimated friend--had to kill him, or at least watch as he died. She'd seen his body wasting on the battlefield, seen his skin cracked and oozing red malice--
Trembling, she rose from her slouch. Zelda hadn't moved, but when she glanced over, Irene saw that a tear had fallen down the empress's face.
Irene began to feel as if she was finally understanding, just a bit, what Zelda had gone through during the war. If--if her parents, or her Gram . . .
When she was able to breathe levelly again, Zelda said quietly, "Let's get moving. We must return to the castle."
Irene followed her from the battlements and back down to where their horses were being watered. Zelda spoke to Captain Viscen, while Irene fiddled with her saddle. "We will be returning to Hyrule Castle now. Prepare this fortress with as many as you can spare and then join us, captain. Either leave someone here in charge that you trust, or prepare a candidate to replace your position here. Commander impa will see to it that they are selected and transported here as soon as possible. Leave only when that person has arrived."
"Yes. Understood, Empress."
He bowed, and Zelda mounted her horse. Irene barely heard her delivering orders to the other soldiers and kicking her horse in a hard gallop, too consumed with what had to be done next.
Should she still fix the Doors of Time? That wasn't possible, Irene decided. The Doors would never be able to reach everyone, scattered as they were. Even if Irene amplified them with her magic, it wasn't a guarantee that the Doors would find Hazen, Tessen and Saval, wherever they had ended up.
And that was another thing. How was she to find them? She had no idea if they had been scattered to other times, as she was, or if they were still in Termina. And if they were, then how would she locate them? Assuming Link had found them all and turned back time, she would have to find some way to detect their presences--and that was if she could even open a gateway to Termina. It didn't have a similar port, so to speak, to the Doors.
All the other places they'd landed, all the Hyrules, had all had a place like the Temple of Time, and that was why they could travel there. That was Tessen and Hazen's theory, anyway. But if Termina had no such place, then how did they end up there? Was it a dead end? Or was there such a place like the Temple, and they just hadn't found it yet?
This is all assuming the three of them are even in Termina, Irene thought, staring at her saddle horn as the fields passed her by. They rode hard, the horses' hooves kicking up clumps of dirt, already halfway across the massive expanse of Hyrule Field. The hours had flown right by Irene, without her noticing. But if they're not, then that means I have to scour the whole timeline for them. There's no telling where they could have ended up.
And how would I even do that? She thought, sighing. It wasn't as if they had some sort of bell they could ring, and she would come flying. Perhaps if they had a stronger bond, she could have used an empathy link to find them. But there's no guarantee that works across massive distances, or through time itself, she told herself. And even if it did, empathy links deal in emotions and memories. I can't use one to locate people.
Then how? Irene racked her brain, trying to remember what else the books had said. Could she open a portal, like she'd suggested before the battle? But she had no practice with magic of that level--she could end up tearing holes through time itself, firthere destabilizing the timestream.
No, Irene decided, it won't be portals. It would have to be something else.
She could use a blood link. But she had none of their blood to use in such a spell, and--
Irene gasped. Her head whipped around to look at Zelda as they passed through the gates of the castle. Wait--I do. I have their blood right here.
She could hardly wait for her horse to stop before leaping out of the saddle and rushing over to Zelda.
The empress was speaking with her generals, but as Irene impatiently waited for them to finish, a thought sprang to her mind.
Wait--even if I use a blood link, I still have no mode of transportation.
It was nearly enough to make her shoulders sag. But Irene kept them up and turned from the empress, deep in thought.
She knew the Doors couldn't work--or at least, she thought they couldn't. She remembered some of what happened before she'd landed here, when she and Hazen had been stuck in the hole at the bottom of Stone Tower. The Doors hadn't appeared--not as they usually had--but they were there.
As simple, wavering blobs of light, yes, but they had still come. But that didn't hold up with her knowledge of how devices like the Doors worked. All the books she'd read had described them as fixed items. They never moved, never left their areas of influence. And all of the places that Irene and the others had gone to had been those areas of influence. In this Hyrule, the old Temple of Time. In her own Hyrule and Wild's, it was the Lost Woods, where the Master Sword resided. All holy places, all areas of highly concentrated magical power. But they had never come to Irene and the others--she, Hazen Tessen and Saval had had to go there.
Which meant that combined with this and the fact that Termina, essentially as a flip-side of Hyrule, didn't have any such place, the Doors had never actually appeared at all. Not on their own.
Which means something forced them to appear, Irene thought, not noticing how Zelda came up to her in the Gatehouse, or how the Sages had gathered. That might explain their appearances during that time.
"Zelda," Irene said, and jumped when Zelda herself raised a brow, standing two feet in front of her. "Yes?"
