COUNTING STARS

— Interlude —

Shad stood back as a trio of officers kicked in the door to the small Westcastle home. He hadn't been ordered to join the unit Chief sent here, but he heard this was a new development in wrapping up the whole Yuga case, so he tagged along out of sheer curiosity—and also for Link's sake. Maybe whatever happens in a few moments can give Link some extra reassurance.

Moments later his colleagues came out from the inside, leading a handcuffed teenager with lavender hair down the steps. He thrashed against their grip, cursing at them, proclaiming his innocence. Ignoring his tirade, the officers dragged the boy past Shad with steeled faces.

When the boy looked his way, seeming to silently plead for his intervention, Shad finally recognized him. Vaati Anemoi, Link's enemy-turned-ally. Confused, he knitted his brows.

"Hey," Shad called out to the officer who trailed the others. The man turned and met his eyes, an eyebrow raised. "What did this kid do, exactly?"

"Wouldn't you know? You were head of the Yuga case, weren't you?"

"It was hardly a case, considering we were holed up in the castle the whole time," he replied dryly.

The officer's eyes widened, and he quickly looked over his shoulder. "Shut up. You know Chief said we're not supposed to talk about that."

Rolling his eyes, Shad looked back over at Vaati and the officers speaking to him. "Right, sure. So why're we taking him in?"

"All I know is that he was connected with Yuga. Alright?"

Vaati, who had overheard before being ushered into the back of the police car, suddenly cried out to them, "No I wasn't!"

Shad and his colleague turned their heads to look at him.

"They held me against my will! Ask Hero! He freed me the night he saved the city!"

"That's enough," grunted the officer guiding him, shoving him inside the car and slamming the door.

Shad's colleague turned and raised his eyebrows, pointing with his thumb over his shoulder. "The kid knows too much. And," he added, clicking his pen and beginning to jot on his clipboard, "he has connections with Hero. That's not gonna help his case."

Shad swallowed, frowning. "All he said was Hero freed him. That doesn't prove he's connected at all."

"Please. Hero is well aware of that kid's criminal history. You think he'd free some crook from that warehouse if he wasn't allied with him?"

Thwarted, Shad's gaze fell. "I… I don't know. But it isn't right to accuse someone based off an assumption."

"It's a new age, Shad. We're done tolerating criminals like we used to." The officer nodded firmly. "Sometimes you've got to take the leaps that others won't. For the greater good."

With that, he walked away and returned to the police car, leaving Shad with his thoughts.

The young detective frowned pensively, returning to the passenger side of the second police car. As they drove back to the station, Shad couldn't help but think of how corrupt the police force had become since the siege. It left a bad taste in his mouth; it made him ashamed to be a part of this organization.

He had joined because he wanted to do good for the public. He wanted to be a hero. But now, it seemed, the city's only hero was—well, Hero.

Shad realized then and there that the city's best interests were not protected by CTPD. As crazy as it sounded, it became apparent to him that the only one who truly knew what was best for the city was Link.

He vowed to keep that in mind for the remainder of his career at the station. It may lose him his job, or worse, land him behind bars, but how could he live with himself enabling this corruption?

Moments before Shad was about to pack up for the day and wrap up his shift, he heard the voices of two officers outside.

"…to cell thirteen."

"We're letting him go?"

"Mhm. Chief's orders."

Shad's ears perked up, and he squinted curiously. He hadn't heard about any orders of discharge. On a whim, Shad opened up his laptop and searched the database for who was being held in cell thirteen. When the results came up, Shad's eyes widened.

Quickly, he leapt to his feet and barged out of his office. "Hey!" he called out.

The two men, one appearing old enough to be the other's father, turned around. "Is there a problem?" said the elder.

"There might be." Shad approached them slowly, a hand held on the taser behind his back. "You're not going anywhere near cell thirteen."

The younger man looked between Shad and his colleague, wide-eyed. Shad recognized him from around the station, but not the older guy. If this was a breakout attempt, he knew it would get ugly.

The man folded his arms and raised an eyebrow, almost tauntingly. "Are you threatening me for following Chief's orders?"

"I've never even seen you at this station, and this kid's just an intern. I don't trust your word at all."

"I'm a transfer from Faronville, detective. You don't need to trust my word. But you're required to trust this signature." He held his clipboard out to him.

Shad took it and studied it, his eyes falling on the blue-inked scribble that belonged to the chief. He knew that signature; he'd seen it a thousand times. These two, to his chagrined surprise, were legit.

"That's impossible," Shad exhaled, frowning as the man took his clipboard back. "Chief is letting him go? Do you have any idea who that man is?"

The man exhaled, irked. "According to his file, he's a licensor with a clean criminal record, who happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. Now if you have any more questions, take them up with the chief. I'm just doing my job."

With that, they turned and continued down the long hallway, leaving Shad standing alone outside his office. He balled his fists and let out a restrained grumble. This wasn't good. He couldn't let this happen, right?

