Author's Note: Hey folks! Looks like we're early again, by a couple days, not that it matters much.
We're also nearly to the end of the arc; there's one more chapter after this, and then I'll be back on hiatus again to work on the next arc. Depending on how the next couple of months go, I could be done as soon as the end of December, or as late as February-I'll be able to say more next time I update.
The elevator platform settled at the bottom of its shaft with a soft hiss. Zelda poked her head out of the alcove, squinting against the third floor's oppressive dimness. The floors above had been lit brightly by the ceiling panels and sconces on the walls, but the latter were entirely absent, the former half-broken— shards of glass and twisted wire covered the floor, and the few panels that remained aloft guttered like candles. The walls were the same deep, light-eating brown as above, rimed with a fine layer of frost that crunched under her fingers as she gripped the edge of the alcove for stability.
There was nothing down the hall to the left of the alcove, only more shattered lights along the hall as it curved out of sight. The right was equally empty, and equally dim, and Zelda felt her innards begin to ice.
"Well?" Link asked quietly. She felt the heat of him against her back, the way his hand lingered at her hip as if to pull her back into the alcove at a moment's notice.
"Nothing," she replied. "It looks completely empty, at least from here."
Link sighed— she felt it more than she heard it, a puff of air next to her ear. "Still, I'd keep your bow ready," he said. "The door to the inner room is on the other side, and we don't know where the gatekeeper is yet."
Zelda grimaced, but nodded in response and unslung her bow from her shoulder, nocking an arrow in preparation. He was right, of course— she'd forgotten entirely about the gatekeeper in their rush to get down to the third floor. To where Dragmire had fallen.
She nearly opened her mouth to ask Link what they would do if the gatekeeper had gotten to Dragmire first, but hesitated, and bit her lip instead, swallowing down the words. She wasn't going to think about it. She was not .
She stepped out into the corridor instead, peering left and right again warily. The halls remained empty. She took another step, wincing as one of the light panels crunched underfoot. Link's boots crunched on frost behind her, and there was a soft ring of steel as he unsheathed the Sword that Seals the Darkness. The length of the blade gave off a faint, bluish glow in the dimness, casting strange shadows and reflections on the frost-coated walls.
"So, which way do you think?" she asked.
Link shrugged. "Both ways will take us to the same place, in the same amount of time," he said, frowning thoughtfully. "But if we go to the left and the gatekeeper's waiting for us, I'll be able to use the wall for at least partial cover."
"Good point," Zelda said.
Link slipped past her to take the lead, and Zelda grimaced at his back. Left was good for a left-handed swordsman, but a right-handed archer would need to expose her whole body to take aim. She readied her bow regardless, her eyes glued to the curve of the hall ahead. The space was quiet, deathly so, broken only by the sound of their footsteps in the frost underfoot. Part of Zelda wished she held the Slate— she wanted its map, to keep an eye on their position. The entrance to the inner chamber was on the opposite side of the floor, and while this floor was smaller than either of the upper two, it was still large enough that she couldn't be certain how far they were from their goal. How long until they'd wrapped all the way around and came back to the elevator alcove? The inner wall, she noticed now, was also coated in frost— what if it hid the shape of the door?
And then Link balked, and she nearly collided with him. She opened her mouth to protest— he reached back and grabbed her shoulder, hissing warningly.
"Take a look," he whispered. "But be quiet. I think it's sleeping."
Zelda nearly protested— if it was the gatekeeper, she was fairly certain Malice constructs didn't sleep — but she peered past him anyway, down the corridor.
She nearly couldn't pick it out, laying against the iced-over wall as it was, and it took her a moment to grasp the shape of the beast. This gatekeeper was animalistic— like an outsized lizalfos, maybe, but the shape was wrong— the forelimbs too long, too proportionate, and ended in massive paws with curling claws like a cat's rather than a lizalfos' grasping hands. The shape of the head was wrong, too. Blunter, more flat-faced, and the eyes didn't bulge from the skull— which terminated in a beak of ice, a shearing surface that looked heavy enough to cut plate armor like a knife through cheese. The whole of the beast was covered in it, thick, heavy plates of glossy white ice, pitted in places, through which she could see the dim magenta glow of Malice that flowed inside it. As she watched it seemed to inhale, then exhaled a cloud of frost that coated the walls and floor near its massive head.
"...So," Link whispered. "What do you think? It's blocking the door, and we won't be able to sneak past..."
"We'll have to kill it, obviously," she replied. "It's the gatekeeper. But I'm worried about the plates..."
"How many fire arrows did you say you had, again?"
"Five. But I think..." She shook herself, peered at the beast again. "...There's a spot on its breast, between the front legs, that's already gashed. If I can place my shots there, it should break open the armor enough for you to get through with the Sword."
Link nodded. "I'll draw its attention, so you have space to shoot."
Zelda nodded back, then slid her broadhead back into her quiver and drew the first of her fire arrows. She nocked carefully and drew, sighting for the weak point on the beast's breast. One breath.
She loosed on the exhale. The arrow sprang forward and struck home, ruby head shattering in the chink of its armor. The beast's eyes flew open, Maliced gaze locking on her face, and it cracked its beak and roared . A blast of frost shot down the corridor towards them. Zelda scrambled back, out of range. The ice blocked her vision.
