June, 2020: Warning: Unedited. Low quality.

COUNTING STARS

Chapter 14: Prophet

Saturday, November 4th

"Did I hear what I thought I heard?"

"What did you think you heard?"

"What you said to Sheik."

"And that was. . . ?" I drawl out, intentionally playing dumb.

"That—that Sheik said I was hot."

I flinch, but she doesn't notice. "Uh. . . That doesn't ring a bell."

Zelda squints her eyes, too confused by recent events in order to catch my blatant lie. "Well I would hope not," she murmurs meekly, rolling over onto her back, hands lying on her stomach as she stares at the ceiling.

I turn to face her, looking into her sapphire eyes. "E-even if he did," I begin, "I mean, he wouldn't have known you two were. . . you know." I try defending him while consoling her.

Zelda nods despondently.

"Knowing that would be an instant de-rection," I jeer. She laughs quietly. I prop myself up on my elbow, looking downward at Zelda as she lies beside me. "And since Sheik didn't know, it shouldn't matter if he did say that about you, since that's what everyone else says."

She turns her head quickly to meet my eyes. "Everyone else?"

I freeze, having misspoken, despite the fact that it was the truth. I now realize how that sounded to her. ". . . Y-yeah," I admit, finding no way to lie my way out of my previous words. "Well, of course they'd say that."

Zelda blinks twice, then gives a small smile. She sits up in the bed, reaches out, and kisses me lightly on my lips. With one more smile sent my way, she lies back down, back turned to me.

I just sit there, dumbfounded, eyes incredibly wide in utter shock. She kissed me. Zelda kissed me. Blinking in surprise, I fall back down onto the bed, my eyes staring up at the ceiling, still dismayed beyond comprehension.

"I can't believe you took me here," Zelda's sweet voice says, arm wrapped around my waist.

"Anything for you, Zel."

We stroll down the beach, the breeze dragging our hair in its gentle wake. The sun begins to set, painting the horizon in a rich, citrus hue as the seagulls hovering overhead call for food. I reach into my pocket and withdraw a ripened pear, tossing it generously toward the hungry birds.

We stop, bare feet planted into the soft grains of sand. I run a hand through Zelda's blonde hair, looking deep into her eyes as she looks up lovingly into mine. "I love you," she says, before bringing her lips up to meet mine.

This moment could not be more perfect, I muse, as the sun falls beneath the horizon. Just perfect.

Night falls as we sit upon a rock overlooking the sea. My hand rests on her knee, hers atop mine. I sigh contentedly, at peace. Nothing could be better than this moment, tranquil and serene.

But the moment shatters.

Out of nowhere, gargantuan hands grip Zelda's shoulders, roughly throwing her backward. She yelps; my heart wrenches.

"Zelda!" I whip my head around to be met face-to-face with—of all people—my archenemy, the abhorred Ganondorf Dragmire himself. He towers over me as I scramble to my feet, my eyes murderously wild as adrenaline pumps through my veins.

He bellows a malicious laugh, grinning evilly at me as Zelda struggles to get up not too far behind.

"Protect her," orders a wispy voice, belonging to no nearby figure. "Protect her."

I look around in confusion. No one is here but the three of us: Link, Zelda, Ganondorf. Where could it have come from? Shaking my head vigorously to clear my mind, I set my eyes on Ganondorf's looming figure, baring my teeth viciously.

I take the voice's advice to heart, lashing out unrelentingly at the gang lord. He took my beloved uncle away from me. Now, he attempts to take my love. Every ounce of emotion left in my body is poured into my efforts to detain him, to strangle him, to kill him. Yet, my attempts are to no avail.

With a quick, sweeping backhand, Ganondorf sends me flying toward the shore, where my body skids in the sand. I grunt and wince, blinking to clear the grains out of my eyes.

The voice returns: "Protect her!"

"I'm trying!" I scream in frantic reply, forcing myself to my feet and breaking out into a full sprint toward my love. I run, feeling my muscles tire but I ignore them, focusing on one thing and one thing only and that's getting to Zelda!

But it is futile.

Ganondorf lifts Zelda's scrambling body up, and, slinging her over his shoulder, disappears in a plume of black smoke. And that's it.

I collapse, my world crashing down around me, as tears well up in my eyes and I grip the sand in my white-knuckled fists. I failed; I could not protect her. Sick with myself, I force my eyes shut and fall back onto the beach, releasing a cry of agony.