Just in case, he had to confirm that this was indeed ordered by the chief.

Shad hastily made his way to the foyer where most of his colleagues were packing up for the day, Chief Auru included, who was just now coming out of his office. "Sir!" he called, stopping him before he could get too far.

"What is it, Shad?"

"Two men walked by on their way to free the occupant of cell thirteen," he said. "Is it true? Did you order that?"

Chief Auru regarded him coolly. "I did."

Shad blinked, then frowned, refusing to believe his ears. "May I ask why?"

Pressing his lips, the chief folded his arms and held back an eyeroll. "Because, detective, it isn't right to keep an innocent man locked up."

"Innocent man…?" Shad echoed. "Chief, that man—"

"Has a clean record. Yuga's three henchmen said he was not a part of their gang. He was only held prisoner."

"For what reason? Did they also say that he was a leader in their rival gang?"

The chief paused ever so subtly, but noticeably enough for Shad's suspicions to be raised even higher. "No," the chief said. "I suggest you drop it, detective. The Yuga case is closed. Gangs are dead in Castle Town."

Right then, in front of the two officers escorting him, a large old man emerged from the hallway, his wrinkly face masked by a black shawl. He strode forward with his head held high, then stopped before the door. He turned, then, his bloodshot eyes fixating on Shad and Chief Auru. Although the old man's face was cloaked, Shad was certain he saw it twist into a sinister smile.

When Shad turned to look toward his boss, Chief Auru had already walked away. On the other side of the room, the old man strolled slowly out of the station.

And just like that, Agahnim was a free man.

"So. Situation time. You ready?"

"I ready, brother."

"You find a guppy sitting at your seat in the dining hall. What do you do?"

"I… sit in seat beside guppy man."

Ghirahim palmed his face and sighed. "No. The first thing you do is whip out your shank, and then hold it up to that pathetic cretin's throat, until he moves!"

Ekpemofuna squinted, uncertainty in his tone. "Your method sound lonely."

"Lonely?" Ghirahim repeated. "You're not trying to make friends. You're trying to survive."

"I survive for three years before you come here. Why you teach me this?"

The young man pressed his lips together, running a hand through his long white hair. "Well as you know, my gang has taken over after Majora lost his magic rock," he began, ignoring Ekpemofuna's flinch at the mention of the old prison boss's name. "I want you to become a strong ruler—so when we leave, you can take over as boss."

"Leave?" Ekpemofuna echoed, eyes widening. "You plan escape?"

Ghirahim smirked. "No, no plan. But someone will come to get us. And I feel like it'll happen very soon."

Suspicious, Ekpemofuna knitted his brows, opening his mouth to question him further when the lunch bell's shrill ring cuts him off. With it, the iron-bar doors to all the cells slid open, and the holler of prison guards echoed through the halls as they attempted to corral each prisoner into the cafeteria.

A few minutes later found Ghirahim and his cellmate at the table that once belonged to the previous head honcho, Majora. But things were different now. Nobody really knew how it happened, but sometime after their minds all got hijacked, everything just snapped back to normal, and Majora no longer had his magical scarlet stone. That was all Ghirahim and his crew needed to know before seamlessly taking over as co-bosses of Death Mountain Prison.

As he and Ekpemofuna ate their bland food in silence, his cronies joined them at their table, plopping down their trays and surveying the cafeteria. Ghirahim nodded his greetings to Veran, Zant, and Onox, who all wore smug and confident smirks on their lips.

"Today is a beautiful day, boys," Veran mused. "Our time is soon to come. Can you feel it?"

"I can feel it," Zant murmured, his beady eyes glued to his tray. "He calls out to us."

"I never thought I'd say it, but I might end up missing this hell hole," grunted Onox in his deep voice. "The power we earned, the fear we strike…"

Ghirahim rolled his eyes. "There's plenty more of that when we're out of here. We will be worshipped as gods once—"

"Brothers," Ekpemofuna interjected. He gave a conciliatory nod toward Veran, adding, "—And sister. How you so certain you escape? There double guards since old boss in charge. Double! There only four of you."

"Oh, Ekpe," Veran cooed, almost pouting. "You have no idea what our little posse is capable of when we're at full strength."

"That do not help my confusion."

From across the cafeteria, a commotion was heard; a pair of guards dragged a frail, dark-skinned man into the wide room. The man thrashed against them, but the guards stood their ground and shoved him forward, retreating back into the hall they came from.

As Majora slowly rose to his feet and dusted himself off, he scanned the room stoically, as if accepting his fate. Everyone stared back, right into his beady yellow eyes, like predators. Their roles were reversed; the masses had all the power over him now.

Bored, Ghirahim refocused on the food in front of him, the sound of his munching almost loud enough to muffle out the sounds of the brutal beatdown taking place at the other end of the cafeteria.

"All we're gonna do," he continued, food still stuffed in his mouth, "is sit back and enjoy our stay until somebody comes to pick us up." He swallowed, then grinned devilishly at his cellmate. "And when we leave, that's when you take over here."

