Lake Hylia, Lanayru Province

An unseasonable chill battered the vast plain. Summer was already nipping at the heels of spring, yet the trees had not bloomed, the grass had not grown. The once vibrant, green rolling hills were dusty, brown humps of earth that sloped sadly towards the Lake Hylia valley. Hyrule's southwestern corner had been renowned for its beauty.

Sheik had hardened his heart to the sorrowful sight. It was easier to bear that way.

Thanks to the efforts of Nabooru's fastest horse, he had crossed the desert with haste. Crossing the canyon had presented no challenge, thanks to the Gerudo captain's unspoken permission. He had almost reached Lake Hylia, his destination.

As his mount crested the last hill and the sapphire surface of the water came into view, he smiled. Behind the mask of Sheik, she felt a pang of sadness.

She had been to Lake Hylia only once before, as a young girl. She remembered fondly the lush valley, sheltered by the high, grey cliffs. The lake was Hyrule's deepest, and the water was clear as glass. On the best of days, the distant lakebed could be seen from the bridges that crisscrossed above it.

To her dismay, the water level had dropped alarmingly, the shore dried and cracked by the sun. It reached longingly into the near hollow basin, unable to quench its thirst. Most of the rivers in the south and Ordon provinces were fed by the lake, which meant the shortage was likely severe if the lake had drained this much.

Sheik dismounted next to the lakeside house, one of the only structures near the lake. As a protected site, by both the crown and the Zoras, Lake Hylia was free of permanent residents and frequent visitors. The scientist who lived in the lakeside laboratory had obtained permission to study the lake, and was an exception.

As far as Sheik could tell, the house had been untouched, as had the wooden bridges that connected the small island in the center of the body of water to the shore.

Leaving his horse, Sheik walked down to the stone pillars standing at the edge of the water. Six in total, they thrust out of the shallows, several feet higher than he was tall. Destroyed long ago in some forgotten conflict, they stood as a testament to the Zora colony that had inhabited the area.

Standing in the center of the pillars, he looked towards the lake. The small island was the focal point, the large, dead tree that grew there catching his eye.

His quest to find the Water Temple had been frustrating to say the least. The discovery of the Forest Temple's location had been pure luck; his steps had been guided by Saria, the Sage of the forest. Darunia had also been around to divulge the location of the Fire Temple to Link.

Unfortunately, the Sage of the next element—Water—was nowhere to be found. His search of Zora's domain had turned up nothing, and he hadn't the faintest idea how to melt red ice in order to interrogate the king of the aquatic race.

The library in the Desert Colossus had, at last, proved fruitful. The location was Lake Hylia; that was certain. Somehow, the clever Zoras had hidden their temple in the depths of the lake.

The question now was: how did he reach it?

~oOo~

Kakariko Market

Sienna considered the ripe, red globe in her palm. The freshly picked apple smelled sharp and sweet, the sunlight caressing it as if to claim it. Humming in satisfaction, she plucked three more from the stall and placed them in her shopping basket. Paying the shopkeeper, she thanked him before moving on to another vendor.

The market in Kakariko was delightful. The enticing smells and the heat of the sun had lured her out of the stuffy house.

Now that the dark cloud of Ganondorf's influence had left, however, the people were friendlier, feeling free to go out on the streets at all hours. Long into the night villagers frequented the pubs, letting their celebration be heard. The commotion had woken her some nights, but Dark had quickly soothed her back to sleep. Finding him awake didn't surprise her anymore; he rarely slept deeply, and when he did, he woke shaking and cold.

A warm set of hands encircled her waist, accompanied by a bristly chin on her neck and a curved mouth next to her ear.

"For me?" his familiar, deep voice inquired.

One hand reached out and plucked one of the newly bought apples. The lips brushing her ear moved to take a crunchy bite of the fruit. With a laugh, she peeked over her shoulder in time to see Dark wipe the juice from his mouth.

"Mmm," he said in approval. "Delicious."