The hopeless sound of Zelda calling my name hauntingly rings in my ears.

Sunday, November 5th

I gasp for air, wiping the sweat off my forehead. Morning sunlight peaks through the window shades and spills into the guest bedroom, and I squint to protect my eyes. Turning my head to the left, I look for Zelda deliriously—she isn't here.

Frantically leaping out of bed, I barge out the door, searching the next room and coming up short. I bound down the stairs into the first floor living room, heart pumping. Then, experiencing the utmost relief, I discover Zelda sitting with Malon and Sheik at the kitchen table.

I sigh heavily, closing my eyes and holding my head to fight an upcoming headache.

"Link?" calls Malon's concerned voice. ". . . Are you okay?"

It was just a dream. Just a dream. Zelda is okay. Ganondorf doesn't have her. You do. You have her here, safe and sound.

She's safe, I mentally tell the voice from my dream. Thankfully it doesn't return for a reply.

"I—I'm fine," I murmur, running a hand through my dirty blonde hair while blinking the sleep out of my eyes.

"Gods, Link, you look like you haven't slept in a year," Malon comments.

I notice the two half-siblings have been abnormally quiet this morning, each inattentively looking my way and not bothering to contribute to the conversion. That's understandable. I expected awkwardness.

With a shrug, I admit, "I didn't get the best sleep last night."

"Relatable," Sheik mutters idly, drawing a glare from Zelda.

"Was the new information just that horrible?" she asks him, irked.

"No, I—"

"Because it doesn't really bother me that much—" Zelda pauses. "—aside from the fact that you called your half-sister hot!"

"Link—" He turns, sending me a frantic look. "What the hell?!"

I shake my head back and forth, head swimming, grimacing at the pain in my temples. Something makes my heart ache, and my mind sore. Unable to put my finger on it, I fall back onto the expensive sofa, holding my head in pain.

"Link?" calls a voice from the kitchen.

I lie there, looking up at the ceiling, blinking rapidly as my friends rush into the living room, concerned for my condition. Blurred figures, identifiable as Sheik and Malon, stand above me, looking on as Zelda rushes to my side. Struggling to keep consciousness, I focus on Zelda's bright blue eyes.

I inhale sharply, repetitively, gasping for air like a lost space cadet. "Link! Link! Are you okay?" Zelda's frightened voice calls distantly as I begin to fade.

Spots appear in my vision. "Link, breathe slowly. Listen to me. Breathe."

. . . Breathe. I try to take the advice, and gradually the pain in my head and chest subsides until I am fully aware. With a steadying breath, I blink once more, and I can see just fine.

Sitting up slowly, I look around, noticing my friends' concerned faces as I wipe a bead of sweat from my brow. Zelda sits directly in front of me, knees on the sofa, hands on mine. And, acting on instinct, I pull her close to my chest and hug her tightly, and she returns it. "Z-Zelda, you're okay," I murmur quietly.

"O-of course I am," she whispers, a little taken aback. "I was worried about you."

I'm still shaking from my recent breakdown of whatever sort. I literally haven't any idea what that was. And I'm scared.

"Link, I—" Sheik pauses. "I think you had an anxiety attack," he comments slowly.

I fix him with a puzzled look. Anxiety attack? Me? But. . . I've never had anxiety problems before, even after experiencing traumatic events. How could I have gotten one, then?

I look at Zelda, and as she gives me that worried look, it sparks a memory. My dream last night. Seeing her triggered the attack. I am quite sure of it.

I was afraid she was in danger.

Protect her, the voice had said. But. . . she's safe. So why did I have such a dream? Perhaps it was prophetic—I pray to the gods it wasn't prophetic. Hopefully it was just a warning of some sort—but of what sort?

Zelda pulls her head back to look at me. "Do you want me to take you to the hospital?"

"I'm okay. I think it was a one time thing." I send her a small smile for reassurance.

"Sure hope so," Malon says.

My eyes haven't left Zelda's. All I see when I look at her is that terrified face of hers, as she is being taken off by my nemesis, who I've sworn—and failed—to kill.

I pull her close and kiss her, lovingly, much to the surprise of Malon and Sheik. Zelda returns it, albeit more confused and worried about my wellbeing. I hold onto her tightly, as if I might have actually lost her.

