The Colossus Library
With a sigh, Sheik set aside yet another dusty tome. It had contained none of the information he hoped to find.
The room was cramped, small—disproportionate to the amount of knowledge it held. Oval-shaped, it had a high ceiling decorated with Gerudo symbols and art. Tall shelves that had stood the test of time surrounded all available space. The library had been hidden behind a false wall in a secret temple, buried deep within the sands of the Gerudo desert. It was truly secluded.
Before they gained a name for themselves as thieves, the Gerudo ancestors had been scholars interested in the acquisition and recording of history's secrets.
The secret stronghold of knowledge he sat in was supposed to hold stores of information about the distant past. Hyrule was a land full of secrets and her oldest mysteries could be solved here. Or so he hoped.
"You've taken a big risk coming out here with me."
Sheik's head lifted from the aged volume he was holding. A Gerudo woman stood in the darkened doorway. In her hands she held a lantern; however, it did not contain a natural flame. The glass panes were frosted with ice, and the flame inside them burned azure blue.
"Blue fire?" Sheik asked, eyeing the lantern as she set it down next to a handful of burning candles.
"Mm. Easier on the eyes. Especially in this old place," she replied, gesturing to the antique, dust-covered shelves.
She sat next to Sheik, folding her legs under her gracefully. Pulling a nearby book into her lap, she opened to a random page. "Any luck?" she inquired.
"None yet," he replied with a sigh.
"Perhaps you could tell me what it is we're looking for," she suggested.
Sheik shook his head. "The less you know, the safer it will be for you, Nabooru."
She scoffed, tossing her long red ponytail over her shoulder. "Safe? I haven't been safe since Ganondorf took over. I have no doubt he will continue to search for me."
He reached for yet another book, discarding the first. "He believes you to be dead. He sent me to deliver the warrant for your execution. Luckily for us, Aveil's loyalty is to you, not him."
"True," Nabooru murmured, squinting at the page in front of her. "But I'll hide out here for the time being."
He made a noise of acquiescence. "He's focused on other things…Nabooru, can you read this?"
She took the book he offered to her, scanning the characters on the page. "Hmm, one of the old languages," she muttered, moving closer to the lantern for better light. "Let's see."
Sheik waited patiently as she recited what was written on the page under her breath, translating the antiquated language into Hylian for him. After catching up with Nabooru at the fortress, he'd asked her to accompany him here, hoping she could help.
"Look here," Nabooru said, pointing to the only image on the page. It featured a symbol—six water droplets arranged in a circle.
"The symbol for Water," Sheik mused.
"Aye," she said, tracing her finger over the yellowed page. "This novel contains old legends about the Zora race."
"Is there anything useful?" Sheik asked.
Nabooru smirked. "Indeed there is. You see it mentions a river with special significance. A river that happens to flow through the canyon in Gerudo territory. As it happens, I have seen this particular symbol etched into the rock wall near where the river spills out…Lake Hylia."
His eyes widened. "Of course. Lake Hylia. There used to be a Zora colony there."
"What are you looking for at Lake Hylia?" Nabooru asked, curious.
"Not what," he corrected. "Who. There's someone I need to track down. They have information I need."
She chuckled. "Seems a lot of people these days are being sought after. This mystery person of yours, your forest friend…Princess Zelda."
Sheik paused, knowing that Nabooru was looking for a reaction. "Ganondorf has driven many into hiding," he said, avoiding her gaze. "Yourself included."
"Indeed," she agreed, sharp eyes watching his face carefully. "It will be a long journey to Lake Hylia. You should leave as soon as possible."
"I leave tomorrow," he replied, stuffing the tome into his pack. "At first light."
Nabooru stood and stretched, sighing contentedly. "So be it. I'll make a fire."
She left the room after blowing out the natural candles. Sheik gazed into the cool blue light of the lantern for several moments, contemplating his next move. He had to find the entrance to the Water Temple as soon as possible. If not, the Zoras were doomed.
He leaned forward, grabbing the lantern from its perch. Opening the glass door, he blew out the blue flame, dousing the room in darkness.
