In the beginning, there was only power.

To be taken, to be harnessed, to protect, to kill.

To channel.

One man used it for all of these. He took power and made it his own, and he harnessed its greatness to protect his lover and kill his enemies.

But power is a dangerous thing. And it is never enough.

He knew this best of all, in the beginning. But now . . .

Now there is only power.

Now there is only revenge.

"Winnora!"

She turned, beautiful as a sunset. "Come on! We're going to be late!"

He smiled, running to catch up. He came to her side, looping his arm with hers, and she leaned up on her toes. Her nose brushed his, and she felt his laugh. "We wouldn't want to be late to our own wedding," she murmured.

"Let them wait," he said back, pressing his forehead to hers. "The whole ceremony can burn. I just want you."

She laughed, pulling away, and looked into his eyes. So bright--like living flames. They burned with desire and happiness. Her heart ached to see it. "The sooner we get over there, the sooner we can get some privacy."

She knew just how to get him moving. He raced to catch up with her, because she was running again, leaping over the verdant fields to the low domed building ahead. He didn't have to hear it to know there were people cheering and celebrating already. In typical witch fashion, he thought.

Before long, he was inside, and Winnora was looking up at him with eyes of sapphire, practically glowing with a light all her own. The words had been said, all there was left was--

"Kiss him already, Winn!"

Winnora laughed, her cheeks flush, and leaned up to him. He went to meet her halfway, and over her shoulder he caught a glimpse--a moment's glance of white hair and sightless eyes.

His blood froze.

Majora sneered at the display. Irene matched it from behind the witches, and then he was roaring, and Zelda was shouting, "Charge!" and it was pandemonium.

Majora was lost in the sudden screeching and flailing of monsters, and for a moment Irene was as well. It--it was madness. An explosion of noise--

"Irene!"

She gasped, meeting Hazen's eyes. "Are you all right?" he shouted above the noise.

Irene stared blankly at him for a moment. "I-I'm fine," she answered, shaking herself. "Listen, he--"

Another face pushed her way into the circle. Irene looked around for Saval and Tessen, and found them running towards four familiar faces--their parents. She focused back on the witch before her, who was watching with sharp, narrow blue eyes.

"Analise Frey," she said, sticking her hand out. Irene took it a bit numbly, before clearing her throat. "Irene."

Analise gathered a few other witches around them in a circle. "So is there a plan?" she asked.

Get yourself together, Irene told herself. "Yes," she said. "I have to get to Majora. He's connected to us, I'm just not sure how yet. But if I can get in close, maybe--"

"Get in close?" Hazen asked sharply. "How close?"

"I need to touch him," Irene said, meeting his gaze.

He didn't like it. She could tell. His mouth tightened, and his eyes narrowed. But he let out a breath. "Out of all of us, you're best suited to fight him," he said. "All right. But I--"

"Don't like it. Yeah, I thought so," Irene finished, offering a smile. Hazen's lips twitched upwards, and she felt herself warm at the sight of it.

"So we'll cover you," Analise said. "Let's go, then."

They broke from a circle, just in time. A Lizalfos came rushing at them, and one of the witches froze it midstep. With chilling precision, Analise stepped in front of it and cut her arm downward, and the Lizalfos's head slipped from its shoulders, thunking on the ground with a wet sound.

Irene and Hazen followed her across the space, dodging monsters and Hylians. Hazen had both swords out, swinging them with fierce focus, clearing the path to Majora. It wasn't flickering anymore--it stayed solidly in its human form, and Irene felt her magic pulse as she got closer.

On her next step, Majora turned and saw her. It snarled, throwing a blast of fire at her, and Irene threw an arm out, her magic blasting it away, connecting with his.

"You have to stop!"

"I'm doing it to protect you," he argued, whirling to face her. "I'm doing it to protect all of us. Why can't you see that?"

She took his hands. "You're killing innocent people. The Hanshe Tribe did nothing to us."

"They wanted to steal our land." He ripped his hands away. "It could have put you at risk."