There was a crack . A crunch. And then thunder. The beast surged out of the cloud of frost, shedding meltwater from the crack in its chest, though it seemed not to notice. She backed off further.
Link didn't. He shot forward instead, ducking a slash of those hooked forepaws, came up under the underbelly. The air around him shimmered. His sword blurred—
The beast struck him broadside with its tail and hurled him sideways.
Zelda shouted and nocked her second fire arrow, lining up a shot. The beast's head snapped towards her, eyes narrowing. It bellowed back, sending a gout of ice towards her. Zelda loosed.
The fire arrow cut a path through the cloud of frost and slammed home in the beast's chest. Zelda swore. She'd missed her aim by a handspan, melting into the unmarked plate beside her target.
The beast lunged for her. Zelda scrambled back, her boots slipping for purchase on the floor. She grabbed for another arrow. Green fletching. Maybe it would slow it down.
The electric arrow slammed home into the beast's head, and the topaz shattered explosively. The beast roared and arched, thrashing as emerald tendrils of lightning snapped and crackled over its body. She drew her third fire arrow. Sighted.
Loosed.
The arrow slammed home in the crack in its breast, melting the hole wider, deeper. The beast screamed at that. Its foreleg buckled.
Then it pushed itself back upright, snorting ice at her. Zelda backed further down the corridor.
"Link!" she shouted.
No response.
She opened her mouth to call again, but the beast surged forward, galloping at her. She turned on her heel and bolted back down the corridor. Her boots skidded. The beast kept coming.
Then she hit a slick patch and her boots went out from under her. She went down hard on her right hip and swore— pain shocked up her side from the impact. The beast thundered closer, rearing up over her head. Claws open like swords.
Zelda snatched an arrow and loosed it into the beast's face. Lightning crackled over it again. It screamed and toppled back, and Zelda scrambled back to her feet. She drew a second arrow. Her fourth fire. Aimed. Loosed.
The beast's tail lashed out at that moment, swatting her arrow out of the air. The ruby head shattered in a gout of flame, and the beast screamed in fury. Zelda backed away further as it fought to rise. She turned and ran for it before it could. She could see the elevator alcove up around the corner— if she could get to it, if it was small enough—
The beast's paws thumped on the floor. She vented a scream as her boots went out again. Slammed into the wall. Caught herself. Scrambled up again.
She wouldn't make it. She turned. Nocked, drew, released on instinct.
The arrow— her final fire arrow— struck home. The beast screamed, loosing another blast of ice that coated her head-to-toe in frost. The plate on its breast cracked alarmingly.
But not enough. It was still intact. Still shielding the core of Malice. Water and thick, viscous magenta dripped from the crack to sizzle on the floor.
Still. Too thick to puncture with one of her amber arrowheads. She began to back away again, fumbling in her quiver. Bomb arrow?
No. Quarters too close. Electricity would only slow it down. Ice was less than useless. And she could waste every broadhead in her quiver and still not open a large enough chink in the armor.
The beast rose again, tail lashing, and roared at her. The blast of frost struck her again. She felt the joints of her coat and trousers lock with ice. Strained against it, felt them crackle. The beast stalked forward. Its maw opened, shearing beak ready.
Something shot past her. A streak of green. The beast reared up on its hind legs, and something struck it in the chest and slammed it backwards.
Link. The sledgehammer was in his hands. A blue nimbus haloed him— she felt it like a bell against her soul.
He swung the hammer again, and with a ringing crack the beast's plating cracked open. Malice gouted from the wound. Link danced back. Dropped the hammer. Swung the Sword free of its sheath in the same instant.
She didn't even see him land the blow, but she felt it ringing in the air. The beast wailed. The ice that made up its body began to crackle, snapping off in little bursts and swirls of frost and floating towards the ceiling, until at last there was nothing. Link stood there, breast heaving, then turned towards her and sheathed the Sword.
The ice holding her in place shattered. Zelda stumbled, and Link lunged forward, catching her at the elbows and holding her up.
"Are you alright?" he gasped. She clutched at his arms and tried to catch her breath— she was shaking in every limb. He was trembling too, she noted. His face was scraped raw on the left side, she noticed. Particles of ice were still embedded in his skin.
"I— fine," she managed. "Goddess, I thought you'd been killed when it hit you—"
"I'm alright," he said. "Bruised, but— I thought I wouldn't make it. I couldn't get past it. I'm sorry—"
" Don't ," she said. "You saved my life, you dumbass— I would have been done for if you hadn't—"
" Alright ," he said, and pulled her into a hug.
She squeezed him back, then released, letting him go and retrieve the hammer, which he vanished back into the Slate. Then he turned back towards her and grabbed her hand, squeezing.
"Come on," she said. "We've got to get back to the other door. I— we can't have much time left, before Dragmire—"
"I know," Link said, and squeezed her hand more tightly. Worry had drawn a furrow between his brows.