Malon and Sheik step away, half-surprised, but wisely giving us this moment, anyway.

"The search for the green-clad suspect dubbed 'Hero' nears its one-month mark. Authorities believe he is targeting gang members, for unknown motives, and using excessive force. He is a threat to the public, and is armed and dangerous. If you have any information, you're advised to call—"

I flip the channel.

"This Hero guy—he's not the police, he's not a fireman—what gives him the right to interfere with other people's business?"

Flip.

"I think this Hero dude is misunderstood. People say he's terrorizing the streets, but he's going after gang violence! What's wrong with terrorizing a terrorist?"

Flip.

"Hero is a menace that needs to be caught."

I shut the TV off, trying to relax. All this commotion from the townsfolk, when all I'm trying to do is avenge my uncle. I sigh. Restlessly, I dial up Shad's number to gain some much-needed information.

"Link, it's been a while."

"Shad, what's going on in Castle Town?"

He pauses, then speaks slowly: ". . . You should know, since you're here—right?"

"Not currently," I admit.

"What kind of hero are you?"

"A good one. Shad, any activity? I've just got to know. It's killing me to be all the way out here."

"Surprisingly, no. It's been quite calm." He pauses. "Just where are you, though?"

"Lakeside, with my friends and g—" I cut myself off before I say the word girlfriend. Where had that come from? ". . . W-with my friends."

"What's more important? Your friends or our mission?"

Taken aback by his sudden insensitivity, I scoff. "I need to get away some time, Shad. Even my friends said I was working myself to death with this case."

". . . You're right," Shad sighs. "I'm sorry, Link. That was rude of me. You needed a break."

"Yeah."

"I've just been frustrated lately; no case has been this long—or this crucial—in my whole career as a detective."

"So. . . a whole week?"

"A month," Shad corrects. "Approximately."

I roll my eyes. "Your argument is irrelevant, then, bud."

"It's weird to think that nothing has happened lately," Shad muses, changing the subject. "Kinda makes me think something big is about to happen. Like it's the calm before the storm."

". . . Hope not," I mutter.

"C'mon, Dark, pick up your phone!" I growl as I'm repeatedly met with: I'm sorry, the number you're calling is not available.

Believe it or not, I'm actually quite worried about Dark's safety. Normally he loves the opportunity to chat with me, with his choices of conversational topics ranging from political issues to which color smells the softest.

Yes, that was an actual conversation Dark tried having with me.

Regardless, Dark should answer his damn phone.

"Link?"

I look up from my FiPhone screen to see Sheik, having just come up the stairs into the top-floor living room. "Yeah?" I reply.

He cautiously takes a seat beside me on the red couch. "Two questions. . . . How you feelin'?"

"Fine, now."

"Good, good." He looks down at his lap, then back at me. "Also, since when did you start making out with my sister?"

I point a finger at him. "Bro—Don't play the protective brother card with me when you didn't even know she was your sister until yesterday." I pause. ". . . Half-sister."

He raises both his hands. "Okay, fine."

"Last night. She kissed me," I explain. "I think she was pretty emotional after finding out about her mother. So. . . she kissed me."

He sighs, "Wow." A pause. "What are you going to do about it?"

I freeze, having never thought about what's next. ". . . I don't kn—"

"Link?" asks Zelda's quiet voice from the doorway. She walks into the room, sees me and Sheik sitting there, and stops. "Oh, I'm sorry."

"Nah, it's fine," states Sheik, getting up abruptly. "I was just going to go find Malon." He struts out of the room hurriedly, noticeably uncomfortable, and down the stairs, leaving me alone with Zelda.

We make eye contact. She smiles; I return it. "Are. . . are you feeling better?" she asks me, taking a seat beside me.

I look into her eyes. Seeing their deep blue color reminds me of the night sky, twinkling with stars. I nod. "Yeah."

"Good. . . . I was really worried," she admits. "I really do care about you, Link."

"I care about you too."

Buzz. . . buzz. . .

She smiles sadly, gaze falling. She takes a look at the end table, seeing my phone vibrate violently, repeatedly. ". . . Are you going to check that out?"

I shrug. "Might as well."

I pick it up, then read the screen. Instantly my eyes grow wide. "Uh oh."

"What?" Zelda asks, concerned.

