COUNTING STARS

Chapter 25: Bandit

Sunday, December 16th

"I can't believe this is what you got for me," Zelda grumbles beneath her ninja-like mask. Blonde hair tumbles out the sides of the opening, her exposed green eyes glaring at me sharply. The remainder of her attire is a deep blue, skin-tight jumpsuit—which I must pry my eyes away from at certain angles—complete with a red Sheikah eye emblem on the torso.

Her petulance brings an amused smirk to my face. "The abandoned costume shop had it out on display. Why don't you like it?"

"I look like my brother."

A mental image of Sheik appears beside her, and I compare the two with a grin. "Maybe that's why you're so annoying."

We stand in my dorm, preparing to embark for Hyrule Castle. Jaw tightened, Zelda looks me up and down, then says, "And your face looks like a girl's. Maybe that's why you compensate by being rude."

I shrug off the playground insult, but add nevertheless, "That was pretty rude, yourself." Might as well keep the game going.

"Put your stupid suit on. I don't want to be the only one looking like I'm going to some cosplay festival."

"Sure, Zelda. Don't want any judging bokoblins to lower your self esteem," I tease, pulling off my long-sleeved shirt and exposing my bare chest.

Her eyes linger for a brief moment. "You can change in your bathroom, you know."

A crooked smile splays out across my lips, and I gather my bundle of Hero clothes in my arms. "Now you're trying to lower my self esteem." I shuffle past her, enter the small bathroom, and shut the door behind me.

One awkward, uncomfortable outfit change later, I exit the bathroom, and stop. Furrowing my brow, I find Zelda staring at the bulletin board on the wall above my desk. Curious, I make my way toward her. "What are you looking at?"

She turns, and I stop at her side. Pulling the mask down under her chin to reveal most of her face, Zelda points to a ripped-apart sheet of paper in the middle, barely hanging onto the board by its thumb-tacked corners. She places a pale hand on one of the sections, lifting up the distressed paper to show a considerable chunk of the once-completed graphite sketch. "You tore this up," she comments, tracing her thumb over the bearded chin of a man's portrait.

"It's the sketch-art of Ganondorf I'd gotten from Shad," I explain steadily. "He's dead now, so I don't need it anymore."

Zelda nods, chilled. Then, with notable intrigue, her eyes flick to a separate part of the bulletin board, a section I'd squared off for Dark. When he wasn't being an idiot, Dark's favorite pastime was mindless sketching. Realistic, fine-detailed drawings of Sheik and Malon, Pipit, Mido, and Mikau, and Midna and Dark all are tacked into that corner. But Zelda's attention is drawn solely to one drawing, the smallest of the bunch, located in the very top of the corner.

It's of me and Zelda, sitting on a bench at Castle Park, my arm draped around her shoulder as we laugh joyfully. I'd previously asked how Dark had envisioned us in this setting, confused about if he'd seen us in the park like this, but he'd told me he drew it from his imagination alone.

I gulp uneasily. "…Dark drew these," I tell her, rubbing the back of my neck, abashed.

The unasked question—why hadn't I taken it down—hangs in the air far too blatantly to ignore.

"It was too good of a drawing," I explain, gaze averted. Or that's what I wanted to believe.

Despite being seventeen, I'd never learned how to drive.

But when the city is nearly devoid of traffic following a terror attack, opportunity is sprung upon you in the form of empty streets and an abandoned Mustang. Zelda, impressively, knew how to hotwire the retro vehicle—which was, I admit, kinda hot—and once we plopped in on the leather seats, I took off with a graceless lurch.

I look over at Zelda, her seatbelt tightly strapped over her body, her fist firmly clenched around the ceiling grip. "Who taught you to hotwire?" I call over the sound of the raging motor.

She meets my eyes, sending me a look of horror. "Focus on the road, idiot! And slow down!"

I chuckle, refocusing my gaze forward. "What—you think I've never driven before?"

"Well, have you?"

"Nope."

Ignoring the petrified look she sends my way, I buzz down the streets, having already committed the way to the Tri-District to memory. Swerving between monsters (while perhaps grazing the sides and limbs of a few here and there), I whirl around a corner, nearly rolling the vehicle. Driving this fast is really bringing out a rush within me—my adrenaline is spiking, my heart is hammering, and my lips are smiling.

Zelda, meanwhile, does not appear to be the happiest of campers.

Despite my fundamental pettiness, I decide to slow down and ease her fears, finding some sympathy. I reason that the goddesses' chosen ones dying in a car crash would not bode well for the rest of the city. Once at a manageable thirty miles per hour (under half what I'd been going), I turn to the girl beside me. Her eyes are closed, and she exhales in relief.

You know, driving isn't all that hard. I think I'm actually getting the hang of it. Funny how—

"Link!" comes Zelda's frightened cry.

I slam on the brakes, thrusting my palm into the wheel to sound the horn. Our bodies are thrown against the seatbelt as the Mustang screeches to a halt, then rocks back, stationary. Breathing heavily, I gaze out the windshield to locate what had prompted Zelda to yell. Merely a yard away, a small man wearing a green business suit is kneeling in front of his bike, frozen in place as he stares wide-eyed at the car. Then, he stands up, putting the air pump he was using into his fanny pack.

Every new driver will eventually get his first dose of road rage. This is mine.

"This idiot stopped in the middle of the road to fix a flat tire on his bike?" I say, fuming, looking over at Zelda with incredulity.

The little man gets on his bike, pedaling up to my side of the car. He wears two green top hats, I notice strangely, each looking like they're about to fall off the side of his disproportional head.

"Link," begins Zelda, traces of worry creeping into her voice, "just keep driving."

By now, he's already made his way toward us, and I'm still pretty set on giving him a piece of my mind. Guarded, I watch as the little man taps a finger on the window, ducking down a bit to look me in the eye. Slightly distracted by his orange handlebar mustache, I roll the window down, but only halfway.

