Chapter 3- Eyes of Malice
Year of Bosphoramus 122, 1st Day of Nayru
Much has happened since my last entry. I have been relieved of my hair, a company of Sheikah men have a lead on Link's whereabouts, and most importantly—I have begun preparations for my quest to reclaim the Divine Beasts.
Without the Sheikah Slate that Link possesses, there is nothing to do but endlessly plan and revise—an unending process that keeps me awake long into the night. I have been troubled by nightmares of late—ones I cannot recall upon waking except a sense of unease and something murmuring into my ear.
I have decided to go to Zora's Domain first, making Divine Beast Vah Ruta my first target. There have been reports of travelers being driven back by torrential downpours. Even from the village, I can see ominous black clouds hanging over the Domain. Ruta has the power to produce near endless amounts of water, so I fear that it may have something to do with the mysterious storm.
Precautions have been taken to prepare for my journey. The trader who brought me here was sworn to secrecy about my identity—but it seems that regardless, rumours of a princess of old awakening and "walking among us" have spread through Dueling Peaks Stable and surrounding areas. Both Impa and Purah advised me to disguise myself… and the easiest way to do so was to cut off my distinctive golden hair. I feel naked without it and avoid mirrors whenever possible.
Paya has been tasked with tutoring me in defensive skills. I was hesitant at first, as Link has tried many times to do the same with rather unfavourable results (thank Hylia that Mipha was readily available with her healing ability…). Rather than teaching me to handle a sword, however, Paya has been teaching me to throw knives and shoot a bow—both of which I'm having a surprising amount of success with. Link always scoffed at ranged weapons, saying that they are fickle with finite ammunition, and no good in close quarters. However, I quickly discovered that he is terrible at archery, which may have been the truth behind his disdain. Perhaps now I will have something to teach him in the way of combat.
Hefting the bow Paya had given her, Zelda sighted down the red circle nailed to a post on the far side of Impa's courtyard. She planted her feet exactly shoulder-width apart, turning so her side was parallel with the target.
"You m-might laugh, but it's very important to look at what you're shooting at," Paya had stressed earlier that afternoon. "It seems obvious, but m-most beginners close their eyes when they fire. You c-can't hit what you aren't looking at."
Zelda drew an arrow from the quiver belted to her waist and pulled the string back to the corner of her mouth. The wind gusted slightly, cutting through the thin sleeveless tunic she wore. Paya hadn't yet taught her to adjust for the wind, so she sent a silent prayer to the Goddess before letting the arrow fly.
The string snapped against her exposed forearm, leaving behind a sensation of heated wire being held to her skin. She swore, dropping the bow and clapping her palm over the welt. Looking ahead, she saw that the arrow had found its mark slightly left-of-centre.
"Almost worth the bruise," she grumbled, picking up her bow and her cloak, which lay in a crumpled heap by her feet. She shivered slightly in the evening breeze, pulling her hood over her shorn head as she went to retrieve her arrow. To her satisfaction, it had buried itself almost halfway its length into the wooden target.
The sound of hoofbeats caught her attention. Link. They've found him. Not bothering to put away her bow and quiver, she raced from the courtyard to the village square.
Cuccos squawked and scattered as eight riders galloped into Kakariko, their steeds frothing at the mouth, sides heaving. Without warning, two Sheikah ninjas materialised by her side, their hands going to the hilts of their weapons. Had they been so close this whole time?
Dorian led the company, his broad form easily recognisable atop the chestnut drafthorse he rode. But someone else sat in front of Dorian, gripping the horse's mane. Someone slight and slender, with a ragged curtain of dirty-blond hair hanging over their shoulders…
Zelda let out a small cry, taking a step forward as the company halted in the square, the horses kicking up clods of dirt and puffs of dust. Link was alive. She hadn't somehow driven him into the sights of some Guardian, or to the slim mercy of a roaming band of monsters.
One of the ninjas held out her arm, blocking her path. "Wait, your Highness. It might not be wise to approach just yet."
A crowd had begun to congregate in the square as the riders dismounted, their horses slick with sweat from their long journey. Hushed whispers rippled in every direction, only snippets of which reached Zelda's ears:
"—the Hero?"
"No, it can't be…"
"—the Sheikah Slate, you see? Only he would have—"
"—not what I expected."
Up close, Link had clearly run into some misfortunes during the time he'd been missing. His arm was strapped diagonally across his chest, indicating a broken collarbone. A large chunk had been torn out of his right ear. Both eyes were ringed with puffy, yellowing bruises and were unfocused, the pupils wide. They must have given him something, Zelda realised as Dorian helped him dismount. Link stumbled as his boots touched the ground, unable to stand without Dorian's assistance. Risk be damned—Zelda pushed past her guards, rushing towards him to help.
Link flinched.
Zelda froze, cold despair rooting her to the ground. Hylia, could he still be frightened of her? Would he ever look at her the same way again, without fear clouding his eyes?
No, it wasn't her—Link's eyes, still slightly lucid, flitted around in agitation. Zelda suddenly realised just how closely the crowd was pressing in, eager for a look at the Hero. Zelda stepped towards them, holding up her arms.
"Allow us space." Her voice rang out across the square, silencing the murmurs. "Please, return to your homes. Hyrule's Champion requires rest."
Unwilling to disobey a direct order from her, the throng reluctantly dispersed as Zelda bolted up the stairs, heaving open the heavy doors to allow Dorian and Link into Impa's home. Dorian nodded to her as they passed.