"Fourteen new messages from Dark." I show her the screen. "I've been trying to get ahold of him all weekend."

I unlock the phone with the fingerprint scanner, then view the messages with trepidation.

hero

or should i say LINK?

if th1s is u

and if u R th1s shad0w's fr13nd

c0m3 2 th3 war3h0us3

Th3 shad0w is WAITING

the corner of korok and 9th street

Hope u can make it ;)

U hav 4 hrs b4 he's D3AD

cl0ck is t1ck1ng

lord dragmires words himself

but i aint dragmire im a messenger

jus clearin that up

~ M.O.D.

"You'd think he could put that all into one message," I mutter. "Dammit! I knew I shouldn't have left! I knew Dark would try too hard to be a hero while I was gone. Now look at him—I knew it, I knew it! Dammit!" I stand up abruptly, running a hand through my hair and groaning. I stop, squinting in confusion. "How did he know Hero was named Link?"

"Can you call Shad to bring the police to the warehouse?" she asks me.

I think about that. It would be a good idea to have backup. But in the unlikely event that Ganondorf is there, I'd want to kill him. The police can't be there for that. ". . . No."

"Oh." A pause. "We have to go save him!" Zelda asserts, desperate in the eyes.

At this moment I freeze, looking at the floor. What she said had struck me. We have to go save him. We have to. We. . .

Is this what having a girlfriend would be like for me? Her trying to be by my side while putting herself in danger?

I take a deep breath. This is why I can't. I simply can't.

"N-no, Zelda," I respond adamantly, not meeting her eyes. ". . . Stay here." I then turn to give her a serious look, implying my sincerity. She gazes at me, visibly hurt, as I steel my expression and look downward once more. ". . . Goodbye."

I turn and run.

So much for a vacation.

I now have around three hours and forty minutes after sprinting three miles into town and finding a taxi. "Castle Town, Korok and Ninth Street. Every red light you run is an extra five rupees," I'd told the driver.

From then on it's been smooth sailing. The two hour drive from Lakeside to Castle Town will have been nearly halved at the rate we're going, despite putting a dent in my small fortune.

Meanwhile I cannot stop thinking about Zelda. Saving Dark should be my priority, sure, but all I can think about is that the way I left her. . . it was hurtful. For the both of us. I could feel it.

This is how it's going to be, how it's going to end up. Hurtful. Somehow, someway, Zelda will be hurt. Whether in one circumstance it's me being harmed or killed and Zelda grieving—or worse, in the other circumstance it's me grieving for her.

I've already grieved quite enough in this life. Why risk for more?

Just over an hour and a half passes, and somehow we make it to Castle Town with two hours to spare. Now, it's a good thing I'm early, so it'll give me time to break in without getting caught in the trap—because there's certainly a trap. If the M.O.D. wanted to kill Dark they would have killed him already; they're clearly baiting me.

Ganondorf wants me. Looks like we've got something in common.

"Korok and Ninth Street, mah boy," grunts the corpulent driver. I pay him the large sum of rupees, with a less-than-generous tip, then hurriedly exit the vehicle.

Scrambling to change into my Hero garb, I duck into an alley. Once I've altered egos, I frustratedly realize that I left my bags and belongings at Sheik's. Shoot. Maybe Zelda will bring them to me.

Zelda. I sigh sadly. There she is again, popping up randomly in my thoughts. Getting over her will be harder than expected. . . . I'm speaking as if we had broken up. In a way, though, that's what it feels like.

With a huff, I exit the alley, putting the dark mask over my eyes and pulling my long green cap over my head. For convenience, and common sense, I ditch the cape (which was Dark's idea for us to have, anyway).

The warehouse, two-storied and long, sits predominately on Ninth Street, beside a club located on the actual corner of Ninth and Korok. Its brick exterior is aged, with moss growing up it in the alleyway, and every window is boarded up with scrap metal. The main entrance is a steel door in the center of the front wall. The whole building looks suspicious, and it's surprising the cops haven't busted the M.O.D. for squatting in it, but then again it could also look simply abandoned.

I try to find a good entry point. Sure enough, one of the window's sheet metal on the alley-side wall is bent in.

"And now for the moment I've all been waiting for," I say to myself, eagerly rubbing my hands together.