"Hey," says the guy in a squeaky voice, "you need to look out for me. I'm part of the road, too."

"Dude, I'm gonna make you part of the road."

The little man smiles, raising an eyebrow. "Now that's not very… heroic."

I frown, ill at ease. He knows me, of course, but something feels off. So, hesitantly, I prod, "Who are you?"

He bows emphatically. "Malladus Cole," he answers. "I'm a big fan of yours, Mr. Hero. You've accomplished so much of what we could not!" The little man clasps pale hands together, feigning a pleased demeanor, but it only ends up coming off as suspiciously devious.

I share a look with Zelda, noting the caution written on her countenance. Perhaps venting my anger on this creepy stranger isn't worth keeping Zelda in fear. Driving off would be best for the both of us. But the curiosity within me urges me to turn back to Cole. I frown at him, questioning, "We?"

He grins pearly whites. "Mhm. You fit with us so well, Mr. Hero. You certainly do help us, us guardians of anarchy, get what we desire."

Instantly, my eyes widen. Guardians of anarchy. He's in Yuga's gang.

Cole notices my change in disposition, because on cue, his eyes flash to dark, intimidating slits, and he shoves his face forward until we're only separated by the glass of the half-opened window. Zelda stifles a gasp as the little man loses all formality and sanity, voice deepening to a chilling tone as he growls, "Figured it out, did ya, boy?"

Instincts taking over, I quickly lift my hand and summon a bolt of energy.

Unfazed, Cole daringly leans even closer and scoffs. "What are you gonna do? Shock me, then bring the police here, like you always do? They've all scattered. Kill me? You don't have the will. I know what happened the last time you killed a man, weak-hearted cretin."

All I can do is stare dumbly at him with wide eyes beneath my black mask. I actually don't know my next move. I'm frozen in place, since I've never thought this through. How will I deal with these rampant gangsters? Should I flee, and leave him to terrorize the civilians? Fight him? If I choose the latter, and win, what do I do with his body?—alive, of course! Goddesses above, Cole has me right where he wants me.

Not waiting for any response, Cole throws a punch aimed straight at the window. The glass shatters, spilling into the car and onto my lap, and he lunges forward and clutches at my neck in a tight, suffocating grip.

Reacting quickly, I slam the gas pedal, and we lunge forward. Cole's arm gets smacked away by the forward momentum of the car, and I can breathe once again after leaving him in the dust. Without looking back, I dart between different streets, wanting to get out of there as soon as humanly possible.

"Why did I let you drive?!" she yells over the harsh sound of screeching tires.

"Yeah, seriously—why didn't you offer to drive? Is it because you're a woman? That's sexist, Zelda!"

"What—That doesn't—Shut up!"

I carefully dust the remaining shards off my lap, trying to balance focusing on not slicing myself and staying on the road.

Zelda's voice suddenly cries, "Link—!"

I look up right as we slam into the body of a bokoblin, and it gets sent flying about twenty feet before disappearing into a plume of purple smoke. I slow to a stop, shocked, though the car seems to still be working fine. Probably just a busted headlight and a dented grill.

Heart hammering, I turn to Zelda, whose chest is heaving up and down in ragged breaths. I force a meek smile. "…Sorry?"

As my gaze drifts back out the windshield, a scowl wrinkles her features and irritation flashes across her eyes. "Link, we're not in that much of a hurry—"

"Bokoblins!" I shout, pointing forward. Zelda turns her head. Emerging from the alleys are several packs of bokoblins, all wielding discarded materials or misplaced items as makeshift weapons, bounding toward our automobile to avenge their fallen comrade.

"What do I do—What do I do?" I sputter, panicking and looking to Zelda for answers. "Mow 'em down?"

"No!" she says. "This old thing will shut down! Put it in reverse!"

"Reverse?"

"There's no way you don't know what reverse is!"

"It's the 'R' on the Pringles, right?"

"Pringles—it's the PRINDL, idiot!"

With that, Zelda reaches for the gear stick and shifts from the letter 'D' to 'R' and lightly hits me in the chest for confirmation.

"Go!"

Instinctively, I slam on the gas pedal again, but this time we're propelled forward as the car lurches backwards. I slam my forehead against the steering wheel, honking the horn accidentally. Looking in the rearview mirror, I guide the busted-up Mustang back down the road, and the cluster of monsters is getting smaller. I start to relax.

"Now put it in drive and go turn down that road," Zelda says, pointing to the left. She meets my gaze with a miffed look. "That's the letter 'D' on the shifter."

I ignore the urge to make an inappropriate pun about the letter 'D' and do as she says, albeit very blunderously. Peeling off toward the adjacent street, I guide the vehicle in the general direction of the Tri-District, not entirely sure how to get there from here after our numerous mandatory detours.

"This is crazy. This is crazy!" I look toward Zelda, frantic. "How the hell did the world come to this?"

"Now's not the time to be having deep thoughts, Plato," she reprimands. "Please just get us there safely."

I ignore her little jab (something about Play-Doh?) and set my eyes firmly on the road. Get us there safely. Okay. I can do that… I will do that. Seriously, how idiotic of me to be freaking out this much when I'm responsible for another person's life. I sympathize for Zelda. Goddesses, how I must've scared her. Part of me doesn't regret it, though, that competitive and stubborn part of me that wants to rub everything in her face and brag. And she has her heartless moments as well. But ultimately, none of that matters. Not only do I wish to keep her out of harm for the sake of the city's fate, but also because I am fairly certain that I have lingering feelings for her. Even now, after long arguments and name-calling, when I look upon her sea-green eyes I feel lighter, giddier. I regret nothing, however, when it comes to how I handled our relationship thus far. By staying detached, I firmly believe that I could very well have saved her life. Not all heroic acts have to be catching dangerous criminals or rescuing princesses from towers. Modern day heroes are everywhere, those who would sacrifice their deepest desires in order to protect the ones they hold dear.

