Author's note: We're almost done! Just a few chapters left. *There is a WARNING on this chapter for violence at the very end.*
Imara kept her breaths steady, measured. She would only have one chance.
The castle was empty of guards. Those who had not been ordered out or sent away were dead or imprisoned, forgotten by their tyrannical king. Ganondorf's erratic behaviour had grown once again.
The few remaining Gerudo warriors were gathered behind Imara as she crept along the passageway. There was nothing left to do but flee. To rejoin her sisters in the desert and beg mercy.
With the deaths of the witches, the spells placed on the Gerudo warriors who had grown rebellious to Ganondorf were broken. Imara and her fellow warriors were free, but they were by no means safe. Their king was a madman.
"Almost there," Imara whispered. A hand touched her arm, and she reached back to feel Aalrian's fingers in the damp darkness.
These tunnels, built centuries ago by Hylian royalty, were unfamiliar, but she knew they would lead them out. An escape plan for all those inside the castle. Her feet brushed something on the ground that rattled dully. Imara peered into the gloom—another skeleton. Too bad the escape strategy hadn't worked to save those fleeing for their lives during Ganondorf's first attack. His ghouls had popped up everywhere, even down here in the sewers.
Imara steeled herself as the tunnel took another twist. They would keep moving forward.
From the security of his chambers, Alatar watched the progress of the Gerudo women in the tunnels beneath the castle in the magic mirror. A gift that came in handy.
He wouldn't attempt to stop them. Their departure from their king's side, the man to whom they owed their loyalty, only confirmed what he knew. Ganondorf had lost the support of his people. He'd lost control of his kingdom, and of himself.
The man barely left the king's chambers, seeing no one. His guards and servants had all fled, been sent away or killed by the king's reckless orders. Ganondorf no longer cared that he inhabited an empty ruin of a castle, or that the people he ruled were rising in rebellion against him. That the land itself was in chaos. He only cared for the power the relic granted him—Alatar suspected it was the only thing keeping him alive.
He wondered if Ganondorf realized how vulnerable he truly was.
It mattered not. Soon, he would pluck from Ganondorf the very power he'd fought so hard to claim. Alatar would focus his attention on more useful pawns to achieve his goals, and let the shell remainder of the Gerudo king crumple.
Murmuring under his breath, Alatar watched the mirror's silver surface blur, erasing the image of the women. Settling, as smooth as glass, the mirror showed him his next target.
~oOo~
The raucous cheers of the Gerudo filled the abandoned village square, accentuated by the clang of their swords and spears as they pounded rhythmically against their ornate shields. Inside the circle of revelers, Dark and Nabooru faced each other—Dark in his usual black tunic, pants and boots, wielding his strange-looking blade, Nabooru glowing like a setting sun with a golden-hilted sword and matching shield.
Sitting on a rooftop for a better vantage point, Link watched his brother dodge a slash and retaliate with a strike to Nabooru's chest. The crash of metal striking metal was heard when Dark's blade bounced off the decorated shield. More cheers.
They had arrived at the rendezvous point a few days ago, awaiting the arrival of Impa and her fighters. With little tree cover in the open plains of Hyrule Field, they camped in the abandoned village to provide some protection.
The breeze brought Zelda's light, airy scent, telling him she was there before her stealthy footfalls on the roof. Taking a seat next to him, she nodded at the show going on below.
"Who's winning?"
"Not sure yet," Link replied, offering her a slice of the apple he'd brought for a snack.
Popping the piece into her mouth she shrugged. "They're fairly well matched. Would you fight her?" she asked with a teasing nudge.
Link winced when Nabooru landed a smart kick to Dark's thigh, knocking him off balance and causing a fair bit of damage, if the look on his face was anything to go by.
Link grinned. "I'm not so foolish as Dark."
She agreed with a laugh. Handing her another slice of fruit, Link studied her profile. He'd spent most of the days traveling or sparring with Dark and sometimes the Gerudo warriors. At night, the three Hylians dined with Nabooru and her warriors around the campfire, exchanging stories and jokes and enjoying themselves. It was a welcome reprieve from his troubled thoughts and the fight he knew was coming.