I head into the alley, look up at the second-level window, then jump. Thanks to my Triforce, I get three-quarters of the way there, find a foothold, then vault up to the window. I dangle from my hands on the ledge, then cautiously push in the sheet metal on the corner where it's bent. It bends more, until I hear an audible snap (thank the goddesses for my acquired strength). The sheet metal falls loudly onto the floor, and I hop in the warehouse.

On my toes, I expect someone to have heard that and come investigate. Surprisingly, no.

Having come in from the left window, I've landed on a wooden bridge-type-thing that hangs from the ceiling and borders the front wall. Crates stand to my left, and the front wall is to my right. Ahead of me, a figure sits dormant beside the crates in the other corner, the his eyes appearing to be closed.

It's eerily quiet, and I peer around the crates to look into the depths of the warehouse. It appears to be laid out like a Call of Duty map, with barricades strewn miscellaneously about. A large wall about halfway through the warehouse's full length conceals the remainder of the building's entirety.

Two unfamiliar men stand behind one barricade, visible from up here, and converse. "This trap better work, or we won't get that eight K."

"Relax. It'll work," the other man says. "All he has to do is break in through the front door. Do you even know who we're trying to trap?"

"I dunno. Based on the news, sounds like these guys have a feud with Hero."

These guys, he said. That means they aren't members of this gang; they were recently hired.

"I hate that guy."

"Me too. His costume is so stupid."

I frown, whispering back stubbornly, "You're stupid." Got him. I'm such a savage. Smirking in satisfaction, I continue listening.

"Dragmire arrives in ten minutes," one of them says. "Make sure he enters in the back. That's where his prisoner is. Plus, if he gets trapped in that electrical net, he would murder us."

Dark is in the back. Alright, then.

. . . They tried to catch me in an electrical net? Damn, no mercy.

"He's actually coming into this room through the cellar," replies the other. "Remember? He wanted to be here when the guy we're supposed to trap shows up."

"Then. . . did we leave the prisoner unattended?"

"Sakon's with him."

"Sakon's up there." The man points up at the opposite corner from where I am.

"Hrrngh?!" groans Sakon. I dart my head to look at him, but he's still asleep.

"Come on, we need to go to the prisoner."

"What about guarding this room until Dragmire gets here?"

"Sakon's got it."

"Hrrngh?!"

They leave, one taking a pistol and the other taking a sniper rifle. "My rifle's only got one round," he complains as they walk out.

Once the door shuts, and they're on the other side, I leap down over the walkway, dart around the barricades, and stop before the door. I try twisting the handle, but it's locked. "Dammit," I whisper.

Then, I remember Sakon. He must have a key.

I dart back over to where I was, this time to his corner, and climb up the stacked crates to get back onto the walkway. Sakon snores in his chair as I search his body for a key, but I come up short. Growing frustrated, I grip his shirt in my fist, yank him up, and drop him onto the crates I'd climbed up. He tumbles, grimacing, before sliding to the dusty floor, peeling his sleepy eyes open with a pained expression.

I hop down to the floor as he coughs audibly, rising to his feet. Chickens cluck loudly in a big wooden cage behind him upon sighting us. "Oh, it's you," he says. "What, uh, brings you here?"

"I've got two questions," I assert in an authoritative voice as he looks at me blandly. "The first—why do you have chickens?"

Sakon smiles, but his eyes lack emotion. "They're my pets." He turns to the cage. "This one is Jamal, this one's Annie, this is Franklin, Josiah, Roseanne, this one's Error—"

I shoot a small bolt of energy, aiming for his hand, but he yelps and jumps away. The bolt misses and splits one of the bars keeping the chickens inside. "Ah! Bad Hero," I exclaim as Sakon tries to run around me. I punch him square in the chest and he falls flat on his back, wheezing. I smirk to myself. "Good Hero!"

Squawk!

I turn around to be met with a swarm of chickens. "AAAGHH!" I yelp, smacking the vicious birds away with my arms as they peck and scratch me relentlessly. Then they all fly away, as I'm sure some of them earned a few injuries from my swings.

"Gahh!" I groan. Sakon uses this opportunity to pin me to the floor, lodging his elbow on my temple, restraining my arms, and putting his weight on me. "Ugh—" I look up at him. "What the hell is the matter with those chickens?"

Sakon smiles that emotionless smile again, replying, "They're angry. I only feed them cocaine. And chicken."