"M--"

"Don't, Winn. Please. All I want is to keep you safe. Can't you understand?"

Her neck jerked. Irene's mind flashed with scenes she didn't remember, people she didn't recognize. But she knew them--or was starting to.

Majora was roaring. A massive monster reared out in front of him, protecting him, and Hazen lunged to face it.

"Hazen!"

"No!"

Irene and the witches stopped short as Link and Zelda rushed ahead to surround their son. Zelda met Irene's eyes as she was pulled back by the witches. "Don't stop!"

Irene staggered backwards, hesitant--but Analise grabbed her arm, and all she saw of Hazen was his eyes, flashing blue before he was lost behind a wave of battle.

Her heart was beating so hard she was sure everyone could hear it. But no one paid her any mind, and the monsters that attacked were swiftly dispatched.

Majora saw her again. It was almost looking for her now, searching the crowds of monsters and Hylians to find her. When it saw her, a jet of flame blasted outward, and Irene snarled, whipping it away. As steam rose into the air, her back arched.

"No!"

Flames crackled around the wreckage, consuming all that was left of his home. Bodies littered the ground, smoking, blackened, charred. Dead.

He breathed hard, barely smelling the burned flesh of his people, his village. It didn't matter--none of it did. His home was gone, his family was dead, and none of it mattered because she was--she was . . .

They'd killed her. He knew the shape of the spears still stuck in the ground, knew the techniques they used when they killed.

Hanshe.

The breath he took now was shaken, trembling. But not with sadness. No, that was gone, burned away along with her, and the life she carried within. Her son--his son. All he had left now . . . was revenge.

He raised his head, and the flames danced in his eyes like the madness in his heart, and he stood on his feet. He looked one last time at Winnora, her body curled around itself, her mouth still open in a silent scream.

"I'll avenge you, Winn," he said, his tears evaporating as soon as they fell. The fire inside him burned so hot, scalding away his senses, his pain, his emotions--all but one. He turned his gaze to the mountains, where he knew those heathen resided, drunk on their victory. Unheeding of the demon they had unleashed.

Rage burned through him, hot as the flames reaching for the sky.

"I just wanted to protect you."

Irene staggered to her feet, hair slipping from its knot, and gripped Analise's hand tightly. Majora hadn't taken its eyes off her, the bright yellow dancing with madness--she could see it now. She could see the flames of that day, still burning away inside it. Inside him.

She didn't take her eyes from him as she neared, as the witches around her were taken away one by one, either by battle or by another's cry for help, even as Analise released her to stand alone against Majora. She readied a bolt of her magic--she was closing in now, closer every step.

Majora didn't bother retreating--instead, he met her step for step, his arm raising in an attack of his own, his fire burning so hot it was blue, and they flung their magic forward with a scream that echoed over the entire battle--

--A scream that was lost, because as soon as their magic touched, lightning struck the space where they met, and Irene was thrown back, rolling once, twice and a third time.

She came to a stop, lifting herself on shaking arms, and saw Majora on his back before black took her vision, and she crumpled.

"Irene!"

His shout was lost. Hazen fought to see her over the combatants, but she was gone--

He snarled, stabbing through a Lizalfos. It fell, but he still couldn't see her, and another one took its place before long. He snarled, meeting its boomerang with a sharp clang. The last thing he'd seen was a flash of lightning--but what did that mean? What about Majora?

He was torn from his thoughts as he heard a shout, and he whirled to face it.

Zelda was mounted once again on Sanidin, crossing blades with a golden Lynel. Hazen shivered looking at it. It was the same one he'd lunged to fight with Irene, but his parents had shoved him out of the way and taken the beast on themselves. But now, Link was separated, surrounded by a constant circle of monsters, leaving Zelda to fight the monster on her own. And Hazen couldn't tell if she was winning.

She needed Link. He was the only one to have beaten a Lynel before, aside from Aunt Mipha, and, well--

Hazen shoved the thoughts of the war from his mind and cut down a moblin, rolling between its short legs to slash its back. It roared and fell to a knee, and Hazen stabbed his blade through its neck, blocking a bokoblin with the Magical sword. He dispatched it and looked up in time to see Link send a lizalfos flying, its boomerang clattering to the ground.