"Glad you like it," she replied, amused by his blissful look as he continued to gnaw on the apple. "What kept you?"

He swallowed, waving the apple around as he spoke, "Link. We were training."

"Mm-hm."

Sienna watched him toss the stripped apple core into a flowerbox filled with soil. Slipping an arm around her waist again, he steered her towards the center of the square. When he started to give her a detailed account of Link's progress as a fighter and his own using Impa's shadow technique, Sienna had to stop him.

"Dark." She put a hand on his shoulder. "You've been training with Link every day, all day since we've arrived."

Seeing her expression, he stopped and took her hand, guiding her to one of the wooden benches huddled against the side of a building. "I'm sorry," he told her when they'd sat.

She flapped a hand dismissively. "It's important," she said, "Forget I said anything."

"It is," he agreed. "But so are you."

She smiled, resting one hand on his thigh. "He's your brother, Dark. Of course you want to spend time with him."

Suddenly defensive, he said, "That's not why I'm training him."

She laughed. "You can deny it all you want. But you like spending time with him."

Dark shrugged. "Doesn't make much of a difference."

"Impa told me there'd be a party tomorrow night. For the whole village; there'll be food and drinks and dancing…" she trailed off, her eyes dreamy. It'd been too long since she'd had a break from real life.

"Sounds like fun."

"You can spend the entire time with Link, if you like," she teased. "But promise me at least one dance."

With a smile, he leaned down to plant a kiss on her forehead. "I'll promise you at least half a dozen."

She made a sound of contentment, her fingers tracing patterns over the lean muscles of his thigh. He growled with pleasure, tilting his head to kiss her lips. His fingers slid across her neck, his thumb stroking her soft cheek.

Aware of the public forum, Sienna regretfully freed herself from his arms. Groaning in disappointment, he reluctantly stood. Graciously picking up her discarded basket, he offered her his arm. Taking it, she rose so they could finish the shopping. She wanted to be well stocked in case they left unexpectedly.

She didn't think Dark would leave Kakariko without his long-lost brother, but she knew Link had his own agenda. Dark had agreed to train him, but he wasn't in a hurry to leave.

From what he'd told her, Link was at a bit of a dead end. As she looked around the village and the revived, optimistic faces of the townspeople, she thought perhaps it was a blessing that Link's quest had been put on pause.

"There's one thing we should do before the festivities tomorrow," Dark said, rousing her attention.

"What's that?" she asked, curious.

He grinned, and directed her attention to a tailor's shop across the road. "We really should get you a new dress."

~oOo~

Hyrule Castle

Rigid with tension, her body taut in preparation of an impending attack, Imara kept up her usual brisk pace.

Stoically, she stared down the hallway, its richly carpeted floor cushioning the steps of her feet. The sconces on the wall were unlit, plunging the corridor into blackness. The rooms and halls in this wing of the castle were kept dark nowadays; the king suffered from debilitating migraines of late, and shunned any small light.

Now, apparently recovered, he had summoned her. His deteriorating condition had not gone unnoticed by his subjects, however. The Gerudo stationed at the castle talked in whispers, doubting their once fearsome leader—and whether he truly held the power he said he did.

Coming to a halt before the great doors of the throne room, she glanced left and right. The habitual guards were absent, arousing her suspicions. A knock on the door received no response from inside. Defenses raised, Imara pushed hard on the heavy door, carved with the Hylian crest.

The room was empty.

The hall was shadowed, rectangular patches of faint, blue moonlight piercing the darkness between the columns. Cautiously, she advanced towards the unoccupied throne, her steps echoing off the smooth stone floor and through the massive pillars. She stopped just before the raised dais on which the throne of Hyrule sat. Above it, the great monument extended towards the ceiling: a representation of the three goddesses, guarding the sacred treasure they had bestowed upon the Hylians.

Imara studied the face of the goddess at the very top, hands resting on the topmost triangle. Din.