Seven minutes of silence brings us to the familiar cobblestone roads of the olden Tri-District. The familiar gigantic spires of the grand castle loom high overhead. "We've gotta continue on foot," I announce after slowing to a stop. "The first manhole cover we see, that's where we're hopping in."

Zelda blanches, face contorting in disgust. "Why can't we get as close to the castle as possible first?"

"We saw yesterday. Guards are everywhere around the walls, and the monsters are right near them."

Zelda desperately wants to argue some more, but stays silent. I don't blame her for her reluctance to go down into the sewers. It's nasty. But practicality rules over comfort.

We shut the doors, bidding the thankfully-durable Mustang farewell, and step out into the brisk winter air. "Glad to be out of that death machine," I mutter darkly, beginning the trek down the road.

"Right. I'd much rather be in a sewer," comes Zelda's sarcastic reply.

"Don't be so negative."

She sends me a pointed glare. "How could I possibly be positive about this situation?"

I shrug. "I dunno. I mean, the reward is pretty good. So you don't have to be so down in the dumps—"

Her glare intensifies.

"…Poor choice of words," I say, flinching. "My bad. But think of what we'll get from this."

"Cholera."

"No, Zelda, your Triforce." Looking away, I add, "And then, you know… you can help me."

Zelda raises her eyebrows. "Oh?"

"It's like what we talked about last night." I swallow hard, then meet her eyes. "I'm not a superhero and I'm not invincible. I'll need your help."

The smallest, tiniest hint of a smile perks up on her lips, but it disappears as quickly as it came. She turns away, nose high in the air. How I wish she could see her own stuffiness. "My assistance will have nothing to do with you, for the record. I simply want to fulfill my duty and make this city safe again." A pause. "That is all."

I frown slightly, but otherwise show no emotion to her harsh words. "…Right," I answer plainly.

After a short walk, luckily uncontested by any lurking beasts, Zelda and I come upon a manhole cover in the middle of the desolate road. I lead the way toward it, then kneel down, putting my hands inside the openings. With one big hoist, I attempt to lift it, but two bolts are keeping it secured to the ground.

Zelda, watching from behind, sighs. "You're going to need a special drill. Why didn't you think of that?"

Ignoring her, I grip one of the bolts with two fingers, then twist it. The heavy-duty screw comes right off, and I repeat the process with the next bolt. Now, swiftly lifting the cover up out of the ground, I rise to my feet, turning to give Zelda a smug, wordless look. She rolls her eyes as I drop the metal disc off to the side. Then, I lower myself down the manhole, grabbing onto the rusty rungs of the metal ladder leading down to the sewer. Zelda follows soon after, though very slowly and reluctantly.

It's dark. Musty. Smelly.

What other descriptive words need I say? Shitty? There. I got it out of the way.

I set foot on the slippery stone walkway, hearing the roar of sewage tumbling out of pipes and into the wastewater rivers. Stepping out of the way to let Zelda join me, I pull out my FiPhone, activating its flashlight and pulling up the pictures of the maps.

Zelda drops down beside me; I look over, but her face is shrouded in shadow. "Just tell me how long this will take."

"An hour at most," I answer as I line up the maps, planning a route. "In the sewer, that is. I'm sure the castle will probably take two. Then it'll take us one more to get home."

"What time is it now?"

"Three-thirty."

Zelda scoffs. "Do you expect us to go home during curfew?"

"What can we do? Spend the night with the king?"

"You should've planned better," she mutters.

I sigh, miffed. "We were making good time until we ran into some complications."

"Literally."

We begin our trek, traveling down the walkways until coming upon the plentiful intersections, where we'd leap across the four-feet-wide streams of waste. The sewer system itself was built like a grid, to match the layout of the streets above. So, every "block" we travel, we have to jump across the wastewater. And every time, Zelda yelps with fear, praying that she won't fall in.

By the time twenty minutes has passed, neither one of us had spoken to the other. I personally enjoy the silence. It's comforting, and keeps Zelda from having another chance to call me stupid. Our routine has been quite simple: I lead, she follows, and I turn around every once in a while to check that she hasn't quietly fallen in.

When I make a right at one of the intersections, Zelda breaks the silence.

"I can't believe Ordonia doesn't teach its kids to drive."

I turn to peer at her. She had withdrawn her phone to light her own path, which illuminated the space around us enough that I can look her in the eyes. When I do this, she just turns away, as if burdened by my gaze and overall presence. "All Ordonia teaches its kids is how to bail hay and that liberals are wrong. We aren't as advanced as you superior geniuses."

"We rarely drive in the city," she counters. "You should know that. We take taxis everywhere, but we still know how to drive. You're just stupid."

"I see you have a new favorite word," I muse, stepping carefully around a scuttling rat.

Zelda eyes the critter with disgust. "No, I have many other descriptive words I could use for you. Your vocabulary is just far too limited. So I settle for calling you stupid."

"Or you could settle for not saying anything."

And that's what she chooses to do. And the whole rest of the trip, a smug grin is plastered dumbly on my face. A small victory.

When it has been nearly any hour, we start closing in on the castle. After one final leap across the waste, Zelda and I come upon black iron bars from floor to ceiling, blocking any forward progress.

"We're right outside the castle, then," I muse.

"Well, what do we do now?" huffs Zelda with fatigue as she dons the Sheikah mask to complete her disguise.

Muddled, I frown, thinking to myself. Surely, there are bars all around the perimeter of Hyrule Castle territory, so going around and hoping for a different way in would be foolish. I suppose the only way through is to break them.

Stepping forward, I take a breath of preparation before wrapping my gloved hands around two bars. Gritting my teeth, I pull and pull, hoping to somehow pry them apart. I let go, breathing heavily, and check my work. Not a single budge. Standing back, I tongue a tooth, growing antsy.