Breathing hard, Hazen lunged into the circle of monsters surrounding his father, his mind retreating to a series of movements: slash, duck, block, stab, repeat. Don't grind the blades, he thought, remembering his uncle's relentless teachings. He broke away and rolled, slashing across its side, and he was onto the next before it had finished falling.

He couldn't tell how many he'd killed, but suddenly his vision was filled with his father's face, and the sounds of battle returned to a cacophony. "Mom needs us!" he shouted, pointing with a blade. Link turned to look, and swore.

Sanidin reared, avoiding a deadly swipe of the Lynel's blade, and the beast roared, swinging its massive sword around to clash down on Zelda's. She managed to avoid it, whipping the thin blade around to stab into the monster's exposed flesh. Link and Hazen tried to reach her, but a line of monsters got in their way, almost knowing their intention, and moving to intercept them.

Hazen snarled, barely hearing his father's words: "Stay focused. Don't lose your concentration."

They lunged together, blocking where the other struck, and it felt like seconds before the line of monsters was a pile of purple dust at their feet. Hazen wiped the sweat and monster blood from his face and turned to smile at his father when he heard a high whinny.

Sanidin was rearing, screaming, blood pouring to the ground, and crashed down on his side. "Mom!" Hazen screamed.

She wasn't under him. Hazen fell into his father's side with relief, but the lynel was still alive, and it was circling the horse, as if looking for its missing rider.

Zelda appeared, throwing off a bokoblin that had leaped on her. She rolled out from under it and stabbed it with her dagger. She was on her feet in an instant, ignoring the lynel's roaring, and fell to her knees at Sanidin's side.

The horse wasn't screaming anymore. He'd fallen silent, his side barely rising anymore, and though Hazen couldn't hear it, he could see his mother's mouth open in a scream of her own, blood slipping from the wound in her temple. With the Alliance uniform and the look of fierce rage, Hazen was struck with the thought that she looked identical to her younger self, from the war. And above her, completing the chilling image, the lynel raised its sword to strike.

The thought was gone as soon as it had occurred, and then they were running, Link's hand tight on Hazen's arm as he dragged him forward. "Zel!" he shouted, voice hoarse.

She didn't respond, and as the lynel roared, that sword flashing down, its voice suddenly choked off, ending not in a gurgle, or a snarl, just . . . silence. Link dodged a monster's attack and cut it down with vicious precision. Hazen threw off a bokoblin and followed his father, to where Zelda slowly stood, her sword tip dragging along the floor. Hazen slowed, staring at the scene before him.

The lynel was frozen completely, as if someone had taken time and simply . . . stopped it. Its sword had stopped barely an inch from his mother's neck. Zelda hadn't moved, but her eyes were like living flames, the blue in them bright as the sea and cold as ice. She moved forward, raising her sword, and shoved the blade up to the hilt in the lynel's chest.

Blood sprayed, coating her face, but she simply removed the sword and turned away. Hazen jumped as the lynel fell to its feet, and then to its side, its roar choking out to a pained rasp before fading entirely. Zelda wiped her face as she neared them, meeting Hazen's shocked gaze.

"There is a lot to explain," she said, gripping his shoulder. "But now is not the time."

"Now could very much be the time," Hazen argued, sudden anger making his voice sharp. "If you have power like that, this could be a really fucking great time!"

"Hazen," his father warned, and Hazen was starkly reminded of the time in Zora's Domain, when his father had questioned him of his origins. But Hazen ignored him now, as Zelda held up a hand.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice tired, and something else. After a moment, seeing the look in her eyes, Hazen realized it was fear. "Please, just have a bit more patience, Haz--"

He ripped out of her grip, ignoring the flash of pain in her eyes. "You're afraid to tell me," he snapped. "And you should be."