Irene blinked. She'd been so in thought . . . She shook her head. Never mind. "Zelda, tell me what happened again when you were in the Sacred Grove."
Zelda seemed taken aback, but she simply said, "I shall assume you have an idea. Let's enter the castle first and gather everyone."
Impatiently, Irene followed her into the castle. Zelda led them to the library, where they waited for the others to arrive. Apparently, Ilayen and Dark had arrived back from escorting Midna's family to Hyrule, where they would stay until all this was done with. Irene ran up the stairs and fetched all her books from where she'd stashed them. When she came back down, everyone else had arrived.
Taking a deep breath, Irene rejoined them in the middle of the main floor. The librarian's desk was off to the left of the library doors, and the woman eyed them all before realizing it was a group of royals, and her direct superiors. She motioned for everyone near them to give them space, and Zelda gave the woman a grateful nod before turning to Irene.
"So what is it?"
"Tell me what happened in the Sacred Grove again," Irene said.
"We used our blood as conduits, of a sort," Zelda responded. "Tetra, Dark, Link and I. As the only ones with Hylian blood, Purah and Robbie thought it best that we try to find the children with our blood."
"Based on the idea that you're Ancient Hylians, yes, that makes sense," Irene muttered. "But it didn't work. Right?"
"Right. The Doors glowed hotly for a moment, and then faded altogether. We assumed they had broken somehow, but . . ."
Her voice tapered off as a lead on for Irene to speak, but Irene simply looked down again. "Right. So they stopped working. Wait--when was this? How long ago?"
Zelda and Tetra shared a look. "It was right about the time you arrived . . ." Tetra said, and her eyes widened.
"Then it did work, but not the way you had intended," Irene said, her mind racing. "Listen--it's a long explanation, but I'll try to keep it short. The Doors are a holy object. Instruments of the goddesses--but they are fixed in place. They never move. And they have--ports, we'll call them--on the other side of whenever we land. Every place the four of us jumped to had a similar port, which made it possible for us to travel between those two places to begin with. But Termina, as a flip-side of Hyrule, doesn't have a port like that. Right?"
Irene whirled to face Link, who was already shaking his head. "No. It doesn't."
"So then if it doesn't have a port, and the Doors themselves are immobile, then how could they have appeared to us there?" Irene asked. No one answered, but the answer was obvious. "They never did. Not on their own."
"Zelda, when you and the others used your blood to try to find Hazen, Tessen and Saval, you essentially forced the Doors to appear in termina," Irene finished, looking directly at her. "They were weak versions of themselves, just blobs of light that faded with every moment--most likely due to Majora's interference--but they still showed up when they had no port to hold them there. If you hadn't figured out that your blood could connect to the Doors like that, we would have died in Termina."
Zelda and the others looked like they might be sick. Midna leaned against a table, her skin a sickly white rather than its usual faint bluish tint. "So, you're saying . . ."
Irene nodded. "I'm saying the Doors were only able to appear because of your blood."
"But how is that possible?" Saria asked. "They weren't trying to make the Doors appear in the first place."
"No," Irene shook her head. "They weren't. But the Doors are holy objects, remember? Instruments of the goddesses. Can you think of any other object like that, Zelda?"
The empress met her gaze, flashing blue, but it was Link and Midna who answered.
"The Fused Shadow."
A series of curses went around the circle.
"Exactly." Irene nodded. Her heart was racing, pouding with this new information. The Fused Shadow bit was a lucky break--an example more than anything of how her theory was correct. And if that was the case, then that meant she could use a blood link to find them after all. "The Fused Shadow was something the Hero also used in his adventure, and direct descendants of him were also compatible with it," Irene said. "Which means that since you are direct descendants of the Hero, you are capable of interacting with holy relics of the past."
"Not that the Fused Shadow is holy in any way," Midna muttered. Irene allowed a small smile. "No. But this means that I can use a blood link to find them."
"How so?" Dark demanded.
"I can use your blood, as Ancient Hylians, and connect it to the Doors to create openings for them to come through," Irene explained.
"What is a blood link?" Impa asked. Beside her, Darunia crossed his arms and Ruto simply listened.
"A blood link is, in its basest form, a way of communicating that is similar to an empathy link," Irene said. "But while empathy links usually depend on a strong mental bond with another person, blood links simply require the blood of the person I'm communicating with. In this case, it won't be communication as much as location, but it will work the same. As long as I am connected to your blood, I can track it through time and locate everyone."
"Then all you need is our blood, right?" Dark said, rolling up his sleeve.
"No," Zelda said, before Irene could answer. "We need the Doors."
"Right," Irene agreed, and smiled. "Our method of transportation."