Zelda inches her way toward the bars. Placing a gloved hand on the surface of one of them, she says softly, "They're metal."

I expected a wiser statement from the destined bearer of Wisdom. But instead of goading her, I just nod. "Yeah."

"And," she continues as I realize she wasn't finished, "you are able to summon electricity."

"…Yeah."

Her eyes stay locked with mine. "Do you have any idea what I'm getting at?"

"Not at all."

"Gods," Zelda sighs, pinching at the bridge of her nose. "Do you even pay attention in AP Bio?"

"Uh, I don't take that."

"…Yes you do, Link. We have it together. Masca's class, fifth period."

My eyes widen. "Wait—I'm in AP? No wonder I have a D minus!"

"Or maybe it's because you don't understand simple concepts like conduction!" she grumbles, grabbing my hand and placing it on an iron bar.

I grip the metal surface, squinting in confusion, before a light bulb goes off in my head. "Oh," I say dumbly, finally understanding her train of thought. It all makes sense now; she thinks that I can dump a ton of energy into these bars, heat them up until they're red-hot, and then bend them far enough apart to let us fit through. Seems simple enough, but, well… "I've, uh, never tried this before."

"Just try," she urges, moving away to give me space.

I remove my right glove to toss out any possible insulation from the equation, then wrap my palm around the rusty bar. Focusing on the energy deep within my chest, I shut my eyes, imagining it course its way through my veins and travel toward my fingertips. My hand starts to tingle, signifying its successful expedition. I pour more and more energy into the iron bar, completely immersed within my internal labyrinth, undeterred by the outside world. Minutes pass, but I pay no attention to the time.

When my focus finally starts to wane, I tug powerfully against the bar, then let go. Opening my eyes, I gape at my work. The entire bar is glowing red, progressively fading into a bright white where my hand had been. Bent far from where it once stood, the nearly-melted rod now presents an opening wide enough for us to proceed.

I turn to Zelda, who is quite surprised by my work as well, despite feigning apathy. "Maybe you do need me," she says, and I don't know if it was out of humor or exasperation.

"Let's get going, then."

I lead the way, squeezing through the opening, being careful not to graze the hot metal. Zelda has an easier fit, as her stature is more petite than mine. Once on the other side, I study the maps once again, thinking up the best plan for infiltration.

"We go forward for one more intersection, and we'll be right beneath the cellar," I announce, mostly to myself. "Let's hope we can climb up into it. If we can, from there we will go up into the first floor, sneak through a hallway, through the armory, and into the sanctum. That's where the Triforce is located." A memory runs through my mind; in my sleep, I'd been sent a vision of Ganondorf the night he had broken into the castle to steal this very same relic. He failed, however, because of the castle's unmatched security.

Determined, I resume the walk forward. After a few steps, I realize that I'm the only one walking. Stopping, turning, I find Zelda staring at her feet by the still-glowing iron bar. Confused, I prod, "Coming?"

She lifts her head and sighs, and the little face the ninja mask does reveal displays only distress. "I—" She pauses, finding her words. "Since learning of it, I've been doing a lot of reading about this… Triforce. Usually, Nayru's blessing follows the royal bloodline. I—I'm worried... What if it doesn't accept me?"

I raise my eyebrows. "Accept you? Zelda, all you have to do is grab it—"

"Except," she interrupts, gaze averted, "it has always been a relic that lives dormant within the bearer's spirit until awakened. That happened to you, right? You didn't have to go seek it out?"

Swallowing, I think back to when I discovered my own Triforce—the very night I first encountered Ganondorf, the very night Rusl was killed. The power had simply awoken, burning through the skin of my hand. I nod to Zelda, hesitantly. "…Yeah."

"Something doesn't feel right, then. Why is it something that I have to find, but not something you had to?"

I shrug. "Honestly, the Triforce makes no sense. It's a mystery. But what we have to do is listen to the gods and go get it. We can cross that bridge when we come to it."

Zelda nods, saying nothing. And, with that, we continue our trek.

I understand her hesitation, her self-doubt. Likely, she's scared to take on this new destiny. I certainly was—and still am. Our main difference, however, is that I have much more drive to carry out my destiny, being to destroy Yuga. Not that Zelda lacks motivation. It's just that, after all the loss I've experienced, I have very little left to lose, so I'm more willing to throw myself headfirst into danger. Zelda has many people that care for her, many more than me, and she cares for many as well. So she is more tentative, and doesn't want to part ways with her old life, or her life as a whole. I, meanwhile, have a tight circle, with Zelda directly in the center—she just doesn't know that. That circle is what keeps me from making any decisions too rash for my own good, but, if I'm harmed, I'll die knowing I died for them.

We come across another ladder minutes later. Unlike the numerous ones we've encountered up to this point, this one doesn't lead up to a manhole cover. Instead, it is a square of wooden planks, just big enough for a body to squeeze through.

"Zelda, look," I say, pointing to what I found.

"Must be an escape hatch." She gestures toward it. "Go on. Lead the way."

I climb the rusty rungs to the top, pushing up against the wooden planks. With a soft creak, the hatch opens, and dim light spills into the sewer from above. I look down at Zelda, as the warm yellow light flashes across her face, twinkling softly in her green eyes.

She frowns beneath the Sheikah mask. "What is it?"

I hadn't realized that I was staring. "I, uh… was just gonna say how easy it is to break into a castle."

She shrugs, nodding. "Well crawl up so I can get out of this hell-hole."

I scurry up and in, moving out of the way to make room for her. Indeed, this is the cellar. The maps proved to be reliable. Zelda joins me, and I close the hatch, taking in our surroundings. We stand at the back end of the narrow room, with barrels on either side of the blended-in hatch. On the other end is a simple wooden staircase, leading up to an average-looking door. Enormous lattice shelves stand up against the long parallel walls, containing wine and other bottles.