That sent a look of confusion and then fear so potent through his parents that he actually felt guilty about it. But then he remembered what he'd seen, and though he knew he wasn't being fair, he bit out, "Let me know when you're ready to explain."

He ran from them, ignoring their calls, and through the noise, amazingly, he heard a familiar voice.

It was Saval, screaming at her mother. Tessen, Dark and Ilayen were defending them, their faces hard and dark with fury at what Saval was saying, and occasionally Saval shot off an arrow through the gaps in their line. She was crying, but the anger in her face told him she wasn't going to hide behind her scars anymore. A flicker of pride flashed through him, and then they were gone, lost in the madness of battle.

"Hey!"

Another familiar voice. And this time, one that brought a smile to his face. Hazen turned, cutting down a screeching monster and ducking under an Alliance member's halberd, he came face to face with the Hero of Time. There were a few others behind him, but two of them split off to run in his parents' direction. "I thought you might need some help."

"You have no idea," Hazen muttered, taking the Hero's hand. He turned to see his parents greeting the other two visitors, his mother with shock and a growing smile, his father with a tight embrace and crossing swords.

"Are they all you brought with you?" Hazen asked Link, who crooked a brow.

"Are you saying I'm cheap? If I was going to travel the timestream, do you think I'd only bring two heroes and one princess back with me?"

As he spoke, the running streams behind them that lined the strange world they were in suddenly brightened to a bright white, and out of each of them, one figure stepped, the same sword peeking over their shoulders as they looked around. The one closest, a short boy with curly brown hair, met the gaze of the Hero of Time, nodded, and drew his sword and leapt into the fray with a yell.

Hazen stared at Link, gesturing vaguely at the boy, at the others--all blue eyed, all wearing green tunics. "Are--are they--?"

Link nodded. "They are."

"And--and is this . . ." Hazen had suspected from the beginning, but now he thought--it couldn't be, but . . .

Link nodded once more. "Yes. This is the timestream itself."

"Goddesses." It was the only thing he could say. Hazen looked around, watching the heroes tear into the monster army with a vengeance he'd never seen before, never heard of before, except in the legends--the legends about them. He laughed, pressing a bloody hand to his forehead, feeling like he was starting to go insane. He just couldn't tell if it was a bad thing or not.

"Don't think too much about it," Link advised. "Just focus on the battle, and you'll be alright."

"Yeah," Hazen muttered, watching Link unsheathe the Master Sword. The same sword his father used, the same one all nine heroes were currently using. This alone should have broken the timstream, right? Or was it because it was already breaking--

"Stop thinking about it!" A hand whacked into his head, and Hazen waved off Link.

"No, no," he muttered, looking around. "This isn't right."

"What do you mean?"

"The timestream was breaking down," Hazen said, watching the eras fly by in those rivers, the same ones the heroes had stepped out of. "It's what allowed Majora to wreak such havoc in my time, and in Irene's. If this is the timestream, it should be collapsing even as we speak."

Link was silent for a long moment. "I should find Zelda," he murmured. "You get your witch. Try to find out if she has an answer, and I'll do the same."

Hazen nodded, and as Link ran off, he scanned the masses, trying to find a hint of blue hair, or a flash of magic.

Come on, Irene, he thought, gripping his sword tightly. Where are you?

Rippling grass, silvered with morning dew. Power pulsed from the center of the fields like a wave, setting the winds into motion. It carried the faint scent of smoke; old, but fresh in a fractured mind. Yellow eyes burning with the flames of destruction met those of sightless white, conveying emotion despite their blankness.

Conveying sadness, conveying anger.

Hatred. Devotion. Love. Betrayal. Sorrow and joy, more than could be said in words. It all lay in those white eyes, staring into yellow.

He hated those eyes.

Hated the pity he found in them, hated the words the owner of those eyes said to him.

"It does have to be this way," he answered, and a thrill of pleasure rolled through him at the way those eyes narrowed. "They took everything from me."

"It wasn't them."

"Liar," he suddenly spat, fury overtaking him.

"Do you think Winnora would have wanted this?"

He sneered. "She was the same. Her love was a lie, a trick to pin me down. They were all the same."