"What the fuck is the matter with you?" I ask incredulously.

"Watch your language."

"Fuck you!"

Sakon glares, reaching back for something I can't see. I take the opportunity to headbutt him, leap up, and kick him in the chest, sending him into the chicken cage. The bars split as he is propelled inside. "Gods," he says, fixing me with a puzzled look, "you're just a mean guy."

"I'm actually quite nice." I kneel down to be at eye level with him. "You're not as crazy as you were that day you shot up the Tri District."

". . . I had a little cocaine that day."

"Is this what you're normally like?"

"No," he says, smiling again, "I just popped a Xanax an hour ago." He closes his eyes and yawns, running a hand over his bald head. "Are you gonna kill me?"

"You're lucky I've got a soft spot, so I won't kill you. But if you don't do as I say you'll discover that I've got some hard spots too—" I pause, blinking. "That came out wrong. The point is do as I say."

Sakon chuckles, eyes still closed. "Whaddaya want."

Gods, this guy is high out of his mind. "I want the key to that door back there."

"Right on the chair where I've been sittin'," he answers slowly.

"Thanks for your cooperation." I stand up, then decide that Sakon should be kept under control. So, I find the biggest, heaviest crates possible, and push them to make them cover the broken side of the chicken cage, walling him off and trapping him in. Him being asleep again made it pretty easy to do.

Maybe I am pretty mean.

Oh well. I hop back up to the walkway, snatch the key from the chair, then hop back down. Taking a look at the key, I notice a crescent moon engraved on the top, the gang's symbol.

I walk toward the door, devising a plan for when I enter. Although, I don't even know what's on the other side. Shrugging, I decide to just wing it. That's seemed to work in the past.

I hear muffled voices suddenly. Pressing my back to a barricade, which is between me and the door, I seal my mouth shut and listen. The sound of a wooden door creaking open comes to my ear, and the voices suddenly get much louder, coming from behind me and to the right. Seemingly, beside the door I'm heading to.

"Aha, please," laughs the familiarly deep voice of a woman. "I can hold my own against him."

A scoff. "You sure couldn't last time," refutes a powerful voice.

My chest tightens, eyes widening. That's Ganondorf, isn't it? Has to be; those goons even said he was coming.

Am I ready to kill him?

"I—Believe me, I can," the female assures him, taken aback.

"Really. Because a certain failed assassination comes to mind."

"He was moving around too much—"

"He isn't here," Ganondorf grumbles. "I'm tired of waiting. Tell the guards to kill the shadow."

"Y-yes, my lord."

Dark first. Ganondorf later. I keep my back glued to the crate, then freeze as a giant figure walks right beside me and past me, unaware of my presence. My heart leaps into my throat as I clench my teeth until they nearly shatter. Ganondorf, in his huge business suit, strides toward the front of the warehouse, a permanent frown set prominently on his ash-colored face.

My gaze lingers on his back as I fantasize about thrusting the giant nose of a marlin into it, seething in anger, before I tiptoe around to the other side of the crate and silently hurry to the door. I unlock it, slowly opening it to the other side.

Inside, crates are stacked immediately to the left and right of the door. Looking up, I see the bottom of another wooden walkway. In front of me, a chair sits in the middle of the room. In it, Dark sits with his arms chained behind him, legs chained to the floor, head pointed downward. One of the guards, gun in his hand, stands next to the chair, as the woman from earlier gives him the orders. I recognize the woman as Veran, the one who tried to assassinate me at Mikau's concert.

I hastily climb the crates, being careful not to attract attention. Once at the top, I leap up, reaching for the edge of the walkway. I grab the edge with both hands, then lift myself up—before remembering that there were two guards.

"Hey—" he says, before I dash toward him, clamping a hand on his mouth and knocking the rifle out of his grasp. I spin and throw my elbow at his skull, and it connects with his temple with a hard smack. His eyes roll back and he collapses onto the wooden planks. I dust my hands off, looking down at him with disdain.

I look below, noticing that Veran is gone, and the guard is speaking to Dark. I dart over to the discarded sniper, pick it up and check the clip. One bullet. Swearing to myself, I shove the clip back into the rifle.

Turning my head, I notice wooden planks covering part of the concrete wall. Curiously, I rip the planks down, discovering a gaping hole that gives a perfect view to the other end of the warehouse.