~oOo~
Death Mountain Trail
With the sun low in the sky, the narrow passage that snaked up Death Mountain's peak was checkered with patches of light and shadow. Slants of light would cut through their path, touching all but the deepest crevices. It was to one of these natural slivers in the rock that Impa marched to.
"This will work perfectly," she announced.
"For what?" Dark asked skeptically, peering into the crack in the rock. As far as he could see, a rockslide had torn a chunk out of previously undisturbed stone, leaving a shallow cave.
"For the technique I must teach you," Impa snapped. Her patience had worn thin on their hike up. Dark was more than a little aggravating, even for her.
He sighed, crossing his arms and waiting for her to impart her wisdom.
Impa sighed. "This skill requires not only an affinity for the element, but deep concentration and patience."
"Don't all skills require that?" he asked mockingly. She struck him, hard and fast, across the face. Surprised, he touched a hand to his cheek, then chuckled. "Well then," he said. "You have my attention."
Her lips curled upwards. "At long last. As I said, this skill requires concentration, something I'm not sure you possess."
Dark chuckled. "Trust me. I have plenty."
Her brow rose, her grin more than a little mocking. "Good luck, then."
She instructed him to stand at the mouth of the cave, his boots just outside the shadow cast by the crevice. At her command, he closed his eyes and summoned every bit of magic he had left. Magic coursed through his veins within seconds of his call; this part had always come easily to him. Fierce had claimed it took some magic users up to several minutes to even call upon their gift.
"Excellent," Impa murmured, clearly impressed.
He smirked. "Told you. Good concentration."
She gave him one of her calculating looks, as if she was concluding something about him that only she was privy to. It annoyed him.
He asked, "What now?"
"I suspect this next part will come simply to you," she predicted. "However, it is not without risks."
"You choose now to tell me that this technique is dangerous?"
"But extremely useful," she countered. "The Sheikah have used it for centuries. And for this you must use that part of you—the part that belongs to Shadow."
Dark shivered, unwilling to let himself be taken over again by the tainted energy. She sensed his hesitation, assuring him that it was not dark magic. Still resistant, he did as she asked and sought out the unfamiliar energy.
"It cannot control you," she explained. "You control it. It reacts to your emotions. The force you feel acting upon your body is its attempts to change you to a non-corporeal form."
"A what!?" he asked, panicked. "Non-corporeal form?"
She said sharply, "Shadow magic is not about destruction. It acts in the opposite way of Light; it is about change."
"Change?" he repeated, his voice still shaky.
He cursed under his breath. Swallowing his rising fear proved to be difficult when he felt the Shadow magic consuming him, pushing in on him. The pressure was suffocating. His body suddenly felt too heavy, too restrictive. Everything was pressing in on him; the rock walls squeezed in, the air constricted around him. Even the sky was no longer a limitless space. It was a ceiling that was several feet too low.
Impa's voice blessedly cut through the overwhelming pressure. "Shadow allows us to change what Light preserves. If you learn this, you will be able to bend the laws of the natural world. The easiest form to alter is yourself."
"How do I do that?" he asked, his voice coming out in a wheeze as if the air really was crushing his lungs rather than sustaining them.
"Let go," she urged. "Release yourself from your corporeal form. Your body is needed only in the physical world. Where you want to go, where Shadow wants to take you…your body does not belong."
His control loosened its tight grip. Electricity crackled in his veins, and he felt heat surge through him as the magic amped up. That suffocating pressure ceased, and a sigh escaped him. It was such a relief to let go of everything. So easy. She was right; his body was a burden he had cast off and left behind. He had form, thanks to the magic circling through him, but he was free.
The power made him feel as wild and dangerous as a storm. The weightlessness made him feel lightheaded. When his eyes opened, he was amazed. He wasn't looking at the earth. He wasn't looking through physical eyes.
Above him, the sky just didn't end. Every imaginable hue of blue colored it, like the most breathtaking painting he could imagine. Surrounding him was air, sparkling and magnificent—he was inside the center of a diamond.