"Is that why you slaughtered them?" The sightless man's voice was quiet.

A maniacal laugh echoed over the fields. "They were supposed to be the greatest magic users of the world! Do you have any idea how disappointing it was? To find out how easily they died?"

"No." He drew his sword, the weak sunlight reflecting off of the twisted blade.

His opponent summoned his own weapon. Flames burst to life around him, searing the dew from the grass, settling in the palms of his hands. He hunched over, a mad smile overtaking his face. "So you want to follow in their steps, do you?" he hissed, a laugh rumbling from his chest.

The sightless man did not respond. His eyes, so blank, looked upon his opponent and felt a new emotion, starting deep in his gut and rising up, seeping into his heart and mind with increasing feeling. He had not felt it in many years, but when he looked at his opponent now, he remembered what the man had once been, what he could have been, and he felt that emotion rise up in him, swelling like a wave.

"You could have been so much more," he said, regret weighing his words down to a mere murmur.

There was no response. Now was not a time for words. Now, there was only time for battle.

It lasted many days, though neither was aware of the passage of time. The evidence of their battle was everywhere: mountains split, gouges dug in the land, lightning cracking where there was no storm to be found. And yet all the while, the sightless man still fought--knowing how to end it and still matching that god of destruction's power blow for blow.

He knew the answer he sought. It sat in his tunic, weighing his swings, making the cuts and burns sting. It was the last hope of the witches, given to him as their warrior. End it, they had told him.

"What's wrong, Fierce Deity?" the god called, his tone mocking. Both broke away, breathing hard. Blood slipped from the corner of the god's mouth, and he wiped it away carelessly. It left a red smear on his face. "I would have thought you'd tire by now."

The Fierce Deity did not answer. 'The key, the key,' a voice in his head chanted. 'Use the key.'

A face flashed in his mind--a woman of beauty and grace, her blue eyes shining like sapphires. He remembered her.

Remembered her wedding day, when she'd walked the aisle with his best friend--the love of her life.

He looked up now, into an unrecognizable face. Regret surged, powerful enough to make him reach for that key, that last hope.

He pulled it out, staring into the object. A blank piece of wood, bound with magic far beyond what either of them could muster. The only thing to stop him.

The Fierce Deity blocked the approaching attack, sending it flying. He leapt at the same time as the god, as his best friend, and when Majora raised an arm burning with flame, the Fierce Deity raised his own, and pressed that wood to the face of his enemy.

Irene cracked her eyes open. Blood splashed overhead, blades crossed, bodies fought back and forth. And in a rush, everything came back to her.

She shot upright, holding her head. Her hand came away red, and when she blinked, she knew she'd bled into her eye. Staggering, she made it to her feet, and almost immediately fell. She crashed into a hard, warm side.

"Even in battle, you're still falling for me?"

Irene raised her head and found herself staring into a familiar pair of blue eyes. "Only because I know you'll catch me," she said, her voice cracking despite her smile.

Hazen laughed, straightening her up. Too soon, though, it was fading. "I think there's something wrong here," he said. "Or maybe something right? I'm not sure. But the timestream is supposed to be breaking, right? So why--"

The ground rumbled beneath their feet, disrupting battles all around. Irene latched onto Hazen's arm, and as she watched, it opened up into a literal void not ten feet from them, swallowing the monsters and Alliance soldiers alike.

"Irene!"

The rumbling sounded closer. Something shoved her aside, and she fell with a shout. She scrambled up to see Hazen sliding down a patch of the ground--sliding into the void.

"Hazen!" Irene leapt forward, seizing his hands. Her feet scratched against the floor, trying to find purchase, but she was sliding, and sudden tears were blocking her vision.

Blinking them away, she drew her dagger and slammed it to the hilt in the ground, but it was breaking away. "Irene, let me go," Hazen called.

"No!" she snapped, turning her gaze to him. His hands were slipping from hers, and she was losing her grip on her dagger--

"You're the only one who can defeat him!" Hazen argued. "You have to let me go!"