He turned, back to their left, and as one they made for the door, their boots pounding on the swift-melting frost underfoot. The walls were melting too, Zelda noticed, rivulets of water rolling down and revealing pictograms behind them. Part of her wanted to grab the Slate off Link's hip, to snap pictures, but there wasn't time —
They made the door much more quickly than they had the first time, and Link slammed his free hand against it, hard enough that Zelda could see the shock of impact up his arm. His jaw worked, teeth gritting. The door didn't respond.
"Come on —" he breathed. His face tightened. "Come on, please …"
"The Slate ," Zelda said, and pulled it from its pouch again, pressing the face of it up against the door.
The crest of Nayru lit up instantly, bright blue against the brown surface, and the walls rumbled as the door rolled aside, sloughing ice from its surface. Link grabbed the Slate back, and together they hurried through, crossing the threshold into the room beyond. They hardly made it over, however, before Zelda froze. The pit of her stomach flooded with ice.
There was a heap of Malice in the center of the floor, surrounded by the shattered remains of a white tile. It seemed much, much larger than it had before— too large to have come from a stal. The surface of it gleamed slickly, loose swirls of magenta over the black shifting as it pulsed, an open wound to the viscera of the world. A globule of it rose slowly from the heap, like a droplet of water in reverse. An eye opened, yellow iris veined through with black and magenta, stark and staring against the wet black of its sclera. The heap pulsed again.
" Goddess ," Zelda whispered, and covered her mouth. Bile stung the back of her throat.
Link stared unblinkingly at the Dark Watcher, his blue eyes gone dark. His hand dropped to the Slate at his hip, and when he tapped the eye a bow materialized in his hand with a flash of light. He raised the bow. Nocked a broadhead. Drew. She could see his hands shaking.
He loosed, and the broadhead punched through the Watcher. Malice sprayed like blood across the floor behind it, and the heap began to shrink in on itself, burning away in flakes of shadow and light.
But not enough. A pile remained, just slightly larger than Dragmire would have been and throbbing like a heart. Knotted veins swelled across its surface.
Link's knees buckled. He dropped to the floor, shoulders heaving, the bow clattering from his fingers. His eyes flooded with tears. "...We're too late," he whispered, choking on the words.
Something roared in Zelda's ears, heat clawing its way up from her stomach and out of her throat. "We are not !" she snapped, and held her hands out in front of her. The heat curled its way up her back, spreading across her palms in a tide of liquid gold. "We are not too late— I won't let us be!"
Gold fell over her eyes like a veil, and the room around her burned brighter. Blue columns stood all around her, at the edges of the room, and some part of her knew they were Guidance Stones she hadn't noticed when they crossed the threshold. They whispered to her, but she ignored them, glowering at the heap of Malice before her.
It looked nearly the same to her goddess' eyes, thickly black and webbed through with magenta light, flowing and curling with vile energy— but she could see behind and beneath it now, to what it covered. To the form curled beneath the blanket of Malice, shining crimson and gold through the thick blackness over it. It too pulsed with energy. With life.
"We are not too late," she said, in the voice of a tolling bell, and thrust her hands forward, shoving.
The Malice resisted, curling up more tightly over Dragmire's form, and she saw a quickening beneath, the gold spreading and curling through the crimson light of him. She thrust again, stepping forward to drive the light. It curled and built within her like a wave, like a great wind, and she bared her teeth and felt the gold spill between them. The Malice arched and twisted, shrinking in on itself as it burned away under her palms, baring the black of Dragmire's armor, his coat, his body turned to face away from her, curled up on his left side. His cloak was gone. His ruby brooch clattered to the floor. Thick red hair fell loosely about his shoulders, fraying from its braid.
The light faded, burning away from her eyes, and she caught her breath and her balance to keep from falling, stumbling forward to roll Dragmire over to face her. He was breathing, she noted, and relief flooded her veins like meltwater. He didn't look injured, either— there were no Malice burns over any of the exposed skin she could see. His eyelids fluttered a moment.
Then he sat bolt upright, almost knocking her back, and gasped for breath, then coughed violently, like he was trying to expel Malice from his lungs. Nothing came up. He doubled over, heaving for air, until at last his gasps subsided. He raised his head, then, blinking dazedly at her and Link.
"Oh, thank Hylia," Zelda whispered.
Link darted past her like a shot, throwing his arms around Dragmire's neck and almost knocking him back over. " Goddess —" His voice was choked, Zelda could hear the tears in it, she didn't need to see his face. "Don't ever do that to me again, I thought—"
"—I'm alright—" Dragmire gasped. His arms flew up, wrapping tightly around Link and pulling him close. "I'm okay. I'm okay—"
Link gave another muffled sob and buried his face against Dragmire's neck. Zelda's heart clenched. She could see the way Dragmire's fingers tightened in the fabric of Link's coat as he pulled him even closer, and she bit her lip uncertainly, not sure if it was appropriate to leave them to it. Link's shoulders trembled— he was quiet now, but she was certain he was crying.
"...It's alright," Dragmire murmured gently. "I'm right here. I promise."
Eventually the shaking in Link's shoulders subsided, and he slowly raised his face from Dragmire's neck. His cheeks were wet. Dragmire reached up gently, cupping his face in both hands and wiping his tears away. There was a pause, and Zelda looked away as he leaned in, letting him and Link have what privacy she could afford them.