Death Mountain had transformed before him. Her center glowed crimson, pulsing like a heartbeat. Red strands of light from the mountain's heart, like veins, extended down into the earth. Shadows in the rock became darker, softer. Places where the sun touched were simply grey, lighter shadows. They were beautiful, pounding in time with the mountain's heartbeat.
Nothing stood still. Everything was in a constant state of transformation. It hit him then; he was no longer on the physical plane.
He explored the unending space. It felt like he was warping; wherever he wanted to go, suddenly he was there. Everything was faster, brighter, more colourful and more exciting in comparison to the mundane, physical world.
But like a rude awakening from a spectacular dream, the physical world imposed itself on him. Something like gravity slammed him back into his body so forcefully he felt winded. The beautiful world he'd been in vanished, to be replaced by ordinary blue sky, dull rock and blinding sunlight.
"What…?" He felt dizzy. The sun was too bright.
A clapping sound reminded him of Impa's presence. "Very well done," she commended him. "The first time is always the hardest. You did well."
Dark groaned and tried to sit up. He was shocked when he couldn't. He felt like he was weighed down.
"Don't move," she advised. "This feeling will fade soon. It will get easier to come back with more practice."
He sighed, exhausted. If he wasn't already lying down, he'd collapse.
She knelt next to him, her arms crossed. Her finger tapped thoughtfully against her bicep.
"You used up all your magic," she said. "I'm astounded you're still conscious."
Managing a weak chuckle, Dark found the energy to lift his head before he blacked out completely.
It was easier than he'd expected to break in. The few short weeks of training Impa had put him through had taken more of a toll. But practice was one thing; this time, the entire operation depended on his success.
The guards who patrolled and oppressed Kakariko under Ganondorf's orders were dwindling in numbers. However, working by herself, it had taken Impa years to accomplish, even skilled as she was. The pair of men standing sentry in front of the armory were huge. Giant, muscular behemoths from the desert province. They had been brought up to be ruthless raiders from the time they could crawl.
From his vantage point on a nearby rooftop, Dark could see the organized patrol circling the building and surrounding area. The storehouse contained more than weapons and armour. It held much of the resources they had taken from the villagers—resources they badly needed back.
He hummed quietly, waiting for his signal from Impa. Flat on his belly, he only let the top of his head be visible over the rooftop. Lucky his black hair blended in. To his left, Link was hunched low. His fair hair shone like a fairy's wings—a dead giveaway.
"Is it time?" Link asked in a whisper.
"Not yet. Wait…" Dark peered into the blackness, seeking the blinking blue light he'd spotted to the northwest. Impa's signal.
"We're a go," he murmured. He tightened the strap fastened around his chest, and the sword at his back pressed more securely against his body. Patting his boot, he reassured himself that a hidden dagger was carefully tucked away. "Five minutes," he reminded Link. "No more."
He nodded in response, taking Dark's position as rooftop lookout. Dark scurried to the edge of the roof, shimmying down the side until his feet touched ground. It was now a simple thing for him to call upon his magic and melt into the darkness, re-entering the murky, mystical world of shadow.
He was more adept at using the shadows around him to move from one place to another, using anything he could to travel unseen. The sliver of a lamppost, the wide square of a building acted as markers that kept him from drifting aimlessly in the black.
What had proved to be challenging was not just abandoning his corporeal body for a time, but dissolving it into shadow as well. In the shadow world, it presented itself as a weight he carried with him and could manifest again in the physical world.
He slid between the sentries and into the shadow cast by the door. Once inside, he crept to a quiet corner and let himself be drawn back. He reappeared in the physical world, visible once more.
Managing to stay conscious and able-bodied this time, Dark hid behind some crates and counted the adversaries in the storehouse.
Two above, three below. Nothing too difficult. Impa had warned him not to use fire, so instead he summoned the smoky orb to his palm once more. He closed his fist, willing it to separate. When his hand opened, three smaller orbs presented themselves.
Sighting his targets, he hurled all three towards the men on the ground floor. It was their bad luck that they had broken formation and stood close together.
"Gotcha," he muttered, watching as all three dropped to the ground without so much as a gasp. The wonder of shadow magic was its stealth and efficiency. Of course, it alerted their friends upstairs.