"Shut up!" she shouted, because it was easier than saying anything else. She turned her head, searching for something else, anything else, and saw a spear sticking into the floor. Hooking her foot around her dagger, she quickly fashioned a whip out of magic and flung it at the spear. It wrapped around the shaft and she pulled it tight. Their descent stopped abruptly, but the jarring stop made his hands slip more out of her grip. Around them, soldiers and monsters fell into the void with quickly fading shrieks.

Hazen looked away from the abyss waiting for him. "Irene," he warned.

"Shut up!" she screamed. Thinking fast, she called on her empathy link with Zelda. We're slipping. I need help.

A tug in her mind told her Zelda received the message. But when the voice that called, "We're here! Hang on!" wasn't hers, Irene let out a laugh, squeezing her eyes against the tears that came.

They were pulled up and over the edge of the hole, and as soon as Hazen was safely over the edge, Irene whirled and threw her arms around Saval's neck, hearing her laugh. "Thank you," she whispered.

Saval squeezed her tightly and pulled away, and as Irene turned and saw Hazen on his feet, standing beside Tessen, he opened his mouth to speak.

Irene slapped him, sending him stumbling back. "Are you stupid?" she shouted. "What the hell was that? 'Let me go'--no! Don't you ever say something as stupid as that again!"

He looked shocked for a moment, then sighed deeply. "I'm sorry," he said. "But--"

"No buts," Irene muttered, ignoring Saval and Tessen snickering. She ripped her dagger from the ground and looked around. More spots in the timestream had opened up, and while the rumbling had stopped, it was still extremely unstable. "Does this answer your question?" she asked, not really expecting an answer.

She met his gaze anyway, and his blue eyes were grave. "We have to end this soon," he said. "Do you have a plan? What happened to you, anyway?"

About that. "We need to find the witches," Irene said.

Hazen nodded. "Right. Come on."

They set off, scanning the melee for the black cloaks of the witches, but before they'd gotten very far, the ground trembled again. Hazen and Irene backed quickly away from the cracks, keeping an eye out, but they were separated from Tessen and Saval, and the monsters capitalized on the opportunity, converging on them.

Irene called out, readying her magic, but Saval waved her off, climbing atop a broken up section of the timestream's floor, piled up in an outcropping. She pulled her bow out and set to work. Irene waved her hand and created three other quivers beside her, and Saval waved her arm in thanks.

Tessen had gotten surrounded by a swarm of monsters, but a group of Alliance soldiers formed a circle around him. Irene met Hazen's gaze, and they turned and ran from the growing cracks. They found the witches defending each other back to back. Analise was bleeding from her cheek, but she waved it off. "Thank the goddesses you're still alive," she said to Irene. "None of us can keep this up for long."

"I think I have a plan, but, well, it doesn't solve everything," Irene said. She opened her mouth to elaborate as they huddled against an outcropping of rock, but just then a scream rent the air.

Hazen lifted his swords, but as they found the owner of the voice, he went to take a step. Hesitating, he looked back at Irene. "Go," she said, watching the pack of lizalfos encroach on the injured soldiers.

Hazen hesitated one moment longer--then grabbed her by the arm and kissed her hard. Irene watched him run up behind the monsters, slide under one of their arms, and slice it off as he rose. With a breath that hitched only slightly, Irene turned back to the witches.

"Here's what I need you to do."

"Are you sure this will work?"

"Trust me, my friend, this will do what needs to be done. But be warned--there is quite a nasty side effect."

"What is it?"

"The magic is wild. It can be molded to whatever shape you desire. And it will reflect the outcome upon yourself . . . whatever it may be."

". . . What happens to him . . . will also happen to me?"

"That's right, my friend. Are you sure you want such a dangerous tool?"

Silence.

"It is not about what I want."

"Very well, my friend. Just make sure it is returned to me . . . after."

"As you wish."

I hope this works, Irene thought.

Majora was just ahead. He was surrounded by a circle of monsters. "We have to get him away from them," she murmured to Analise, who nodded.