She turned her gaze to the rest of the room instead, taking in the space for the first time. The Guidance Stones she had seen through the eyes of the goddess were there, all glowing faintly with blue light— but her eyes were drawn to the wall behind them.
Every inch of space around the Stones was covered in pictograms. The stylization was similar to the murals her grandmother's expeditions had uncovered in relation to the Divine Beasts— the same blocky, stylized human forms, the curling shapes of beasts and other beings. There were five Guidance Stones, placed equidistantly around the room; two flanking the door, two midway along the walls, one directly opposite, and the pictograms behind each were different. The one to the right of the door, when she turned to face it, was familiar, the black wraithlike form of Calamity Ganon arched over the Guidance Stone, flanked by the shapes of the Princess who Carried the Blood of the Goddess and the Hero bearing the Sword that Seals the Darkness. The one on the left of the door was unfamiliar— she recognized the stylized shape of her ancestress from the other, but this girl bore wings like depictions of the Goddess. The shape of the Hero stood beside her as well, his head haloed by the form of the Triforce, and a blue-painted figure she didn't recognize arced over them both, wings spread to either side like a shield.
She turned, scanning the pictograms. Two more of her ancestresses— one holding the hilt of a broken sword in her hands, the other a sphere of light— two more Heroes, both rendered in varicolored paint. And then her eyes came to rest on the Guidance Stone opposite the door. The pictogram behind this one was different— there were no human forms in it at all. Instead, the Triforce was centered on the wall, a great beast curling around each piece. The stylized form of a boar stood rampant over Power, a great wolf howled beside Courage, an owl wrapped vast wings about Wisdom.
Something about the sight of it chilled her.
"...Zelda?" Dragmire asked, and she dropped her gaze back to him, meeting his unblinking golden eyes. He was still holding Link, she noted, but they were done kissing, and both of them watched her intently.
"Are you alright?" she asked, making her way back over to him.
"I believe so," he said, and stood slowly. Link pressed against his side, supporting him, and he swayed slightly before catching himself. "Just...dizzy. I feel like I struck my head on something."
"That fall alone should have done much worse than that, let alone the Malice," Zelda said, unable to keep the snap out of her tone. " How are you alright?"
Dragmire's cheeks flushed red, and he reached down and pulled down the edge of one of his gauntlets, baring a gleaming gold band at his wrists. Several pieces of amber were set into it, shining dully in the light. "Shield bracelets," he said sheepishly. "I...I must have activated them on the way down, but I can't remember now— but they're drained of energy, see, so they must have been active."
"...That makes sense, I suppose," she said. "And you're sure you're alright? No broken bones or anything?"
"Yes, I'm sure," he said. "Are you alright?"
"I'm...fine," she said.
Dragmire released his hold on Link, steadying himself, and Link let go of him in turn. He made his way over to her, pausing in front of her— and then his arms darted out and she found herself pulled against him in a tight hug. She hugged back almost on reflex, pressing her face against his shoulder.
"Thank you," he murmured.
"You don't need to thank me," she murmured back.
Dragmire sighed quietly, and his arms tightened around her a moment before he released her. Then he stepped back, gazing wide-eyed around the room. "...What is this place?" he asked.
"I believe it may be a repository of histories of the Calamity," Zelda said. She pointed to the first Guidance Stone, the one with the pictograms she knew. "This one is the story of the Divine Beasts, I recognize it from my grandmother's work. And these four—" she pointed, in turn, to each of the four Stones nearer to the door— "all depict a Goddess-Blood Princess and a Chosen Hero, so it stands to reason they have something to do with the Calamity."
"...So what about the other one?" Dragmire asked, and nodded towards the fifth and final Stone.
"...I don't know," Zelda said.
"It definitely doesn't look like any of the other ones," Link said. He reached down and tapped the Slate at his hip. "Want me to go and collect the information from that one?"
Zelda nodded. "Of course," she said. "We can't study it now, but if it contains a history we may want it later — especially because it's not like the others."
Link hurried over to it without further prompting, setting the Slate down into the glowing place on the pedestal beneath it. The face lit orange, and the Stone began to glow more brightly, lines of blue text scrolling down its face and coalescing at the tip in a brilliant blue droplet. This one swelled more than the one upstairs had— and the moment it dropped, a second droplet began to build at the tip. And then a third, after which the pedestal finally released the Slate into Link's waiting hands. He tapped at the screen a couple times, then looked up and met Zelda's eyes.
"...This thing's huge ," he said. "Looks like it's mostly text, but I can't read ancient Sheikah."
"Let me see?" Zelda asked, making her way over to him and peering over his shoulder.
The screen was filled with text, plain white characters on the Slate's marbled blue background. Link touched the right side of the screen, and the text blinked and changed. Zelda stared at it wide-eyed.
"...It could take years to translate this," she said quietly, reverently, and met Link's eyes.
He nodded. "Do you have any idea what it might be?" he asked.
Zelda hesitated, glancing uncertainly from the pictograms behind the Guidance Stone they had used to the others around the room. "...I'm not certain," she said. "It seems to have been included as part of a collection on the history of the Calamity, but the iconography is so different from the others..."