For a moment, there was just quiet. The group exchanged glances, as if realizing they were about to find their children. After three and a half months--they would finally return. And slowly, Irene watched smiles break out on their faces. Zelda pressed her forehead to Link's, her eyes closing. Midna and Dark embraced tightly, Saval's mother's hands gripping her husband's tunic until her knuckles turned white. Tetra had turned her face into Ilayen's shoulder, her own trembling.
Irene remembered her conversation with the Royal Advisor, and felt a surge of pride. I did it, she thought, and felt tears burn. I've found a way to get them back.Zelda broke away first, wiping her face. The others followed her lead, and there was a marked change in the atmosphere. It seemed lighter, and everyone began talking with more energy, making plans to go to the Sacred Grove as soon as possible.
Until Saria said, "But wait. I thought the Doors were going haywire."
Irene froze. "What?"
Saria looked at her, then at Zelda. The empress looked as if she'd been punched in the gut, like she'd forgotten something important and had only just remembered. Saria said, "Yeah. Ever since you arrived, the Doors have been glowing on and off, like they're flickering. Purah and Robbie have been monitoring them, but they haven't found out why yet."
Irene stared at her. "When--when were you going to say anything?"
She whirled to face Zelda, who'd been swearing enough to make even Dark flinch. The empress turned to her, her face wan. "I--I had been planning on taking you there. Today, actually. After I returned from Volvagia's Landing. But we got sidetracked."
She raised a brow, and Irene had to hold back an irritated groan. She was so much like her son, it was infuriating sometimes. "Well, it doesn't matter now. But we have to find out what's wrong with them."
"I might have an idea," Ruto said suddenly. Irene had almost forgotten she was there. Clearly, she listened more than she spoke. "Irene, do you have any idea where the kids are at this very moment?"
"I--no."
"And you were all separated when the Doors came to you that last time."
"Yes."
"And you said that they were forced to appear because of us," Ruto said. Irene nodded, wondering where the Sage was going with this.
Ruto turned to Zelda. "And before Irene arrived, the Doors would periodically flare up and then die down. It only happened a few times--three, I believe."
"Irene, how many times did you four jump through the Doors?" Ruto asked abruptly. Irene thought for a moment, her head raising slowly.
". . . Three times."
"Ruto, are you suggesting the Doors flared up every time they jumped through?" Zelda demanded.
"It's likely," the Sage answered, still as calm as ever.
"Then, in that case, when they're flaring up like crazy now--" Saria started, and Darunia cut her off.
"That could mean the kids are still jumping!"
"It could," Irene agreed, her mind racing with these new possibilities. The group exploded with voices, with everyone discussing what this meant, but Irene was quiet. She didn't know why, but something didn't sit right with her.
If we were separated when the Doors appeared the last time, then does that mean that the others are just jumping through time over and over again? Is there any logic to where they land? I still think there was a reason we landed in each place we did. But if the Doors are going haywire, does that mean they're broken, somehow? Perhaps they were damaged in the last jump?
"Could it be because we were separated, and they were also forced to appear?" she muttered, unheard by the discussion. "Or was it Majora? Could it still be messing with them?"
But if that was the case, then why wasn't it affecting Irene? Did it not have an interest in her anymore? Was she safe here?
No, that couldn't be it. This was the place that Majora had first attacked them. And if it was in league with Ganondorf . . .
Irene sighed, running a hand through her hair. This is impossible. We're trying to apply logic to something that doesn't operate on any kind of higher reason whatsoever. Whatever powers the Doors, be it their inherent magic or the Goddesses themselves, doesn't seem to be in much control over them now.
She should stick to her original plan, she decided. Go to the Doors, search for the others using a blood link. It would take time sifting through every possible time, even more so now that Hazen, Tessen and Saval could be jumping through them at an unstable rate, but that was something she'd have to get used to. For now--
It hit her a moment before it struck. "Everyone down!" she shouted, and by pure instinct the group crouched--right before something collided with the floor.
Irene blinked through the dust and flying bits of stone, lowering her arms. Her hands glowed with magic, and she stepped forward to see something rise from the crater in the floor. It came level with her face, and turned to look at her. She felt a curse slip out, and raised her hands as fast as she could.
But it wasn't fast enough.
Well that's that! Good old cliffhanger *wipes tear* I do love them.
Review replies!
To Queen Emily the Diligent: YES TIME GO! OoT was so sad honestly. BOTW has the tragedy of post apocalypse, that quiet sort of sadness, but OoT has the pain of like, crushed love and it's really heartbreaking to think about it. So with that being said...are you sure you trust me with them? *evil laugh*
Okay I have webcomics to catch up on so read this big ass chapter and tell me what you think! See y'all next week. Peace~