She and the other seven witches raised their hands and began glowing. Around Majora, the monsters began glowing as well, so bright that Irene had to squint slightly. Before it grew unbearable, the monsters seared golden and then just . . . blew away in the wind. Like dust.

"Magic can be a terrible thing," Analise murmured. Irene swallowed a lump in her throat, feeling the weight of what she was about to do settle on her.

"I know," she said, quietly.

With the monsters gone, Majora had no defense against the witches' attack. They dashed out from the cover Irene had provided and surrounded him, dodging his attacks and settling in a circle. Majora whirled, snarling, and sent a jet of flame at Irene. She blasted it away with a hand, and before he could gear up for another, she closed her eyes, searching deep within herself for that power.

It surged up, flooding her veins, and she knew by the look on Majora's face that her eyes were now white, instead of blue. She raised a hand to him.

Golden shackles formed around his neck and wrists, their chains digging deep into the ground. He fell to his knees, glaring up at her, and around them, the witches began chanting, the language unfamiliar.

Beneath Majora, gold lines drew around him, connecting and extending until they formed a circle, glowing bright. Symbols and markings appeared within the circle, creating the basis for a spell even Morgana had not dared use.

Irene fought down the emotions in her and placed her hands on either side of Majora's face. He was still snarling. But now his eyes had the look from before--from his memories, when he'd fought the Fierce Deity.

They were haunted.

She didn't give him time. She summoned her power, and with a breath her gold light seared into his mind, digging, searching for what she needed, sifting through all the memories of hate and pain, of joy and wonder and all the confusion.

She felt tears burn her eyes as she found it, the root of all the trouble.

Winnora was beautiful here. Her eyes were a bright blue, and her face was young and free of any stress, or fear, or pain. There were no burns, to stab wounds marring her chest like in the memories Irene had seen. He had kept her here, in the deepest part of him. He'd protected her, like he'd only ever wanted.

"I'm sorry," Irene cried. Her magic seared Winnora's face away, burning the memory of her into ash on the wind. It blew away as she reached for the others, the last pieces of his happiness, the cause of his confusion.

It was her, all this time. Irene felt the love for Winnora in the memories she held as she burned them, searing away everything about her, about the witches.

It has to be done, she told herself, watching that witch's face burn away. She wished it didn't have to happen.

It's not about what I want, she thought, clinging to it with every piece of her. He's better off this way.

When it was done, when every last piece of Winnora was gone, Irene retreated from Majora's mind. Her head snapped back as she returned to her own mind, sucking in a deep breath, and as she looked down, the magic circle's glow fading slowly, she saw Majora's eyes staring into hers.

For a moment she couldn't tell if it had worked. His eyes were so wild, so . . . confused, she worried if she'd made things worse. But then he looked past her, and they narrowed, filling with such fury that she shivered.

Irene stepped back as he rose to his feet, no longer shackled--the need for them gone--and stalked past her without even a second glance. Desperately, she turned to see who he was glaring so fiercely at.

Her heart stopped.

Hazen breathed heavily, bleeding from a dozen wounds, his swords at the ready. His eyes were narrowed, his golden hair matted with dirt and blood. He matched Majora glare for glare.

"You," Majora snarled.

BOOM BABEH!!!

Oh my fucking god. This chapter was nigh impossible to write, y'all. Like holy shit. It took me two weeks to write this fuckin thing. I've been trying to come up with a good final battle for months and nothing felt right, but I've got something I really like here, so hopefully you all enjoyed it too! Praying to god for that lmao.

SO there's part one of the final battle. Not much left to go here, probably like two more chapters?? Maybe three.

Also does anyone watch miraculous ladybug and if so, would you be interested in reading a fic about it? Because I'll be honest it's completely taken over all my waking hours. Like my next fic to write was supposed to be End's Beginning, but then I made the mistake of thinking about writing a miraculous fic, and now, I'm fucked lmao. So like if anyone would be interested let me know mkay. Thanks y'all! And thank you for being patient haha. See y'all next Monday, totally not late!