Dragmire snorted. "You really didn't listen to my aunts when they told you Hyrule's histories don't have all the answers," he said, making his way over to join them. He tilted his head back, looking up at the pictograms. "The Triforce is centered in this mural, and there are three beasts here— three beasts for three Bearers."
Something curled uncomfortably in Zelda's stomach, and she shot him a glare instead. "Forgive me for not being convinced," she huffed. "Let's wait until I've translated this before you go and get all smug with me."
Dragmire flashed her a sharp grin at that, but didn't deign to rise to her bait. "I suppose we can wait, then. After all, you two came here for a Flame, didn't you? Let's worry about that first."
"Right," Link said, and closed out of the text on the Slate. He opened it to the map again, waving Dragmire over to look. "So the elevator is somewhere in this room— the map's showing it here, but I can't tell where it might be..."
Zelda peered over Link's shoulder at the map. The elevators weren't well-marked on the higher floors either, just a different-colored patch on the floor inside an alcove. She studied the plan of the third floor again, noting the elevator on the outside hall. Then she lowered her gaze further, directing it to the floor beneath them.
"—Oh!" she said, and tapped the floor with the toe of a boot. "We're already standing on it. Look down, there's a Sheikah eye!"
Link looked down, and his eyes widened. He snorted and stepped back, revealing more of the Eye under his boots.
"Sure enough," he said.
He knelt carefully, resting the Slate against the floor, and the Eye lit up beneath him. The floor rumbled softly, and Link stood— just as the platform they stood on began to move. He lurched forward. Dragmire reached out and caught him. His other arm shot out to grab Zelda by the shoulder, holding her steady as the platform sank. The ceiling shivered over them, then rumbled shut, plunging them into darkness.
They descended into light. The fourth floor was lit by the spectral blue sconces that had been present in the other two temples, casting their soft but constant light across the room. The space was smaller than either of the other two had been— though they landed at the edge of the room, it was hardly more than twenty feet from their end to the brazier on the other end of the space. The wall at that end was dominated by another pictogram, like the ones upstairs in style, of the Triforce with Nayru's crest at the center, and it seemed to shimmer in the light. The rest of the walls were covered too, and Zelda couldn't help staring as the elevator came to a halt.
She recognized some of them. The motif of the Hero was familiar, scrawled across one wall— the silhouette of a youth, his sword upraised. The pigments that outlined his form seemed to shimmer in the cool blue light. On the other side of the room was a woman she thought might be Hylia— eyes closed in benediction, a harp held gently in front of her body. There was no Flame mural, she noted. The wall where it should have been was dominated by the mural of Hylia. When she stepped off the platform her boots rang on tile, and she looked down— and gaped at the carefully tiled mural spreading itself across the floor, a wide circle marked with the symbols of the Triune at even intervals around the outer edge, with the Triforce set in the center. Something about it nagged at her memory, but she couldn't place it.
"...Wow," Link said quietly, stepping off to join her.
"It's beautiful," Dragmire agreed. He took a few more steps and knelt, running a hand thoughtfully over the pattern of the mural on the floor. "Look at this. Din, Farore, Nayru...and these look like music staves, between the crests...and I know these symbols on the outer edge here— Link, do you think we could take a pictograph of this with the Slate?"
"Yeah, hang on," Link said, pulling the Slate out again.
Dragmire sprang back to his feet and moved off the mural, and Zelda stepped aside too, looking down to study it again as Link snapped his pictures. There were twelve symbols around the outer edge of the circle, placed so one rested above the crest of each goddess and three sat between, marking even intervals around the outside of the circle.
Something clicked.
"...I think I've seen a carving like this before," she said quietly. "In the ruin under the old Temple of Time, up on the Great Plateau— there was a door there, with something like this carved on it, but we couldn't get it to budge no matter how we tried, so we couldn't get past it to explore further."
"That's...odd," Dragmire said. "So what's this doing here , then?"
"I don't know," Zelda said.
Link turned off the Slate and dropped it back into his pouch, then reached up and unsheathed the Sword with a ring of steel.
"Alright," he said. "I'm going to activate the Flame now, and then...I guess it's back down to the trailhead lodge for the evening, and we'll make the trip back to Rito Village tomorrow?"
"I suppose so," Zelda said.
Link nodded at that and stepped forward, until he stood before the brazier, and raised the Sword skyward. The pictograms on the walls seemed almost to shiver in response, and the crest of Hylia lit up on the front of the brazier. The Flame leapt up in an instant, brilliantly blue and blinding, and Link thrust the Sword into it. He grit his teeth, seeming to strain against some force, holding himself steady as the fire danced around him, leaving him untouched.
There was a chime like a bell, ringing through Zelda's bones, and a burst of blue light that left her blinded for a moment.
When the glow faded, the Flame was gone as if it had never been.
And then, from behind them, someone began to applaud. The hairs on the back of Zelda's neck stood on end, and her palms felt damp inside her gloves.
"Oh, well done , boy," a voice said mockingly. It was neither particularly high nor deep, neither masculine nor feminine, lightly but unfamiliarly accented. And, somehow, it contained an undertone of steel, like a blade dragged slowly across a whetstone.
Zelda unslung her bow from her back and spun on her heel, nocking a broadhead in the same movement.