"We need to look everywhere for security cameras," I tell her quietly. "I can shoot at them and break 'em. If we get seen, I'll be a top criminal."

"Didn't the chief already issue an arrest warrant for you?"

"Yeah, but the public still thinks I'm a good guy. If word of this break-in gets out, everyone will be against me."

"Or you could, like, not wear the costume."

"You know I can't do that."

The two of us make our way to the staircase and begin our quiet ascent. About halfway up, noises on the other side of the door freeze us in place, and before we have time to react, the door swings open.

"Wha—" murmurs a groggy voice.

We stare up at the swaying man, too frightened to move.

He focuses on us, squinting brown eyes. "'Oy. Hullo there, Link."

My heart stops. My eyes bulge.

Then the man pushes his curly red hair up over his head, and places a pair of spectacles on the bridge of his nose. He grins a friendly grin. It's Shad. Drunk Shad, but still Shad.

I heave a sigh of relief, but Zelda remains worried. She's never met him.

Shad starts to come down the stairs. "Now what 're ya doin' at Hyrule Castle, Link—oh, shoot—Hero?"

"Close the door!" I whisper frantically.

Shad leaps into the air, startled way more than he should have been. "Okay, jeez." He shuts the door softly behind him, then turns back to us. Frowning, he points to Zelda. "Who's the cosplayer?"

Zelda puts a hand to her face.

"A friend," I answer, fighting the threat of an amused smile as I look at her. "This is my detective, Shad. He's not normally… this." I turn to the drunk detective. "We're here to get something to help us take down Yuga. But you can't tell anybody we're here."

Shad smiles, stepping between us and throwing an arm around our shoulders, walking us back down the stairs. "Yessir. No one's gonna find out."

"Shad," I urge, eyes narrowing, "I'm not playing games. I know you're drunk, but you're too smart for this. This is serious, and I need you to focus."

Shad blinks hard, releasing us from the half-hug. He coughs into his arm, shakes his head vigorously, and looks me in the eye. "O-okay."

I stare at him like an unsolvable math problem, utterly perplexed. "First off, you have to tell me why you're drinking. You don't seem like the type."

Another cough. "Well, I—the cops, we got nothin' to do here. They got enough security as is. S-so lately we just been goin' to the dining hall and turnin' it into a… a tavern." He lowers his eyes shamefully. "I, uh, never drank before. I got pressured into it. T-they ran out of bottles and s-sent me down here to get more."

"Wait; you said the cops are here?" I question, puzzled. "Like, all of them? What good is CTPD doing in the castle?"

"Well, um…" Shad grimaces, lowering his head. "After that… terrible massacre… our forces h-had no other choice but retreat and regroup at the castle."

A frown wrinkles my features. So this is why I haven't heard from Shad since Yuga's takeover. "…The people think you've all abandoned them."

"What can we do?" Shad asks with an ironic chuckle and a smile of hysteria. "He's a god."

"He is not a god," insists Zelda.

Shad rolls his eyes, then gets dizzy and rests his arm on my shoulder. "And now I pissed off the ninja."

"Where's the chief?" I ask, frowning.

"He's here too." A hiccup. "If you wanna steal somethin' like you said… well, there's tons of people here willing to take you down."

I nod, scoffing. "Of course. They're in here hiding but will stop the only person who's fighting back."

"Great," grunts Shad. "Our only hope is a green Power Ranger from the French bourgeoisie, I guess."

Zelda blinks. "That was a really immature but sophisticated joke."

"That's what it's like when a nerd gets wasted." Shad pauses, eyeing Zelda blandly. "You'll find out when you're twenty-one."

"What are you trying to—"

"Anyway," I cut in, "do you think you could help us?"

His eyebrows raise. "Help you break into the castle and embezzle some kind of federally-protected treasure?"

I pause, my mouth falling shut.

"I'd love to," he says, deadpan, hiccuping.

Zelda and I share a look of amused surprise. "Um, okay," I say slowly. "How can we get to the sanctum without being seen by any guards or cameras?"

"The sanctum?" he repeats, eyes widening. "Shoot, I dunno. None of us 've gone there 'cause the guards creep us out."

A muddled frown creases my brow. Creepy guards at the sanctum? Something about that sounds familiar, but I just can't place what gives me this feeling.

"I know the way," I tell him, showing him the map of the castle on my phone screen, "if you'll just help me get there stealthily."

"Stealthily." Shad closes his eyes, wracking his brain to function properly. "Hm. W-well, there's one thing I think could work… but you won't like it."

Up, around, and down. Up, around, and down.

We spin. Mindlessly. Sickeningly. My arms are wrapped around Zelda as she is curled up in the fetal position, back pressed against my chest, aromatic golden hair that peeks out of the ninja mask tickling my face. The lingering scent of alcohol burns my nostrils, and the wood is still damp.

We're in a barrel.

In theory, this was a great idea. But when you are the one stuffed inside the barrel, cramped in with your totally-platonic partner—who you're supposed to dislike but maybe deep down you still kinda like despite constantly trying to fight those feelings in order to maintain your dignity—it isn't a cakewalk. Relatable, right?

Shad gets the easy job. He's spinning the barrel down the path I'd told him. After first relaying his plan to us, he didn't even bother to help emptying the barrel down through the cellar's escape hatch. He claimed drunkenness prevented him from lending a hand, but we both knew it was an excuse. But, fortunately, that excuse would prove to be our advantage. Twice, now, from what Zelda and I have heard through the wooden planks, a guard had stopped Shad for questioning.

"What are you doing?" the first had asked.

Shad hiccupped. "The boys wann'd me t' bring 'em s'more," he slurred, acting more intoxicated than he was.

"Sir, the dining hall is that way."