A man's voice drifted down from above him. "What was that?" he asked in alarm.
Boots thudded on wood, and the remaining two guards appeared several feet to his left.
"Where are you?" the first man asked, drawing a sword. Dark was sure it could cleave him in two.
Quietly, he unsheathed his own weapon, one hand on his boot just in case. The two guards continued to search for him, knocking aside crates and throwing aside bags of grain. The second man let out a growl of frustration when they still couldn't locate him. When they drew too close, he slipped away, just out of reach.
A loud bang from outside caused him to jump in surprise. Accidentally, he jostled a crate of apples. He swore, knowing the sound caught the guards' attention.
"Over here!" the second man shouted.
Dark leapt from his hiding place, meeting the sword of the first man. His opponent grinned maliciously, no doubt imagining skinning him with that massive sword.
"There you are," the man grunted, taking a swing.
It was powerful, but clumsy. He was quick enough to avoid it. The behemoth reached for him again; Dark stumbled backwards, quickly finding himself backed into a corner.
"Now I've got you." His opponent grimaced, bracing his weapon to run him through.
The blade's point never made contact. Rather than spearing through flesh, it met hard wood. Dark watched the man's confusion from the shadows. Just in time, he'd melted into the darkness, his corporeal body safe from harm. While the guard was preoccupied scratching his head, he moved to the warehouse door. Now came the tricky part.
His ghost fingers stretched towards the obstruction, barely brushing the cool metal of the heavy lock. The storehouse was kept locked, from the inside, at all times. It was always patrolled.
"What the…?"
The guard's voice, raised in alarm. He chuckled, knowing how odd it must be to see nothing but two hands levitating before the door, picking the lock that held it closed.
Dark's trick was draining, however. Splitting himself between planes was dangerous, as Impa had warned. She would be here herself if her magic was powerful enough to split herself. He began to feel his stores of magic seeping away, leaving his body weak.
The lock dropped to the ground with a dull clang. His will wavered and Dark was pulled from the shadows, becoming visible to the guard once more.
"There you are!"
To his surprise, the guard made no move to attack, but pulled a carved object from his belt, raising it to his lips. His cheeks puffed as he blew into the horn, the sound of it long and low, reverberating through the large space and beyond. Covering his ears, Dark groaned as the note pounded through his skull.
His friend, unaffected by the horn's volume, regarded him. The man sneered. "This place will be crawling with my men in moments," he announced. "You've no chance."
His head pounding, Dark raised his head, reaching back to place one hand on the door's heavy wooden handle. "I'd say you're the one with no chance," he remarked, and threw the door wide.
The guard's jeering expression froze as a swarm filled the warehouse like bees reclaiming their hive. Impa had many friends in Kakariko, and they were angry. And armed, thanks to a secret cache in the graveyard the blacksmith had discovered.
It didn't take long. Kakariko's resistance fighters stormed the warehouse, overpowering the guards inside. The guards outside were taken out by Fayne's magic and Link's arrows.
By the time the sun set, Kakariko was free of her burdens. Impa quickly busied herself with the management of the storehouse contents, the organization of her vigilante fighters and capture of any surviving guards loyal to Ganondorf.
In the flurry of activity it wasn't difficult for Dark to disappear, no magic tricks needed. Walking out onto the cobblestone road, he turned north. The street inevitably led him to Kakariko's landmark windmill, turning steadily onwards. He bypassed the well, climbing the stone steps before the structure. They had been carved into the hillside with great care, winding back and forth as they guided him to the top.
Looking back, he admired the settlement's quiet charm. The village had always held some air of melancholy. It had survived through years of Hyrule's history—wars, calamities, raids, drought, sickness, strife. And yet it stood, quiet and wise, like an old soldier waiting for his next battle, knowing it could be the last.
He released a sigh, turning to continue his trek. Even this simple corner of the world had been touched by its grief. When he arrived at the tall border fence behind the mill, he stopped. Standing sentry at its gate, he gazed out at the prairie northeast of the village.
"I wonder what's out there."
He nearly jumped out of his skin he was so startled. Whipping around, he shouldn't have been surprised to see Link, who had clearly followed him from the warehouse. He braced himself against the fence, letting his heart rate slow to normal.