There was a stranger standing on the elevator platform, half cast in shadow.
They took a step forward, into the light, and Zelda's grip on her bow tightened. The being's size and features were Hylian, or nearly so— perhaps a little taller than she herself stood, with a heart-shaped face and upturned nose— but the eyes were black as voids and reflected no light at all, the skin pale like sun-bleached bone. The being's thin lips twisted in a cruel smirk. They flicked aside the length of lank, ash-white hair blocking their right eye aside and took another step forward.
The light dimmed, casting bloodstained shadows across the ruddy darkness of their cloak. Their footsteps made no sound on the stone floor.
"And, of course, he has his spirit maiden with him— this is the reunion of the era, isn't it?" the being said. Their empty gaze locked with Zelda's, and their upper lip curled. "How charming . Though I must say, you've changed quite a bit haven't you, Hylia ?"
"And who are you supposed to be?" Zelda snapped, and levelled her bow at them.
The being's eyes widened. They brought one long-fingered hand up, covering their mouth in mock surprise. "Surely you jest , Your Grace," they said, pacing forward again. "Because I certainly haven't forgotten you ."
Then they paused, and those black eyes darted up over Zelda's shoulder. The thin lips quirked up again.
"...Though perhaps you aren't the one most in need of the reminder," they purred. "So this is where you vanished off to, young master. You've given me an awful lot of trouble."
"...You're addressing me ?" Dragmire asked from behind her, and Zelda jumped. His voice had gone high and tight.
The being sighed and brushed their hair out of their eyes again, stalking forward again. "There's no need to play naive , boy, these wretched goddess-dogs won't lay a finger on you," they said.
"Hold it right there," Zelda snapped, and drew. The being paused and gave her a once-over, looking almost bored.
"Oh please ," they said dryly. "Hylia, you of all people should know better than to think your pathetic mortal weapons could even scratch my perfect form— but if you intend to act this much the fool then I suppose we're in need of a little reintroduction after all."
The being snapped their fingers and vanished in a shower of light. Zelda froze, holding her breath. Her arm shuddered under the strain of holding the bow at full draw.
Link yelped behind her, and Zelda spun again and loosed—
The being snatched the arrow out of the air, from their perch atop the brazier, and snapped the shaft in half.
"Weren't you listening ?" they snapped. "There is only one weapon in this room that could harm me, brat , and you aren't wielding it."
"What do you want ?" Dragmire demanded. The scent of ozone hit the back of Zelda's throat a moment later. She dropped her hand back to her quiver.
The being chuckled and vanished again, and Zelda whirled around, casting about for them. Their laughter seemed to come from every direction at once.
Dragmire gasped behind her, the sound cut off. Zelda spun back to face him.
The being had caught him from behind, one hand gripping his shoulder so tightly his armor creaked in protest. The other hand caressed his cheek almost tenderly, fingers shockingly white against his dark skin. Dragmire's eyes were wide, and he met her gaze with a look of panic.
"I am the Demon Lord Ghirahim, once master of this land your people called the Surface, the right hand and favored blade of Demise, King of Demons," they purred. "And I have come to reclaim my place at my master's side."
"—I think you have the wrong person," Dragmire breathed. His face had gone ashen.
The hand stroking his cheek dropped lower. Ghirahim took hold of his chin and turned Dragmire's face towards him. "You say that as if you don't already know who you are," he crooned. "Or are you so afraid to admit the truth around your little friends...Ganondorf?"
Zelda's guts turned to ice. Dragmire's gaze was still on her, his eyes wide with fear. She shot a sideways look at Link— who hadn't sheathed the Sword. Whose eyes were locked on Ghirahim like a hunting dog on prey. Those eyes flicked towards her a moment, glowing Guardian-blue, and he nodded sharply.
"Dragmire," Zelda said gently, "don't move."
Her bow came up before she even finished speaking, amber arrow on the string, and she loosed—
And shot clean through the space Ghirahim had stood the moment before; the demon vanished in another burst of light. Zelda could feel it now, the surge of energy in the air. The hair on the back of her neck prickled. She hurled herself aside, back towards Dragmire— as something slammed home into the tiles where she'd stood, shattering on impact in a burst of crimson light. Ghirahim dropped out of the air and onto the floor in a crouch, sharp teeth bared.
Link was on him in an instant. The Sword that Seals the Darkness rang like a choir— and slammed home against the edge of a black blade that hadn't been there the moment before. Ghirahim shoved him back, and Link stumbled. Brought the Sword about to bear. Another ring of steel on steel. The air filled with it.
Zelda dropped numb fingers to her quiver. Link pushed Ghirahim back, step by step, but they were still too close. She couldn't shoot.
Ghirahim vanished. Zelda cast about immediately, stringing an arrow, and braced.
The demon dropped out of the air behind Link. Before she could even shout, his sword came up—
"Stop!" Dragmire screamed behind her. The walls shuddered with the force, and Zelda felt it roll through her like thunder.
Ghirahim froze in place, sword upraised.
She could hear the soft scuff of Dragmire's leather boots on the floor behind her. "Leave," he snarled. The pulse of his power rumbled through the floor. " Now ."