"I know a shortcut!" he'd exclaim with enthusiasm, and then we'd be on our way. Shortly after, another guard received the same experience.

I don't know exactly where we are now. This thing doesn't come with windows.

"Ow!" hisses Zelda, swatting at my arm. "You stabbed my leg with your elbow!"

"My apologies. I'll scoot over." I pause for effect, not moving. "There. Better?"

"This is the worst day ever."

Grinning, I let out a chuckle. "I believe we make a good team."

She turns her head, narrowing her eye at me in the faint light that seeps through the cracks. "What could possibly give you that notion?"

"Well," I begin, half-shrugging in our tight quarters, "look at the progress we've made—and all without fail."

"We can't go five minutes without arguing."

"Actually, we've done that about seven times today. I've been counting. But," I add as she shakes her head with incredulity, "we're just arguing for the sake of arguing. Have you noticed that?"

"Maybe because—"

"Because teasing you is funny to me, and you hate to agree with me as if to prove that you're better."

"Well considering that I am better—"

"And considering that you can't beat me at my own game—these heists, that is—it proves that we are different, but equal. So all we have to do is get along."

Zelda hushes, and I think I've won. But the idea of "winning" is counterintuitive after just claiming that getting along is key. I said what I meant, too. Our arguments aren't heated, vehement disagreements. They are just battles of dignity.

After another brief moment, Zelda speaks.

"We don't need to get along anymore, Link. We've gotten this far as is. Worry about yourself."

Her words sting, cold and sharp. Saying nothing, I blink back surprise. I'd tried to sound positive. What was wrong with that? Maybe she can never forgive for what I've done. Maybe she just hates me.

"Pardon me," comes a faint voice from the outside world. "I hate to interrupt any incredibly-coincidental romantic moments that can only be possible in fanfiction, but we're here."

Our barrel is tipped rightside-up, and Shad pries the lid off the top. As soon as light spills into our wooden confines, Zelda propels herself up and off of me, heedless of any injury she could deal me. I hastily climb out of the barrel, stretching painfully, gritting my teeth at the tightness of my back.

"This is the armory," says Shad, gesturing about with a lazy flick of a hand. "The sanctum's thattaway. But if there are some weirdos in there, I'm not gonna help you sneak around 'em."

I look around the room. Practice dummies line the far wall, bullet holes in their heads and chests. The closest wall has glass cases of rifles, pistols, and shotguns, while behind us lies the melee weaponry. Swords, claymores, and halberds—which I assume are more commonly used for ceremonial purposes rather than combat—hang from the wall, while a couple batons lie astray on the adjacent countertop. CTPD must've left those there.

"I'ma go back to the cellar now, and switch this barrel for the one that's actually full, and bring it back to the dining hall," Shad says through a yawn. "There aren't any cameras in the armory or the sanctum. You're fine for now. But however you're plannin' on escapin'… well, there'll be tons of guards and cameras. But you've gotta map. You'll find a way."

With a final tipsy wave, Shad leaves us, rolling the barrel back the way he came from.

When the door shuts, Zelda removes the ninja mask now that no one will see her, letting her blonde hair spill out down her back. She meets my gaze, face devoid of emotion. She's good at that. Or she's just apathetic. "Well?" she says, a single eyebrow raised.

I move past her toward the crimson double doors. "I'll lead the way, princess," I respond richly. I find myself hoping that when I use the word princess she takes it as condescending and not flattering.

Slowly, I push the doors open, and a quiet creak echoes into the grand, circular room. A chill trickles down my spine when Zelda and I enter. Observing the sanctum in two sweeping motions, I note the familiarity of it: the red carpet, the torches on the columns that the inner circular perimeter, the marble steps leading up to a prominent pedestal.

I find myself drawn to the pedestal at the center, instinctively taking steps forward. Zelda follows close behind, eyes dull and mirthless. Looking backward, I notice as much, and I raise a quizzical eyebrow. Her gaze is deliberately averted, however, so I roll my eyes and proceed.

Reaching the marble stairs, I stop, and Zelda comes beside me. We look. Atop the pedestal sits a small golden triangle. We breathe in. We breathe out, in sync. Gesturing forward, I look at the girl beside me and silently urge her onward to seize her destiny.

Still ignoring my existence, Zelda takes small steps up the stairs. I watch, growing slightly impatient with her hesitancy, and feel the stillness in the air. The hairs on my neck stand upright, but I'm too invested in seeing our mission completed that I don't feel the need to be suspicious of anything.

And then, abruptly, Zelda stops halfway up the steps. A brief moment passes, then, quick as a fox, she whirls around and raises a pistol.

"What the—!" I yelp. "Zelda, what the hell?"

The barrel is aimed straight at my chest; her eyes reflect a strange combination of fierceness and intimidation. When did she get a gun? Must have been in the armory when she was hanging behind me. But for goddesses' sakes, why?

"Zelda," I say, trying not to panic, "I know I've been a tad bit annoying today, but I think you could be overreacting quite a bit—"

"Link." Her voice is steady, tone commanding. "Move."

I frown, perplexed, before it dawns on me. She is looking… past me. I spin around quickly, hopping to the side and out of the way. Behind where I'd been and a few yards back is a large figure in a black suit of armor, marching forward with a massive blade held at the ready. It takes slow steps forward, and when it's clear that it won't back down, Zelda pulls the trigger and a loud Bang! echoes through the room.

We watch with despair as the bullet enters the shadowed facial opening, but clanks ineffectively within the helmet. The knight continues marching, unhindered. Does it not have a body in there? What is it, then; just a spirit controlling the suit?

I'm an idiot. How did I not remember this? Ganondorf fought this thing—a Darknut, if I remember correctly—when he broke in. Even he had trouble dealing with it. Granted, there were two of them. Hopefully this one in front of us is the only one who decided to show up for work today.