During the days of travel, he'd ridden beside Zelda, hoping to catch her in conversation, but she'd been unusually quiet. These past few days in the village, he suspected she'd been avoiding him, busying herself somewhere in the camp while he spent time with his brother.
Glancing at Dark, Link marveled again at the knowledge he had living family. It still seemed unreal.
"You and Dark have been spending a lot of time together," she remarked, sensing his thoughts. "It's nice to see," she added with a small smile.
"It's been really nice," Link said, glancing back at her. "It reminds me of the days we spent in Castle Town."
Her eyes shuttered with sadness. "Happier times," she agreed, a smile trying and failing to form on her lips. "They seem so far away now..." she trailed off, then winced guiltily. "Sorry, I suppose for you it wasn't that long ago."
Link shrugged. "It wasn't, but at the same time...I feel eons away from the boy I used to be."
Zelda's hand slid over his shoulder and she squeezed gently. "It's alright to miss that boy," she murmured. "In a way, we're doing all this for him. To return the world to how it should be."
Link nodded slowly. His worries wriggled back into his mind like weeds he couldn't get rid of, darkening his mood. Bittersweet memories of the past melted under fear of the looming future. The sadness lying like a veil over his heart became needles of anxiety. A slight pressure against his shoulder caught his attention. Turning his head, his chin bumped Zelda's head where she'd rested it against his shoulder. Her fingers reached for his between them, interlacing their hands and drawing them into her lap.
"We will make this right again."
Her words were a promise, he knew. Not just for Hyrule, but for him. Link squeezed her hand, tilting his head until it rested against hers. He could feel the steady rhythm of her breathing, hear the slow beat of her heart. The wind teased wisps of her hair free from her braid.
In the distance, the grey silhouette of Castle Town's walls stood, waiting. It could wait a little longer, he thought. Link closed his eyes and let his mind stay in the present.
Dark panted for breath, relishing the bout. His blood was hot, his muscles twitching, ready for another round. Nabooru had called for a pause, not wanting to overexert anyone. But Dark was impatient to keep going. Sparring, challenging himself, he felt in control again. It reinforced that he was in fighting shape. With every swing of the blade, Dark imagined he was sending a very clear message to Alatar and his devious shadows.
Nabooru reached for a canteen of water, tipping it against her lips after gesturing for two of the Gerudo to take their place in the ring. Wiping her mouth, she offered it to Dark.
"You're not so bad," she teased, punching him lightly in the shoulder.
He chuckled and took a drink. "Thanks." He nodded at her shield, edged with gold and rubies, bearing an artistic Gerudo design. "Very nice, by the way."
Nabooru hefted the shield so he could have a better look. "It may look pretty, but it's quite hardy," she said proudly.
"Not unlike the wielder," Dark teased back, winking.
Nabooru tossed her head back with a laugh. "We really should have you come visit us," she said.
"If Gerudo goldsmiths can teach me how they make such beautiful weapons, then sure."
"Is that what you were before this, then? A smith?"
Dark shrugged. "It was an option I was considering. Didn't much care for bomb-crafting or any of the other odd jobs I had in Termina."
"Hmm. I suppose once our Ganondorf problem is taken care of, you'll have plenty of choices to choose from." She looked up, and a slow smile lit her face. "Or perhaps Princess Zelda will snatch you up for the Royal Hylian army."
Dark followed her line of sight to spot Link and Zelda on a rooftop across the square. He laughed. "I think she already has a swordsman."
Nabooru swung the shield on her back and tucked her blade into its loop on her belt. She opened her mouth to speak, but whatever reply she made was lost on Dark. A harsh whispering voice invaded his ears, speaking in a language he didn't recognize.
Seeing he was no longer paying attention, Nabooru nudged him. "Dark? Everything alright?"
The whispering voice grew louder in his ears, unheard by those around him. Unwillingly, Dark's hand tightened on Deraphine's hilt, urging him to lift the blade, to strike...