Ghirahim's upraised arm shuddered, as if to follow through with a blow he couldn't let fall. He hissed in a sharp breath through bared teeth—
—And vanished in a burst of light.
The air went still.
Behind her, Dragmire made a soft, pained noise, and she turned around to watch him fall to his knees. Link darted past her to catch him, shored Dragmire up against his shoulder. Zelda hurried forward as well and caught his other side, supporting him between them.
"Are you two alright?" Link asked.
"I— fine, just shaken," Zelda said.
Dragmire shook his head in response. His fraying braid slipped forward over his shoulder, loose locks falling freely. Link reached down and cradled his cheek, lifting his head as it began to loll forward on his neck.
"Hey," he said gently. "Dragmire. Stay with me."
"...'M here," Dragmire rasped. "Listen...we can't stay here, he'll be back—"
"I know, I know," Link said. "Come on. Can you stand? I don't…" His eyes flicked up to Zelda's. "...We can't carry you back down the mountain."
Dragmire nodded, exhaling sharply, and shifted to get his feet under him. He rose slowly, and Zelda moved with him, pressing against his side to shore him up until she felt him take his own weight fully. She stepped back, then, but Link stayed close, pressed against Dragmire's side.
Zelda sighed quietly and picked her bow back up off the floor. Ganondorf , the demon had said. She glanced sideways at Dragmire, but he didn't seem to be paying her any mind— his head was bowed, shoulders slumped, and Link held him like he might vanish too if he let go.
"...Link, may I see the Slate?" she asked. "There has to be an exit down here somewhere."
"Right, right," Link said. He let go of Dragmire with one arm and fumbled the Slate from its case, holding it out for her.
Zelda took it from him and opened the map screen, switching the view back to single-floor. The only marks on the fourth floor, their current one, were the ones for the elevator, and she frowned. Surely they wouldn't have to go all the way back up through the temple—? No. There it was.
"On the wall behind the elevator," she said. She clicked out of the temple view, looking at the local map and frowning at the screen. "...Looks like it should let us out in Rospro Pass, almost back to the lodge."
"Thank Hylia," Link muttered. "A straight shot down to the bottom of the mountain. Dragmire, do you think you're up for the ladder back down?"
Dragmire's brow furrowed, and after a moment he nodded. "...I think so," he managed quietly. "I'm just…. drained right now."
"Well, you did chase off a demon," Zelda said. She reached out carefully and took Dragmire's free hand, leading him and Link back across the room and around the elevator platform.
She groped along the shadowed back wall, feeling around for the catch, until her hand pressed against a rounded protuberance sticking out from the rest of the wall. It gave slightly under her hand, and she pressed in until she heard the mechanism click. There was a soft sigh, and then a rumble, and the door opened. Bitingly cold wind blew in from the outside. She stifled a gasp and peered out the door.
The storm clouds, which had held the line north of Talonto Peak, had begun to roll down the slope towards them. Heavy flakes filled the air, falling in thick waves and half obscuring the terrain. The wind whipped up again, tugging at her. There were no other options. Zelda grit her teeth and stepped out into the storm, leading Link and Dragmire behind her.
The trek down the pass was more treacherous than the one up. Snow shifted constantly underfoot, pushed directly down the pass by the harsh winds, the guiding flags half obscured by sheets and gusts of snow and ice. She could hear Dragmire staggering behind her, and Link's swearing as he fought to keep them upright. Part of her wanted to drop back, to support them both. Instinct kept her ahead, bow clenched tight in her fist, her other hand on her quiver when she didn't need it for balance and eyes and ears alert to any disturbance.
Right now, she didn't fancy their odds against a lone wolfos, much less a pack of lizalfos— or, goddess forbid, something worse descending the mountain under the cover of the storm.
At last she caught sight of the flag that marked the start of the path, a blue and gold banner whipping over the wooden platform and the descent to the lodge. She stumbled onto it, nearly tripping at the edge of the platform as the drifted snow gave way, and clung to the railing beside the ladder as the wind yanked at her.
"I'll go down first, alright?" she shouted over the wind.
Link didn't answer her in words, but he gave her a thumb's up. Zelda nodded and turned, grabbing at the top of the ladder and beginning her descent. The wood shuddered and rattled at every step, at every gust of the wind, and was icy even through her gloves. Every step was an eternity, until she hit the drift at the bottom and lost her footing.
And then her grip. She dropped hard into the snow and rolled, scrambling back upright and nocking an arrow.
Something felt wrong.
Felt watched .
The ladder rattled, and she cast a quick glance upwards. Dragmire's dark form was visible through the gusting snow, descending the ladder towards her at an uncertain rate. Stops and starts. His steps were longer than hers, though, and within a minute he hit the bottom of the ladder and stumbled up beside her.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
"...There's someone here," Dragmire said quietly.
Zelda stilled. The ladder rattled again as Link began his descent.
"Where are they?" Zelda asked, just as quietly.
Dragmire exhaled through his teeth. "Near the lodge. The sapphire...I can feel the weight in the snow. They know we're here."
Zelda growled and raised her bow. "We know you're there!" she shouted, screaming over the wind. "Come out, or I'll shoot!"