"Why you want me take over?" asked Ekpemofuna. He pointed behind Ghirahim. "Look what happen to last boss man. You want happen to me?"

"You're not going to let that happen to you," Ghirahim countered. "You're smarter than that fool. And you're a quick learner, which is good—because until we're rescued, you're going to learn all there is to know."

Ekpemofuna stared at his food, reluctance in his eyes. "Just tell me why," he said. "Why you want me to be boss man?"

Ghirahim looked toward Veran, who sighed and nodded, as if saying, Tell him.

The lad frowned. "Alright. Fine. Here's why." He bit his lip, choosing his words. "If you become boss, you will be the safest man in the joint; you'll have a vast network of bodyguards and allies watching your back with every move. We need you alive, my friend. You see, after we escape, there may be a chance that we fail... and end up back in here."

"If that were to happen—" Veran paused, removed a small object from her pocket, and slid it over to Ekpemofuna. "—then we want this treasure protected in secure, trustworthy hands for when we return."

Ekpemofuna furrowed his brows, picking up the small glass cube and turning it around in front of his eyes. From the inside, a small shape was emenating a mysterious green light. "Treasure," he repeated in his thick foreign accent, studying the cube closely. "What do this do?"

"It's our ticket out," said Zant. "Made of magic. It opens some sort of portal."

Veran hummed, "Mhm."

Still confused, Ekpemofuna tore his eyes away from the mesmerizing glass object, directing them toward Veran's. "Where you find it?"

"The warden's office," she replied. "He and I, well—have a little fun, from time to time."

He wasn't sure why the warden would need something like that. Regardless, Ekpemofuna still wasn't sold. "Why not use thing now—why wait?"

Onox smirked. "We are very confident that we'll be leaving soon anyway, without that thing's help."

"And like we said," added Ghirahim, "we may be locked up again, and we'll need another way out."

Ekpemofuna nodded slowly, his eyes falling back on the glass cube. He understood, somewhat, what their plan for him was—he would be a pawn in their next escape, should they return to Death Mountain Prison. He didn't know why, but it left a bad taste in his mouth, and he only felt as if he was being used.

"So, Ekpe." She leaned forward, staring at him intensely. "Do we have your word? Will you guard this treasure for us, or do we have to, well—" She dragged her finger across her neck in a quick, threatening gesture.

Ekpemofuna's eyebrows shot up. Apparently this was an order, not a request. He swallowed hard, his eyes returning to the little shape suspended in the glass cube. If he squinted, he could make out the shape to be something like an inverted triangle that glowed an electric green, with an inverted Sheikah eye in the middle of it that burned a bright white. Realizing Veran's question still hung in the air, he snapped his eyes up.

"You have my word," he told them.

But Ekpemofuna wasn't great with words.

When he finally returned to his mansion after weeks of being held against his will, Agahnim was surprised. The place had been robbed. For some reason, after assessing the burglary and all lost items, not much of value had been taken. Some five or six stacks of money he had in the bottom drawer in his bedroom, a couple of gold chains he'd stolen from rival gang members, a controller to his Wii. His big TVs and expensive weapons were left alone, surprisingly. Must have been an amateur job. He didn't care enough to check the camera footage to hunt down the culprit, but even if he wanted to, he found that they had each been meticulously destroyed—even the ones he had hidden very well.

Luckily, the thief hadn't found the secret passage to his underground chamber. Agahnim strolled down the spiral staircase and inhaled the stale air. Dust lined the handrail and caked on the floor below, and Agahnim's motion sent it flying up and all around. After reaching the end of the staircase, the old man walked toward the single light bulb that hung low over an occupied stone slab and flickered every so often.

Agahnim was surprised that the chamber did not smell. Then again, it's not like the flesh would rot. The body was never truly dead—just put to rest, until one day awoken again.

Today was that day, at long last.

Another surprise to Agahnim was how fast the body had been able to grow a long mane of fiery red hair that billowed out and over the stone slab it lay on. Agahnim almost preferred it on him, however. It made him look more... demonic. Powerful.

Not willing to delay any longer, Agahnim got straight to work, setting up and lighting the nine dark candles in a circle around the stone slab. Then, he filled the hole in the middle of the limp man's forehead with an amber crystal; it fit perfectly, and added to his regal aura.

Lastly, to carry out the ritual, Agahnim closed his eyes and began to chant in ancient Hylian. The black flames on the candles flickered and shook, and the amber crystal glowed bright orange. He chanted louder, faster. The light bulb hanging above the body began to swing; the ground started to quake softly. He kept chanting, once again upping his volume and speed.

At once, Agahnim stopped chanting, and a sudden chill wind blew out the black flames. Agahnim waited. A long moment passed.

The man's fingers twitched.

Then, quickly, his head snapped in Agahnim's direction, eyes burning a bright yellow. Agahnim smiled devilishly.

Ganondorf Dragmire was back.