His gaze snapped to hers. "Yes. Excuse me." Without a backward glance, he sheathed his sword and half-sprinted away from Nabooru and the other Gerudo. He hurried through the empty streets of the village, finding a storage shed that wasn't being used. Slamming the door shut, he breathed heavily, leaning his weight against the wood. The whispering voice still wouldn't shut up. He squeezed his eyes shut as his head started to ache, the pressure intensifying.
Dark...Dark...
"Quiet," he growled.
You will listen to me, the voice demanded. You will obey.
Dark inhaled a shaky breath. Alatar. He was trying to regain control. His fingers trembled where he'd braced them on the door. His head was ready to split open.
Dark's vision swam, then went completely black. Blinking, he tried to make sense of what was happening when the shroud lifted and he saw a new scene before him, though the sensation of the rough wood was still present under his palms.
Alatar stood in a circular room, still whispering in that weird language, his hands held out before him. When the sorcerer lifted his head, his eyes were pools of ink in a pale, gaunt face. Tendrils of shadow twined around the man's frame, draping over his outstretched arms, caressing his body.
"You will do as I ask," Alatar rasped, speaking with great effort. "Or she dies."
Sienna appeared at Alatar's feet, unconscious, helpless. The shadows began moving in a frenzy, reaching down towards her, hovering over her prone body.
"No!" Dark shouted. He couldn't move. His body no longer obeyed his commands.
"Take the Ocarina of Time," Alatar hissed. "Take the Ocarina and go to the Temple of Time. Come back to me, submit yourself, and she goes free."
The vision ended abruptly, shoving Dark back into his body. He clenched his hands into fists, scraping them on the door. He breathed shakily, sliding down to the floor when his legs refused to support him.
He couldn't let her die. He wouldn't.
Even as he lay on the floor of the shack, forming his plan, Dark knew it was doomed to fail. No matter the outcome, it was unlikely he would survive this. Fierce's warnings rang in his head, but he didn't care. He couldn't abandon Sienna.
Dark prayed the goddesses were listening. He would need all the help he could get. And if by some miracle he did survive, Link would never forgive him.
~oOo~
Dark waited until everyone had gone to bed for the night, for the camp to be quiet save for the first guard shift observing their rounds. He slipped from his bed, dressing in the darkness, strapping on his sword. Outside was quiet save for the faraway sounds of footfalls from the guards.
He could have used his abilities to sneak into the house where Link was sleeping, but he wanted to conserve every drop of magic he had. Moving carefully, Dark opened the door and crossed to Link's rucksack, methodically sifting through it until he found what he needed.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Link's sleeping form, Navi curled up in his hat next to his pillow. As much as this betrayal of Link's trust pained him, he couldn't second-guess himself. Nor could he reach over and shake his brother awake, ask him to come with him.
Sending a silent apology Link's way, Dark slipped back outside and walked a short distance away until he reached the dry village well. A new moon meant the blackness of the night hid everything, smothered the soft musical notes he played on the Ocarina.
As the notes echoed, Dark quickly placed the instrument on the well's rough stone ledge, where Link would see it in the morning. The magic he'd invoked swirled around him, enveloping him in light so bright he closed his eyes to shield them.
When the sensation of weightlessness and the tingling aftereffects of warping left him, he stood in the Temple of Time.
As a child, he hadn't ventured inside the Temple more than a few times. At night, torches were usually lit to welcome those seeking the guidance of the Goddesses or a place of solitude and reflection. Tonight, the hall was still and cold.
Flipping the hood of his long cloak over his head, Dark pushed open the heavy wooden door, scanning the outside courtyard and gardens. As he walked through Castle Town, he was surprised to see it as empty and abandoned as the temple. The road to Hyrule Castle was desolate, the entry gates missing, the guard towers smashed to rubble.
The castle itself was grey and hunched in its defeat, a parody of its formerly grand state. Walking into the enormous entrance hall for the first time, Dark felt he was missing the true impact of such a place.
Dust shadowed the huge staircase steps and balustrade. The floors and walls were bare to the stone. It was simply another empty home, another abandoned place.
Dark tried to imagine the missing pieces—the servants rushing through the halls line with portraits, paintings and tapestries of history, myth and story. Courtiers' laughter and conversation drifting from the ballroom during a feast. Guards in gleaming silver armour at their posts.