There was no response. Dragmire stilled beside her, and she caught a flash of silver light before his hands clenched.
The snow beside the lodge heaved . A shape sprang out over the drift, a flash of pale cloth, and Zelda drew—
And lowered her bow immediately. The shape moved more clearly into view, resolving into the form of a woman in the plain, cream-colored travelling kimono the Sheikah favored. She was small, shorter even than Link, and her face was tattooed in the traditional red the Sheikah of Kakariko favored. She was bareheaded even in the cold, even with her silver hair cropped close to the scalp. The woman moved quickly over the snow towards them, practically running on top of it.
"Impa!" Zelda shouted. She slung her bow hastily over her back and darted forward, and Impa caught her at the shoulders and pulled her into an embrace.
"Your Highness," Impa replied, for Zelda's ears only. "Thank Hylia you're safe."
She released Zelda and stepped back, looking back at the ladder just as Link reached the bottom. He and Dragmire looked almost out of place, two dark figures pressed close together against the snow, and Impa's platinum brows furrowed sharply.
"You and I," she said softly, "will need to talk."
"Hey, Impa!" Link called. Zelda could hear the exhaustion in his voice. "Fancy meeting you here."
"I see you're getting my charge in trouble, as usual," Impa replied, and Link stumbled forward through the snow, Dragmire close behind him.
Up close she could see how worn they both looked— Link stumbling over his feet, Dragmire gone grey with fatigue— and she shot a sidelong look at Impa, waiting for her to say something.
Impa, to her credit, kept quiet. She led the way back to the door of the lodge instead, moving lightly over the surface of the snow, and opened the door to usher them inside.
The inside of the lodge was washed in warm golden light from the fireplace, and Zelda shucked her coat in its warmth, closing her eyes a moment to luxuriate in it. Link and Dragmire stepped past her, and Zelda glanced between them and Impa as the pair made their way over to the bed. Link was limping, favoring his right leg— he must have done something to the ankle during the fighting— and Dragmire supported his weight as much as Link supported Dragmire's.
She looked away again when they reached one of the beds, settling down beside the fire instead to unlace her boots near its warmth.
Impa settled down beside her a moment later, feeding another log into the flames. "I'm sure you know why I'm here, Princess," she said quietly.
"My father sent you to retrieve me," Zelda said, and sighed quietly. She slipped a boot off and set it to face the fireplace so it could dry out, then got to work on the other. "I'd been wondering when you would arrive."
"Too late to stop you getting into trouble, it seems," Impa replied. Her ruby eyes darted towards the bed, then back to Zelda's face. "The message from my contact in Parapa said nothing about you and Link acquiring a Gerudo companion, and I was under the impression that there were no men among them."
Zelda winced. "...That's King Dragmire," she murmured back. Impa's hands tightened on the kindling, which made an alarming creaking noise in her grip. "He... apparently the Gerudo high priestesses said his destiny and ours are linked, and he insisted on coming with us to the temple— Impa, we got attacked by a demon and it seemed like it was after him ."
Impa tossed the kindling into the fire, which sprang up around the new wood with a crackle. "That's disturbing," she said flatly, and cast another look at Link and Dragmire. Neither of them seemed to have noticed the conversation. "Why him, and not all three of you?"
Zelda exhaled, hissing between her teeth. "It called him its master," she said. "And it referred to him as Ganon ."
"And what do you think?" Impa asked. She shifted slightly, and Zelda got a glimpse of a knife— one of many she was sure Impa carried— hidden in a fold of her obi.
"I don't know," Zelda said, and shook her head slightly. "He doesn't feel like the enemy."
Impa nodded in return, and the hard lines around her eyes softened slightly. "...You should rest, Your Highness," she said. "We'll discuss this further tomorrow."
Zelda nodded and stood— she didn't want to argue. She swayed slightly, then caught her balance again, leaning against the chimney for support. The temple must have drained her, she thought, and she hadn't noticed, running too high on adrenaline until just this moment. She cast a look at the bed, where Link and Dragmire were.
They'd shucked their coats and down trousers, she noted, leaving them and their boots in a heap on the floor beside the bed. Link was hardly visible, now— as far as she could tell, he'd lain down and Dragmire had curled in behind him, leaving just enough space for one between his broad back and the edge of the bed. His thick, fiery hair had gotten fully loose of its braid to splay across the mattress, and Zelda shifted the length of it aside as she sat down and shucked her own outer garments. Even both tunic and chemise felt chilly after the warmth of Rito down, but she ignored it, sliding in under the covers and settling against Dragmire's back.
He was startlingly warm under her hands, warmer than Link usually was when they shared a bed, and she heaved a quiet sigh of relief and tucked herself closer, slinging an arm across his side. Her hand bumped up against Link's shoulder, and she felt him stir and then settle again. Dragmire made a soft humming sound in response, but otherwise didn't rouse, even when she picked herself up just enough to study his and Link's faces.
Then she settled herself down again, pressing her face into the hollow between Dragmire's shoulderblades. His clothing still smelled of amber and musk, and she noted, sleepily, that for all that he'd been engulfed in Malice, he certainly didn't carry its stench.
And then her eyes fell closed, and she thought no more on the matter.