The features of the stature were vague; it wasn't meant to be accurate. She wondered whether the goddess so revered by the Gerudo people would look down upon them with the same benevolence as her depiction here.

Somewhere behind the throne, someone howled in agony. The sound echoed through the chamber, ringing in Imara's ears.

She called out as she darted behind the dais, "Who's there?"

In answer there was another howl; someone was in immense pain. Her eyes fell on a tapestry hanging on the back wall. Behind the throne was a private area for prayer. The tapestry appeared to be purely decorative, but the orange outline of light gave away its secret: there was a room hidden behind it.

Another scream sounded as she gripped the loose fabric and ripped it from the wall.

The breath left her lungs.

"You must persist, my lord," a calm voice commanded softly. "It is working."

Imara, stunned, watched her sovereign as he lay on the hard floor, his body contorted from pain, his fingers clutching at the heavy shroud covering him.

"Alatar," Ganondorf rasped, bloodshot eyes seeking the other man in the room.

Her gaze darted to the thin old vulture circling her king. His voice didn't waver as he reassured Ganondorf that the pain would soon pass. Around the Gerudo leader's form a circle had been drawn, illuminated by magical flames in every corner of the room. The fires burned eternally, responding only to the sorcerer standing opposite her.

At last acknowledging her presence, the dark magic user raised his head. Clear, intelligent eyes the color of cold seas loomed out of a face reminiscent of a Stalfos. The skin was too pale, too sickly. His frame was all bones and no muscle, his heavy robe hanging rather than draping. His thin lips narrowed further upon seeing her.

"May I help you?" he asked softly, his voice deceptively invitational.

Imara glanced down at Ganondorf, hunched into a ball and groaning quietly as the invisible spell consumed him.

"He is healing," Alatar said, his cool eyes still on her.

"Healing?" she repeated in disbelief.

As if on command, Ganondorf relaxed, his limbs unfurling so he lay on his back. She bit back a gasp. The man had been ill the past several weeks. He'd looked to be on death's doorstep. Now, Imara was looking at a complete rejuvenation. His face had returned to its healthy bronze color, his cheekbones were less pronounced and his eyes were no longer plagued by dark circles. With a sigh, he rose to his feet, limber and strong.

He addressed the sorcerer, "Thank you, Alatar."

"My lord," the vulture replied, bowing graciously.

She took a step back as Lord Ganondorf turned to her. His features held a new arrogance and his attitude was confident and commanding. His fingers gripped her arm with newfound strength, startling her. The muscle mass he had lost during his sickness had returned—and doubled. She was in no doubt that he could crush every bone in her arm.

"Imara," he purred her name, his expression steel as he held her. "How many do you have at your disposal?"

"For what purpose, my lord?" she asked nervously.

A golden glow was reflected in his eyes, drawing her attention to the fist that bruised her. On the back of his hand, a small shape glowed darkly, pulsing with the promise of horrific power.

Ganondorf chuckled. "Takes as many troops as you need. You have a week to ready them." With a look of sudden disgust, he freed her arm, shoving her aside as he exited the small room.

Righting herself, she hurried after him. "My lord?"

Sighing with contentment, he reclined in the throne, stretching his legs before him and flexing his fingers. "I have a job for you, Imara."

Terrified, both of his perversion of magic in order to restore his fading power and the unfamiliar coldness in his gaze, she knelt before him, pressing her knees and palms to the cool, unforgiving floor.

"Yes, my lord." Her voice cracked.

Ganondorf had always been ruthless, willing to risk any measure to secure his victory. It had endeared him to his Gerudo people, who had seen him as a beacon of change, a leader who could bring them into a plentiful life.

She peeked at the fresh bruise encircling her bicep. Not once had she witnessed him lay a hand on one of his own. Never had he harmed one of his people, nor punished a subject who did not deserve it.

A frigid blast of fear coiled around her body, a warning. Whatever their leader had done to himself, he was no longer the same.

She could not trust him.

Ganondorf's eyes narrowed. "In a fortnight, Imara, you will march on Kakariko."