Alatar's whispering voice had returned, directing him where to go. Climbing the steps, Dark kept one hand on Deraphine, alert and waiting. But there was nothing.
He knew he was close to Alatar's chambers when dark magic slithered over his skin, causing goosebumps to rise. Inside the east tower, Dark found the chamber from his earlier vision, with Alatar and Sienna waiting for him.
She sat, still in shackles, in the centre of the room. It was bare save for torches mounted on the walls. Alatar stood behind her, his heavy robes engulfing him, his gaze sharp and hawkish.
"You've finally arrived," Alatar rasped.
Dark didn't take his eyes off Sienna. Too frightened to speak, she stared wide-eyed back at him, relief and fear showing on her face.
"Get on with it," a man's voice growled.
Dark saw now the figure keeping himself hidden in the shadows behind Alatar. He moved into the circle of light cast by the torches, and Dark tried to suppress a gasp as he laid eyes on his parents' killer.
Ganondorf was a giant of a man, strong and muscular. With a proud face, sneering lips and predatory eyes. He wore the guise of a king, with a blood-red cape hanging off his black epaulettes. His armour was well-worn, battle-hardened, as he was. Despite his size he moved with the controlled grace of a warrior.
Ganondorf's eyes burned with hatred as he looked at Dark. "He looks just like his father," he remarked, his mouth curling in disgust.
Grief slashed at the wound in Dark's heart, salted by anger as he glared at his father's murderer. Dark's fist clenched on Deraphine, but he made no move to attack.
Alatar began moving his hands, murmuring an incantation in a low voice. Shadowy arms rose from the floor at Dark's feet, latching on to his wrists and forcing him to his knees. They wrenched away his weapons, leaving him defenseless.
Alatar stepped closer to Sienna, drawing his attention. From his robes, the sorcerer produced the sinister blade he'd used on Dark in the Tower of Winds, holding its lethal edge to Sienna's throat. Gasping, she tried to flinch away. Alatar seized her hair in a tight fist, drawing her head back and exposing her vulnerable neck.
Dark struggled against the magical bonds, but Alatar pressed the blade hard into Sienna's skin. A drop of red beaded on the metal. Dark immediately halted his struggles.
The sorcerer gave him a twisted smile. "I've learned how useful fear can be," he said, observing Dark. "Self-preservation is an amazing instinct, especially when motivated by fear. Yet you become all too self-sacrificing when you fear for someone you care for."
The dark magic he'd felt earlier began to press in on him. Sink into him. Dark braced himself against the pull of Alatar's magic, his desire for possession. The pressure in his head pounded against his skull, the mark on his chest began to throb as arcs of white-hot pain seared through him.
Bound by the shadows, Dark gritted his teeth against the growing pain. The shadows crawled over him, into him, eating him alive. The shadows found his weak spot, the curse scar on his chest. Dark doubled over, howling with agony as the shadows seemed to rip into him, prying open his heart.
"Stop fighting it," Alatar hissed, his knuckles white on the knife's handle. "Or she dies."
"Dark," Sienna choked. Tears streamed down her face, leaving tracks through the dirt on her cheeks.
He wanted to close his eyes, he wanted to tell her to look away. Every ounce of focus went into resisting the curse, into not giving in. He knew what Alatar would ask him to do.
Hurt her...kill her...obey me.
Still fighting the curse, Dark's body struggled to obey the commands of Alatar. His fingers scratched at the floor, trying to drag him towards Sienna. The shadow-manacles loosened their hold, and Dark flung himself away from Alatar, scrabbling for his sword. Fresh waves of pain struck him, leaving him breathless.
"Dark!" Sienna was sobbing now, calling out to him.
Alatar was muttering again, his voice an angry hiss. Dark struggled to his knees, facing Alatar and Ganondorf. He locked eyes with the tyrant king.
"I will kill you," he promised, his breath coming in pants.
Ganondorf smirked. Dark lunged, breaking free of the shadows long enough to reach out of his hands to strike Ganondorf. Something yanked him backwards, and he crashed to the floor.