Ganondorf stands in there with his back turned. Behind me, the guard raises his gun and points it at Dark. Two targets. One bullet.

Can I shoot Ganondorf and sprint down and get the guard? No. The guard will kill Dark first.

I have a choice, and I have approximately one second to make it. Kill the murderer of my uncle, or save my friend?

A gun is fired.

"It sounds that the deed is done, my lord," announces Veran smugly. Ganondorf gives her no answer. ". . . Hello? My lord?" Still no answer.

I drop the gun, my eyes wide in horror. I had never shot a gun before, or even a person, no less.

"Relax, Veran. I live," says Ganondorf's voice from the other side.

I'd made my choice. With a trembling body, I leap down to the first level, hurrying over to Dark. The guard lies next to him, clutching his arm in pain, still alive, but barely holding onto consciousness. I leave him like that, but must make haste. It won't be long before Veran or Ganondorf hears him.

"Dark, where are the keys?" I ask him.

"He has 'em," Dark says, gesturing with his head toward the guard.

I find the keys on his belt, take them, and free Dark from his shackles. "Let's go."

"I'm sorry, Link."

"For what?"

"Being a failure."

"Well, what's new?"

"How hilarious."

"Jokin', bud," I tell him with a grin. "Don't beat yourself up. That's Ganondorf's job."

"No kidding," he agrees, showing me his bruised face and blackened eyes, which he's been trying to hide from me.

"Gods," I comment idly. ". . . I could've killed him, you know."

He sighs. "Should've."

"You wouldn't have survived if I used my bullet on him."

"Bring more bullets next time, then, dumbass."

I chuckle. "Same old Dark."

"Even darker now," he says amusedly, showing me his black eyes again. "Link, you saved me."

"Lil' bit," I reply with a shrug.

"You know what this means?" he asks. "I owe you my life."

"Yeah, no thanks. I've seen it and I'm not too impressed."

Dark rolls his eyes.

I jog to a boarded-up window, Dark in tow, and kick in the sheet metal. It pops right off, and we squeeze through and out it.

"Call your detective," Dark orders. "Get the police here to get Ganondorf."

"No," I reply a little too quickly. "I want him for myself."

Dark nods affirmatively. "Alright, then."

The moon hangs prominently in the night sky, surrounded by the smaller, scattered-about stars, spilling blue light upon the two of us as we slowly trek up the sidewalk.

I check my watch—10:42 PM. It won't seem like a booty call, right? I go for it anyway, and knock on Zelda's door.

"Who is it?"

"Link," I answer.

"No."

I blink, taken aback. Did it seem like a booty call? It probably did. I knock on her door again. "I just want to talk to you." No answer. "Zel, come on."

"No."

I sigh, defeated, turning my back. Why had I even come here? I thought I told myself to quit advancing things with Zelda. Although, I can't manage to get her out of my head, nor could I stop my feet from bringing me to her door earlier tonight.

Should I give in to temptation?

My heart says yes but my brain says no, and I say yes but I also say no, and I've just been so. . . confused. I don't know how else to put it.

But, for now, I'm doing what my heart wants, and what my conscience feels is necessary. I'm going to talk to her. I feel like I owe her at least an explanation for my recent actions.

So I exit the females' dorm building, and take a walk—to the side of the building. There, I look seven windows left, and four up, and see Zelda's window. Time for a late-night workout.

Whoa, not how it sounds, folks. I meant that I was about to climb up to her window.

I take a few steps back, then break off into a full sprint toward the wall, leaping up, finding a foothold on the windowsill, vaulting up, and repeating twice more, until I arrive at Zelda's.

Luckily for me, it's open. "Coming in!" I announce, crawling into her room as Zelda yelps.

I tumble to the floor, look up, and see Zelda pointing her hairdryer threateningly at me. I blink. Putting both hands up, I say, "Don't shoot. I'm unarmed."

She throws the hairdryer at me, and it collides with my face painfully. "Ow!—okay, I deserved that. But Zelda, please let me—" I stop, catching sight of her face. Her nose is pink, eyes are slightly puffy, mascara subtly smeared. She had been crying.

"W-what?" she asks in a small voice.

