Author note: Happy anniversary to "The Last Story: Breath Of The Wild!" Today marks nearly a year since this fic was first posted as a oneshot (technically its anniversary is tomorrow, the day after posting). I hope all of you enjoy reading the next chapters of this fic as much as I enjoyed writing them.
All the chapters for this fic have been fully written as of this past May! This fic will officially end at 29 chapters, and I hope you enjoy reading the last nine chapters after this one.
20. Jirall
Getting into the fortress wasn't hard. A few arrows there, beating up a few guards there, and he was already in said fortress with Arganan, Asthar and Therius by his side.
With every time his blade cut into the flesh of his opponents, he remembered.
The smile of Mirania, as Dagran complained about her eating two-hundred-and-fourteen muffins. Lowell asking Syrenne if she pulled a bloke, only for her to punch him over the railing of Ariela's tavern. Yurick, showing Zael what was behind his eyepatch; a shimmering stone meant to amplify his own fire magic.
There were other memories, too; Zael watching Syrenne and Therius yell at each other, about to fight in the castle courtyard before Asthar intervened. Calista, mourning the lack of adventure and freedom she sorely craved. Jirall, initially accusing Zael of working with the Gurak.
The memories made his stomach twist and turn, and he felt hazy as he fought his way past the Gurak. He noticed Therius take down a few Gurak from his left, and Asthar facing something else from his right, and…
"Zael!" Arganan's voice tore into his mind, and he looked up to see Arganan healing his shoulder with magic. The older man's brow furrowed as he looked down at the now-healed wound, before he looked up at him. "What the hell is wrong?"
"What do you mean?" Zael asked.
"You know perfectly well what I mean." Arganan's glare made Zael's blood turn cold. "You've been distracted since we got here. Is it the memories?"
"…Yeah." It was impossible to lie to him.
"Try not to get in your head so much. Or else you'll get your head off your shoulders."
Zael winced at that. He wasn't sure if he really wanted to contemplate the possibility of dying for sure. Especially after many other people died for his own sake. "Duly noted."
"That's the last of them," Therius called, and Zael looked towards the white knight. The rapier he held was bloody, despite being a dead man wielding it, and Zael offered him an apologetic glance.
"Sorry for making you and Asthar do most of the work."
"It's fine, lad. We know you have your memories." Asthar managed, and Zael turned to face him. Asthar offered him a light smile, before it dissolved into concern. "What…did you remember?"
"Just my friends, mostly. And a couple other things."
"Anything about facing Zangurak yet?" Arganan asked.
Zael shook his head. "No."
He was surprised he still didn't remember how his final encounter with Zangurak really went, before he lost consciousness for a hundred years.
"Perhaps when we fight Zangurak, you'll remember then." Arganan dryly quipped. "Do try to keep your head in the present time."
"I'll try." Zael managed, but he could only sigh. No promises.
One, two, three, four terminals were activated as Zael and the others journeyed their way through the twisting, rocky fortress. It was hard to navigate with its somewhat-crumbling paths, but it wasn't as bad as Zael remembered. Back then, the Gurak Continent looked even more devoid of life than Lazulis did.
A hundred years later, it didn't look a lot better.
Maybe even worse. It would be hard to tell considering that he was just in the fortress, but he betted if he was among the Gurak civilians, he would see a lot more damage. It was gut instinct at best, but Zael just hoped, at the very back of his mind, that their suffering hadn't worsened too much.
He knew that was a futile hope, but he hoped for that anyway.
"Well, well, well. Look who we have here!"
Zael stopped in his tracks, looked around. A voice echoed throughout the chamber that he, Therius, Arganan and Asthar stepped into.
And then someone steps out in front of them. Wavy hair, fine clothing…and a deranged, too-familiar smile on his face, holding a sword glowing a deep red colour.
"Jirall," Zael breathed, just as Jirall locked eyes with him. A hollow laugh escaped the fallen noble as he brandished his sword.
"I knew you'd be here, Zael."