Through Ganondorf's dark laughter, he heard a new order: Take it from him. Steal the piece.
Pain radiated through his entire body, but Dark found himself on his feet, the curse directing him. He felt stronger, powerful. With the dark magic inside him, he was invincible. Faster than he'd thought possible, Dark was in front of Ganondorf again.
Lifting his fist, Ganondorf released a wave of energy. It hit Dark in the chest, sending him crashing into the opposite wall. His ribs broke, his head rattled from the force, yet the curse didn't release him. It forced his body forward again.
This time, when Ganondorf raised his hand, Dark saw the glowing light on the back of his hand. The Triforce of Power.
Take it, Alatar urged. Take the power.
Dark seized Ganondorf's wrist, and the shadows leapt to tie them together. Ganondorf tried to pull back, but the dark magic held him captive, joining their hands. The Triforce symbol glowed still more brightly, fighting off the attack from the curse.
Ganondorf turned to his sorcerer, realizing his plan.
"You traitor," the king hissed. "You think it is so easy to take away my power?"
Alatar, having released Sienna to focus on strengthening his hold over Dark, sneered back. "I gave you your power. You are no longer of any use to me."
The struggle between the force of Power and the grasp of the curse formed a magical barrier around Dark and Ganondorf. The king tried to push Dark away, but the curse had taken hold, forcing Dark to keep fighting though his strength was giving way. Dark watched as if outside himself as Ganondorf gritted his teeth, the Triforce's glow throwing harsh shadows across his face.
As the curse took control, he felt himself slipping back into oblivion. Dark tried to turn his head to Sienna. If he could see her, he could fight it a little longer. Maybe long enough.
"Would you take the Triforce of Power?"
Dark whirled in the other direction. A tall, red-haired woman watched the struggle between him and Ganondorf. Her muscular arms were crossed over her chest, her long hair swept back into a ponytail, highlighting bold, beautiful features. Her dark eyes were fixed on where he gripped Ganondorf's forearm, the shadows twisting, writhing, fighting against the glow emitting from the back of the king's hand.
Her presence seemed to make time move more slowly. As if he moved through water, their joined hands vibrated from the energy surrounding them.
She lifted her gaze to meet his, awaiting an answer to her question. Ganondorf was unaware of their visitor, for he kept his attention on their conflict. Alatar continued to mumble, trying to increase the effects of the curse.
"I don't want it," he told the woman. "I won't take it."
When she uncrossed her arms, the golden bands she wore around her biceps glinted. Stepping forward, she aimed a glare at Ganondorf.
"Not everyone understands what Power really is," she told Dark. "It needs to be protected by someone who does."
An image flickered through his mind of Sheik, unconscious, the back of his right hand glowing brightly, just as Ganondorf's did. One of the Triforce pieces.
"You want me to protect it?" he asked her, disbelieving. At her enigmatic stare, Dark shook his head. "No. I can't."
He glanced at Ganondorf, his expression full of rage, his features drawn, exhausted from prolonged exposure to dark magic. His desire for the Triforce had driven him to slaughter, to destroy. To siphon yet more power in any way possible, even at the expense of his own life force. Dark was already corrupted by the shadowy curse. And Alatar wanted him to seize the Triforce of Power, so he could control it through Dark.
Who knew what he would do with the power of the goddesses?
"I can't let him have it," Dark said, grunting when another sharp bite of pain erupted in his chest. Apparently slowing down time didn't take that away.
"If you do not, you cannot hope to break this curse."
Hope burst in Dark's chest. "It can break the curse?"
Slowly, she nodded. She held out her hand to him, palm open. "Accept a small piece of my power," she pleaded. "And it will change the outcome."
Dark hesitated. He moved his hand towards her, but his fears held him back. As if sensing the grab for power, the shadows slithered down his other arm, too, ready to latch onto her.
"Take it," she urged, uncaring of the threat. "All you need is a piece."
Grasping her hand, Dark was surprised to see his own pass right through it as if she were a ghost. Holding his hand level with hers, he could feel the waves of energy she emanated. The shadows began to recoil, shrinking away from her.