I immediately stand up and walk over to her, pulling her into a tight hug. She is hesitant, but returns it. My hands run along the soft silk of her shirt as she does the same with mine. "Zel, I'm really sorry."

She sniffles. "What for?"

"Abandoning you on our vacation, and not letting you come with me."

"That rings a bell."

I pull away, looking deep into her eyes, wiping a lone tear from her cheek with my thumb. "I'm sorry."

"Dark's okay, right?"

"Yes."

"Then it's fine."

I sigh. "Zelda, I'm going to be honest. . . . I've been really confused lately."

She nods, understanding. "It shows."

I smile, then it fades. "I've been doing a lot of thinking lately. It's just something I can't stop myself from doing."

"What about?"

Shaking my head, looking away, I merely reply with: "Myself, my feelings, and what I aim to do." I can't bring myself to tell her that I'm having doubts about the two of us.

She squints, noticeably confused, but decides against pressing the matter. "Um. . . Okay," she says, then pauses. "Do you want to stay over? Your bags are already here, since you left them at Lakeside."

"You brought them?"

She nods, smiling.

I return the smile, looking down. "Well, um, won't Karane come by?"

Zelda shakes her head. "No, she's been staying with Lulu lately, keeping her company." Her eyebrows raise. "Is that a yes?" she asks hopefully.

"Yeah," I reply, grinning, "I'll stay over." Her face lights up, and she reaches up on her toes, and kisses me lightly.

As my mind chastises me, my heart leaps for joy.

Monday, November 5th

"So you left, huh?" Sheik asks me in the front row of Mr. Lux's history class.

"I figured that you were having some family bonding to do," I reply with a sly smirk.

Sheik frowns. "Do you know how freakin' awkward it is with me 'n Zelda now?" He shakes his head, looking down. "Ever since you told her what I said back then."

"I didn't tell her; she heard!"

"Whatever. I still can't believe you abandoned me."

"Sheik, I—" I exhale slowly. "Dark was in trouble."

"What?"

"I had to go save him," I explain. "That's what made me leave."

"Wait, hold up. How was he in trouble?"

". . . The M.O.D. held him hostage."

"What? Why?"

I shrug, despite knowing the answer. I'm still going to protect Dark's secrets. "What can I say? They're thugs."

The bell rings, and we're dismissed from second period. Sheik and I exit the classroom, then wait for Mido and Mikau, who are always slower due to sitting in the back. When they emerge from the sea of outpouring students, they greet us sleepily, having been seemingly dozing off in class.

"Link," Mido says, "did your nose get hit?"

Confused, I touch my nose, feeling a bruise along the bridge. Then I remember Zelda. "Oh, yeah, just. . . a. . . hairdryer incident."

"Uh, alright."

Mido and Sheik head off to Mr. Masca's class, leaving me and Mikau to head to Ms. Spirit's math class.

"Link," says a voice from behind me. Mikau and I turn to see Zelda, holding her math book to her chest and looking up at me. "I, um, want to talk to you before class starts."

Mikau claps a hand on my shoulder, saying, "Don't worry, bro, I'll leave you be," and heads off.

"Catch you in third," I say. I turn to Zelda. "What's up?"

"Do you like filet mignon?" she asks randomly.

I blink. "W-what's a flaming yawn?"

Zelda giggles, "That's so cute! Oh my gosh, you are so Ordonian." She tries to contain her laughter as she only sees my thoroughly-confused expression. "Say it with me: fill-ay min-yawn."

"Fill-ay min-yawn," I repeat.

She nods, still grinning. It's actually pretty adorable. "Filet mignon."

"Filet mignon."

"It's a type of steak. My dad's cooking it tonight."

"Why couldn't you just say steak?" I ask.

"Because it's a certain type of steak," she answers, giggling again. "Anyway, my dad's cooking it tonight and I'm wondering if you'd like to join us. I'm not much of a meat eater, but—"

"Well that's unfortunate!" interjects Pipit, eyebrows raising suggestively, walking by at the worst possible time. Zelda shoots him a death glare as he walks away with a proud grin on his face.

"—but I figured you'd enjoy some. . . flaming yawn." She smiles warmly, teasingly.

"I'd love to join you," I say before I can stop myself.

"Great!" she exclaims, face lit up.

My heart is ecstatic, but my mind races, recurring thoughts of doubt and confusion constantly plaguing my mind—

Link, what are you doing?!