"Why do you ask?" he asked.
Link shrugged. "I've always been curious. I've never been that way before."
Dark shook his head. "There's not much. You can only travel a few miles east through forest before you reach Termina's border. And north…" He paused.
"What's north?" Link prompted.
"Nothing," he replied. "Not anymore. Keep going north and you'll find the mountain pass. It trails straight along the border, dividing Snowhead's range from Death Mountain's."
He was still talking when Link walked towards the nearest fence post and started scaling it. He'd reached the top and swung a leg over to the other side before Dark said something.
"What in Din's name are you doing?"
The blond grinned down at him, stretching a helping hand towards him. "Exploring."
Feeling a little resistant, Dark still allowed himself to be pulled up on the fence and followed Link down the other side. They set off on foot, following the ridge as a guide. Eventually it curved away, giving way to flat grassland. The steady pounding of rushing water could be heard to the west; a river that found its source in Death Mountain's peaks flowed over the high ridge, cresting in a short waterfall and feeding a small creek beneath it.
They followed the creek east as it snaked a trail through a modest valley. Small groves of trees dotted its banks, branches hanging down to dip in the clear water. It wasn't long before the edge of a forest could be spotted on the horizon.
The pair halted when Link noticed a stone bridge built over the water, weathered with age.
As Link went over to study it, Dark looked hastily away. Too easily his eyes caught the remains of a paddock fence embedded in the grass, pieces of a stone well, crumbled into the dust.
His mind was too quick to reimagine narrow streets, modest wooden homes, stables and stores. He could see the inhabitants of a village that once was, hear the sounds of a simple farming village calling from the past.
"There must have been a village here." Link's voice roused him, shaking him free from his memories.
"There was." His voice was hollow, haunted.
Link picked up on it immediately. "Dark?"
He sighed. There was no use in hiding it. "This village was my home. I was born here."
A hand rested on Dark's shoulder. He was surprised, but didn't flinch away. "What happened?" Link asked, his voice kind.
Dark knelt, wresting a piece of wood from the dirt's clutches. Even with all the time that had passed, it still bore the marks of fire. "It was burned to the ground," he replied hollowly.
"By Ganondorf."
He didn't need to affirm Link's guess.
"I am sorry," he said, fingers squeezing Dark's shoulder.
They continued to search the remains, though there wasn't much. It wasn't until they reached a nearby grove of trees that they found something interesting. It was a larger gathering of trees, separate from the forest, sheltering a modest-sized clearing.
Inside, to Dark's surprise, was dotted with a number of white markers. Made of stone, they were perfectly cylindrical and purest white. Each appeared to be carved. With a lurch of his stomach, he realized what they must be even before Link read the inscription on the nearby sign.
"The residents of Tellura are resting peacefully here. May their spirits be with the Goddesses," Link recited, raising his head to examine the nearest stone pillar. "They're graves." He traced the Hylian characters carved into the stone. "Unusual markers, though, huh? Dark?"
Seeing that his dark-haired friend stood unmoving before a headstone a few rows up, Link straightened and joined him. "Someone you know?" he asked.
Dark sank to his haunches before the grave, biting the fleshy part of his thumb sharply. "Yes," he mumbled in reply.
Link bent to read the inscription.
Naron
Beloved husband, father and son.
Brave warrior of Hyrule and soldier in service of His Majesty.
Dark pressed a palm to the stone, cool and smooth. His breath suddenly came in short gasps. "My…father," he forced out, his eyes seeking Link's. "Your…"
Link held his shoulders, urging him to stand. "It's all right," he said, concern for his friend stitched across his features. "It's all right."
Dark bent forward, resting his forehead against Link's shoulder for solace. Finding nothing suitable to say, Link responded by putting his arms around Dark's broad shoulders as they shook.
Link had lost many things in the past seven years, but he could only imagine the agony of losing a beloved parent. He had never had to face the pain of losing them; he'd never had any that he remembered.
Long moments passed before they separated. Dark didn't speak again as they turned towards the village, leaving the people of Tellura to their peaceful rest.