"Zelda," I begin quietly, "did you happen to pick up any other weapons?"

"N-no," she answers meekly.

I bite my lip. If guns are ineffective, a sword would have been very helpful right now. "Stay out of the way, then." I step between Zelda and the Darknut, fingers curling into fists, and devise a hasty game plan. If I disarm it, the knight will have nothing to attack with and can only defend.

That is all I can decide upon, because the knight is closing in. I need to bait it close enough and force it to focus its attacks on me, then bring the fight away from Zelda. Then I'll try to take its broadsword.

When the Darknut is a mere two yards away, I spring into action, charging forward at the knight with an electrified fist. I take one swing at it before it can react, feeling the skin on my knuckles split at contact with the metal armor, and leap out of the way as it swipes at me with its blade.

It turns toward me, its motions choppy and strained. Odd—the Darknuts were pretty agile when they fought Ganondorf. But then, as if with a flip of a switch, the knight moves smoothly again. What caused that delay?

I lure it closer once again, but this time it breaks its rhythm and rushes forward with unexpected speed. I yelp in fear, rolling out of the way to the ground behind it as the knight brings its blade down to where I just stood. With a sweeping motion, I kick at the knight's legs, but only succeed in spinning it around to face me. The Darknut stares at me, nothing but a black abyss within its helmet, and I stare back with a nervous smile. Then, abruptly, it slices at me again, and I hop backward just out of reach.

I need to get on the offensive if I want to win. I'm doing too much evading, and the knight is not going to get tired.

With renewed resolve, I turn around and sprint toward one of the columns, feeling the knight hot on my heels. Once near enough, I jump, putting my foot against the column and vaulting myself into a backflip. Time slows down as I'm in the air, and the Darknut passes harmlessly underneath me, its blade ramming into the column. I land on the floor behind the knight, its blade wedged firmly into the crumbling stone structure. Rushing, I wrap my arms around the knight's metal neck, pulling with all my might, and get the Darknut to release its grip on the weapon. With heavy exertion, I throw the knight to the floor, stepping on its helmet on my way toward the broadsword. The Darknut then snatches at my leg, metal gauntlet wrapped tightly around my ankle, and I stumble. Surging forward, I grit my teeth, pulling and willing myself toward the column with all the strength I can muster, until finally I pry myself free from the knight's grip.

I wrap both hands around the hilt, yanking the broadsword out of the column, sending more stone crumbling down. I turn back around, the Darknut having risen to face me. Emitting a strained battle cry, I spin around to gain momentum, then swing a powerful blow to the head. The helmet is lopped clean off, and the rest of the knight falls to its knees before me. With a satisfactory poof sound, the armor clanks to the floor in separated heaps, purple smoke oozing from the openings.

Heaving heavy breaths, I close my eyes. Then, I meet Zelda's gaze from across the room. She's staring at me, hands clasped at her chest, mouth slightly agape and green eyes twinkling with an emotion I cannot decipher. The pistol lies uselessly on the floor at her feet. Making my way toward her, I drag the heavy blade behind me, just in case.

When I reach the steps, Zelda tries steeling herself, averting her eyes. "That was, um…" she says quietly, "…impressive."

A smile graces my lips, but it falls immediately.

"Zelda, move!" I shout, dropping the broadsword and raising my right hand at the Darknut behind her with its blade raised high. She leaps out of the way, gasping, and I shoot a bolt of electricity straight at the knight's metal chest.

Thrashing, but frozen in place, the Darknut stares forward blankly as licks of energy course between its metal plates. Meeting Zelda's frightened gaze, I grin with ironic amusement. "Conduction."

She stares at me with incredulity.

I pick the broadsword back up, step forward, then swing at the second Darknut's head. Just like the other, the armor falls apart in a powerless pile of junk, miscellaneous pieces tumbling down the steps to the carpeted floor below.

We stand alone now, with the pedestal only a few steps upward. Zelda and I share a look, a strange one, in which her mouth is agape and she appears like she wants to say something but cannot find the words. I let the moment drag on for a bit, then sigh. Gesturing sideways with my head in the direction of the pedestal, I tell her quietly, "Go."

Following a hesitant pause, Zelda tears her gaze away and climbs the steps. I follow her out of curiosity, but keep my distance. When she reaches the pedestal, she stares down at the opaque-gold relic, and I look on from one step down. Taking in a shaky breath, Zelda slowly reaches out, pale fingers inching closer and closer to the small triangle.

She makes contact with her destiny, then, emitting a tiny gasp. Intrigued, I watch as the triangle morphs into tiny wisps of light, floating mesmerizingly in the air until travelling into Zelda's outstretched finger. When the wisps have all disappeared from the air around her, Zelda watches the back of her hand expectantly. I shuffle closer, looking over her shoulder. A faint outline of the Triforce emblem appears on her skin, with the bottom-left triangle a shade brighter, yet still dim. Wisdom.

Zelda sighs, eyes closing. She turns toward me, and I take a small step backward. "So this is it, then. I'm now chosen." Her eyes reflect the seriousness of this sad reality, and she lowers her head.

"Uh-huh," I respond lamely. "It really isn't that bad, though."

"Despite the weight of the world being on our shoulders," she counters. "Honestly, I don't know how you handle the pressure."

I blink, having never thought of that myself. "I don't really feel any pressure," I answer. "I just think of what motivates me."

Her lips part slightly. "What is it that motivates you?"

"My uncle. And—" I stop, cutting myself short. You, I finish in my head. But I can't bring myself to say that.

Her eyebrows raise expectantly. "And what?"

Shrugging, I look down. "…My friends," I answer truthfully, despite the genericness of the response.

Zelda nods, that indecipherable expression resurfacing in her demeanor. She shifts her gaze to the back of her hand once more, but gasps.

"What?" I ask, frowning.