"You may not be queen yet," he commented. "But you certainly play the part well, your Highness." Zelda blushed all the way to the tips of her ears, hurrying ahead of them to alert Impa of their arrival.
Impa and Paya hastily cleared the kitchen table, allowing Dorian a flat spot to lay Link down as Purah fetched her medical equipment from upstairs. Zelda dithered uselessly by the door, watching Link's gaze dart restlessly around the room.
If this had been old times, she might have held his hand. There was an ancient law that no man may touch a princess of Hyrule, but in a case like this, if it would bring Link the slightest sense of comfort, she would be inclined to break it. Unable to bear the thought of adding more distress, she hung back, stepping aside as Purah entered the kitchen, struggling under the weight of an absurdly large black box. Dorian went to help her carry it, but she turned hastily away from him, nearly toppling over.
"Don't!" she snapped. "Extremely… delicate equipment."
She set it down on the floor next to the head of the table, pressing her palm against the top of it. A glowing blue eye, identical to the one engraved into the Sheikah Slate on Link's hip, shone for a moment before the box split in two, the top half folding back to reveal a screen. In the bottom half rested a peculiar web of thin wires in a half-sphere shape, shining blue like the eye sigil. Purah took this out, spreading it out with her fingers and bringing it towards Link's head.
He jerked away from her, eyes wild. Purah frowned and attempted again to fit the wire matrix over his brow, but Link thrashed even more desperately, his good hand scrabbling at the wooden tabletop.
"Stop it!" Zelda burst out, balling her fists. "You're frightening him!"
Swiftly, Dorian approached the table, pulling a small purplish branch from his pouch. He carefully plucked a thorn from it, using it to pierce a raised vein in Link's forearm. Link instantly relaxed, his face slackening. Torpor thistle, Zelda thought, rubbing her wrists. I've never seen it used that way.
Purah finally got the wire cap into place, which pulsed gently as soon as it made contact with Link's body. The black box's screen began to fill up with scrolling glyphs that Zelda could not decipher.
"What is that box?" Zelda asked, trying to keep a tremor from her voice. "Is that code telling you—"
"Not now," said Purah curtly. "Everyone out but you, sister."
And so they waited. Dorian stood stiffly by the kitchen door, occasionally shifting from foot to foot. Paya began polishing a curious, carved sphere displayed in the entrance hall that bore similar symbols to the ones appearing on Purah's screen. Zelda sat slumped against the wall, finding herself suddenly exhausted.
For a moment, the room seemed to tilt, her vision dissolving into blackness. She found herself immobilised, forced to look on in horror as a ghostly cloud solidified before her, taking on a shape not unlike that of a boar. Red lightning flashed and sparked as the beast reared back its head and gave a bone-trembling roar. Distantly, a guttural voice chanted in a language that Zelda could not understand but recognised nonetheless—it was Ganon's own black tongue.
A lone figure stood before the creature, the skull of some horned animal resting atop her curtain of wine-coloured hair. Her bare skin was painted with spiked, spidery symbols—the very sight of them made the hairs on Zelda's neck rise. She held her arms over her head, seeming to reach out in adoration to the beast.
Ganon's eyes, bottomless yellow pits of fire, bored into Zelda's own. It bellowed, making the woman turn, her silvery eyes widening with surprise. She was clearly of Gerudo descent, but curiously bore the same tattoo on her forehead as Impa and Paya. Her eyes narrowed as she began to walk towards Zelda.
This isn't a dream. I've been seen.
Zelda forced her eyes shut, the aftereffects of lightning dancing before her, Ganon's roars barraging her eardrums…
"Zelda!"
She gasped as if surfacing from a prolonged dive. Paya knelt before her, gripping Zelda's shoulders rather painfully. Dorian was there as well, the lines in his face deepening with concern. Zelda shivered, her body stiff and soaked with sweat.
"J-just a dream. It's nothing."
"We couldn't wake you, Princess," said Dorian gravely. "You were rigid; whispering in tongues…"
"You're feverish," Paya observed, laying the back of her hand against Zelda's forehead. "Perhaps if you got some rest—"
"It's nothing!" Zelda shoved Paya's hand away.
Immediately, she regretted what she'd done—Paya fell back onto her heels, lower lip quivering.
"M-my apologies," she whispered, bowing her head. "Please excuse me, Princess."
"Paya, I—"
But she had already gotten up, trotting towards the staircase with her hands over her face. Bitter tears burned in Zelda's eyes—she scrubbed furiously at them, unwilling to cry in front of Dorian.
"I'll apologise tomorrow," she said brusquely. "Is there any news on Li—the Champion?"
Dorian shook his head, raising an eyebrow slightly at her slip. "Not yet, your Highness. I too would suggest retiring until morning."
Zelda sighed, squeezing her wrists. "Wake me if there is any news."
Dorian nodded, bidding her goodnight as she climbed the stairs. She hesitated by Paya's room, rapping her knuckles gently on the doorframe. No answer. Swallowing hard, she eased the door open.
Paya lay on her cot, her back turned to Zelda as she entered. She did not stir. Guilt rose in Zelda's throat like bile as she hung up her quiver and bow, not bothering to unstring it. Stripping off her sweaty clothing, she crawled into bed, still shivering with gooseflesh that had erupted all over her back and arms.
Despite the fact that Paya did not turn over once that whole night, Zelda felt the distinct sensation of being watched.