With her free hand, she touched the leather gauntlet covering Ganondorf's right arm. A surge of pure energy rocketed up Dark's left arm. The pain in his chest amplified until he thought it would break him open, but he held on to her.
Golden light surrounded the three of them in a halo, and it chased away the shadows still clinging to him. The agony caused by the curse began to recede, and Dark felt only the incredible, strength and vitality granted by the golden light.
"NO!"
Ganondorf's burning gaze was fixed on the woman's face. He ripped free of her grasp, his lip curling in a snarl. The connection broken, Dark flew backwards, colliding with the stone wall. Stunned, Dark let himself slide to the floor and tried blinked to clear his vision.
The woman had vanished. Alatar was staring at Ganondorf in shock and fear.
The king turned to the sorcerer, lifting his fist to show him the symbol of the Triforce of Power, still illuminated. Dark blinked again. Was it dimmer than before?
"You thought it would be so easy?" Ganondorf spat. "I will not forget this, Alatar."
Sneering, Alatar seemed to recover from his shock. He glanced at Dark, who was struggling to his feet.
"For your failure," Alatar hissed at him. He stepped forward, snatching Sienna by the hair. She cried out when the sorcerer yanked her head back, exposing the vulnerable column of her throat. The knife was clutched in his thin fingers.
Dark lunged forward and tripped on unsteady legs. He collapsed a few feet short of her, reaching out to her. Alatar didn't hesitate.
Hot blood sprayed Dark's face and chest. Sienna dropped to the floor, her pale face frozen, her eyes too wide. Alatar warped, vanishing in an instant. Dark crawled to Sienna, lifting her into his embrace.
"Sienna." His voice came out hoarse. His head pounded. Pushing the hair from her face, he felt the sobs shaking him when he saw her wide-open eyes, staring sightlessly.
Her throat had been ripped open, splashing the front of her dress in red. Her hands lay limply at her sides, fingertips trailing on the floor.
Pressing his forehead to hers, Dark let out a howling scream. She was slight in his arms, and he held on still more tightly, a steady stream of tears tracking down his face.
A metallic ring sharpened his senses. He looked up from Sienna. Ganondorf, watching with cool indifference, had drawn his sword.
As he advanced, Dark cradled Sienna against him, meeting those hateful eyes.
"The witches warned me," Ganondorf rasped, stopping just in front of Dark. "Of a Hylian soldier who would be my undoing." The king scoffed. "He wounded me once, during a battle. When his helmet was removed, I knew he was the one." Ganondorf's fists tightened on the hilt of his weapon.
"Though he's dead, he continues to haunt me. The prophecy has changed." Ganondorf's voice changed, was barely more than a whisper. His gaze was focused on Dark, cold and merciless, but he was staring into the past. "I see his offspring coming to finish what was started. One from the shadows...one from the forest."
Ganondorf lifted his greatsword like an executioner, its broad edge more a hammer than a blade. Dark tucked Sienna's head under his chin, his bloody hand staining her hair.
He refused to look away from Ganondorf. His eyes were no longer the same as his father's, but he hoped the tyrant saw every trace of Naron in Dark's features. He hoped it haunted him.
With a shout, Ganondorf swung the enormous sword, the Triforce on his hand emitting a faint glow. Instinctively, Dark raised his left hand to protect himself. A halo of light burst from his outstretched hand, halting Ganondorf's attack.
Shock painted itself across his face as he was forced back, unable to harm Dark.
"What is this!?" he roared, glaring at Dark in accusation.
Dark gaped at his hand, at the mark of the Triforce of Power there, flickering feebly. The mark was incomplete, showing only a tiny part of the topmost triangle. The Triforce's power was a weak strain, twining itself along the magical energy in his body. It was enough.
Dark commanded every drop of magic he had remaining into one single thought: escape. Responding to his wish, the Triforce offered him just enough power to warp. Shivers broke out on his skin and he pictured in his mind the first place—the safest place—he could think of.
Ganondorf's roar echoed in Dark's ears as he clutched Sienna's body tightly, letting the Triforce's power take over as the tower's stone walls melted into nothingness.