Zelda turns her hand, showing me. "It's gone!" she says frantically.

"Gone?" Squinting, I take her hand, ignoring the surge of warmth in my chest. And, strangely, Zelda's Triforce is indeed missing. "That's… not normal."

That didn't help. Visibly distressed, Zelda raises her eyebrows, her mouth falling open. "What—what did I do wrong? Did the goddesses reject me? I—I—"

"Zelda," I interrupt, placing a consoling hand on her shoulder, at which she flinches. "I don't know what just happened. But we have to leave the castle before anyone finds us. We can't do anything else here."

"But…" She trails off, hopelessness in her eyes. "…Okay."

It saddens me to see her so distraught. I can tell she really worried if Nayru would accept her as the bearer of Wisdom. Did Nayru reject her? She couldn't have—Zelda is the wisest person out there. Then why did it go away? I keep these thoughts to myself, because, really, we must focus on escaping in one piece before trying to solve divine mysteries.

"How are we going to do this?" Zelda asks. "We don't have a barrel this time. We'll be seen."

I tongue a tooth, wracking my brain for a solution. When my gaze falls upon the scattered armor plates of the fallen Darknuts, my eyes light up.

"I have a great idea."

We march in unison through the hallway. Right, left, right, left. A group of castle guards looks up at the two of us, their eyes widening, and they all step out of our way. Shad was right; everyone gets freaked out by the Darknuts.

Despite the weight of the armor, this disguise is a lot better than sharing a barrel with another person. Zelda, especially, can attest to that. I can still smell the alcohol on my tunic.

Portraits of Hylian royalty line the red-carpeted hallway, extravagant sconces separating each gilded frame. Loftwing, korok, wolf, and horse stone statues adorn the frequent alcoves, but I am sure to keep my eyes forward as to not incite suspicion. After all, the main reason these Darknuts are so intimidating is because of how blank and unresponsive they are. That, and those big-ass broadswords they carry.

Zelda's faring well beside me, for all that I can tell; the heavy armor doesn't seem to break her stride. That's good news, considering we're only about halfway to the cellar. Once we return to our initial infiltration point, we'll return to the sewer (much to Zelda's delight) and dump the armor in the wastewater. That way, our fingerprints will be washed off, and no evidence of our break-in will be found.

In retrospect, this was very, very difficult to accomplish. If Shad hadn't randomly shown up at the cellar and provided his assistance, our little adventure could have played out much differently. I'll have to remember to thank him, at least once he sobers up.

Rounding a corner, Zelda and I march our way to the familiar wooden door of the cellar, and we walk in one at a time. Maneuvering carefully down the creaky stairs in the dimly-lit room, we each breathe sighs of relief. We made it.

I lead the way through the narrow cellar, kicking the empty barrel that we had curled up in aside, and come upon the escape hatch at the back. Lifting it up, I look back toward Zelda, her face shrouded within the helmet of the Darknut armor. Then, I climb down the ladder, Zelda following and shutting the hatch behind us.

Removing the helmet, I shake my head side-to-side, freeing my wild golden-brown hair. I continue to remove the remainder of the armor, dumping the pieces into the river of sewage, and Zelda does the same.

Once only in our regular attire, I meet Zelda's eyes, concerned; they're dull, disheartened. I feel a pang of sympathy for her. She was finally acceptant of her new responsibilities, only to have her destiny pulled out from underneath her. The goddesses don't even make sense, and they piss me off.

My ears perk up to the sound of footsteps from above. Turning to Zelda, I whisper, "Come on!" and lead the way back through the sewer.

We run for a couple minutes, leaping over the rivers at the intersections, then slow to a walk after rounding a corner. For a while, we travel in silence.

"Thank you," Zelda says abruptly, head down, "for fighting those things."

"Sure," comes my robotic response. I'm in no mood to be smug, nor will it make Zelda feel better.

"I wanted to help." She fumbles with her hands. "I felt useless."

I shake my head, tired. "Don't worry about it."

We don't need to get along anymore, Link. Zelda's words ring harshly in my ears. Progress is made, and then we go all the way back to square one. How can I keep putting myself through this emotional rollercoaster?

Worry about yourself, she says. Impossible. What's my motivation, she asks? She is my only living motivation. Without a doubt. How can I worry about myself when the only person I truly care for anymore—at least in this way—is Zelda?

Zelda seems to notice my off behavior. That is, my lack of teasing. Turning toward me with what looks like concern, she prods, "Link?"

"Hm."

She hesitates. "What's next?"

"Next?"

"With my Triforce," she says. "And with Yuga."

"I don't know. I thought the goddesses would tell us by now," I grunt negatively.

"Something tells me they won't be giving us anymore hints."

I glance at her, trying in vain not to notice her beauty, even when in a dark and musty sewer. "It feels like they aren't on our side."

"I like to think they're neutral, since they gave us free will," she muses.

"I've always believed in their existence, but I've never been a devout supporter." I shake my head, despondent. "They sure didn't help my family."

Her expression softens slightly as she watches her footsteps. "…I think we are ready to save the city," she says after a while.

"Don't get too confident. He's got a whole world at his disposal. I'm not strong enough to take all that on."

Zelda frowns. "…You have me."

"Realistically, we aren't enough. We're practically demigods, but he's pretty close to a god."

Nodding, she sighs. "Plus we have no idea what happened with my Triforce…"

"Right."

The silence settles between us once again, lasting the rest of our journey. When about thirty minutes have passed, we finally come upon the uncovered manhole we entered in, clambering up and out of the sewer.

Breathing in the frigid, fresh air, Zelda and I share a look of fatigued relief. Then, creeping through the night in the daunting post-curfew hours, we make our way home.

In a nearby alley, a figure cloaked in shadow watches the duo sneak down the road, its primal red eyes locked on its next targets. But, on a whim, it decides to let them walk safely for the night.