I don't own the Legend of Zelda

Being trapped between this world and the next, not truly existing, gave Ghirahim a lot of time to think. Too much time actually. As various thoughts swirled without rest through out his mind, Ghirahim began to talk to himself. There is only so many times that you can sit in almost complete silence (except for the whispering shadows which Ghirahim was determined to ignore) before you start to talk and mutter to yourself. He wasn't going mad, or at least that was what he told himself. From a hylian's point of view the bloodthirsty demon had always been mad, even if he talked rationally.

"Is this what I've been reduced to? Relying on someone who was once my enemy? We were fated to fight but he isn't supposed to help me. Will the Goddess even allow it? She's probably enjoying this, I know she is." He began to pace like an animal in a cage.

"Of course she is. I can almost hear her spiteful laughter. I expect she wants me to bow down and beg for forgiveness? I won't give her the satisfaction, I'd rather die in this empty place."
He hated to admit it but he missed the company of another living thing. Not even plants grew here, the only trees that he could see were long dead and their branches ominously looked like claws ready to rip him to shreds if he let them. He almost wanted them to, if they could. This was worse torture than anything he had ever endured, even than his cruel punishments and all the death that he witnessed when he was young.

His mind involuntarily cast itself back to that dark time of childhood, a time which he had tried to forget. The fog still curled around him, coaxing his brain into remembering the worst times of his life. He could feel despair all around him, and for once he did not enjoy this atmosphere. He relished in the despair of others, his own despair was not something which he wanted to dwell on.

Ghirahim saw his first dead body when he was just 7. He stood, as he often did, listening and looking through the crack of a slightly open door Demise's throne room. He stared in awe and admiration of his master, a truly powerful demon king who was practically a god. He sat in a large throne of obsidian which was carved with many ancient symbols. The room was large and many demon servants stood at the sides to attend to the king. The ceiling was so high that Ghirahim could hardly see it, and pillars of black and gold lined the edge of the chamber. The walls were carved as well, mostly with pictures of battles and wars. The floor and walls were made of dark stone and were cool to touch. Ghirahim loved to watch his master, even if he risked getting caught and punished. It pleased him to see how powerful and kingly his master was. His master, as Ghirahim had been told many times throughout his short life, had the right to rule over everything, even the surface which lay miles and miles above them. Ghirahim often wondered what this surface was like. Was it as dark as the demon realm, which was deep underground?

Demise's fiery mane of hair mad the air around him crackle with heat and he wore long black robes. He had a large sword placed on his lap, with one hand wrapped around its hilt. He looked intimidating like he always did and Ghirahim felt a shiver of fear. A demon crouched in front of the great king and he seemed to tremble also.

"My great lord Demise, you summoned me?" He was dressed in fine clothing of silk and was obviously one of the nobles who were important in keeping other, lower ranking, demons in line. Unfortunately some formed rebellious groups and built armies of their own, which Demise would crush like flies. This man knew exactly why he had been summoned, which is what made him tremble. Most people who are summoned never return from the throne room alive.

Demise's voice was low and deep like thunder, making the man seem even more scared. "Are you a loyal follower to me? Has that loyalty ever wavered?"

"N..no my lord I would never...I..I have always been loyal to you, my lord." He suddenly seemed a lot smaller and weaker as Demise towered over him.

"How dare you lie to your king. Do you know the punishment for disloyalty to me?" His voice was stern and commanding and echoed throughout the room.

The man was on his knees as he groveled to the king. "Please my king, please. I am loyal, I am. Please don't kill me."

Demise smiled, which somehow made him even more frightening. "I have no need for you."

In an instant Demise lifted his sword and pierced its mighty blade straight through the man's heart, making Ghirahim jump. He stared with fearful round eyes as the blade glistened with blood and the man fell face down. A pool of blood soon formed around him.

"I'm sure that your death will set a great example to anyone else who considers disobeying me." Demise turned to address some of the servants, who until now had been as still as statues. "Get this out of my sight."

Two servants came forward to carry the body, another wiped the blood off Demise's sword and a forth clicked his fingers and made a mop appear which he used to clean the bloodstained floor.

Ghirahim ran as far away from the room as he could, before the servants could take the body out of the room. He leaned against the door in his room, one hand over his mouth in shock and the other over his rapidly beating heart. He felt sick as he slid down to the floor and he trembled all over. Demons were immortal but they were still killed a lot, he knew that but he'd never seen someone die before. He gently rocked himself as he hugged his knees. Hot, salty tears fell gradually down his cheeks and he wiped them away with the back of his hand.

To calm himself down he tried to think of the story that one of the servants who looked after told him a lot. The servant's voice always soothed Ghirahim, and he tried to imagine it now. His shaking gradually stopped as he focused on telling himself the story which took place thousands of years ago.

"A long, long time ago after the world was made demons lived contently on the surface. These were Demise's creations and they were made to perfect in every way and age could never touch them. Time would not swallow them whole as it does with countless other creatures and they were gifted with magic. The Goddess Hylia soon became jealous of Demise's creations so she made her own. She called them Hylians and they were inferior to demons in almost every way. They had hardly any knowledge of magic and their lives were pathetically short. They were weak and cared too much for feelings that did not matter such as pity and they swarmed all over the surface, claiming it as their own. Hylia was angered when the demons resisted the hylians' invasion and accused Demise of creating monsters who had no right to inhabit the surface. Demise was naturally filled with wrath and declared war with the Goddess. But the Goddess was cowardly and instead of meeting Demise in battle, she cast a spell which banished all the demons down beneath the surface, into darkness to rot for all eternity. But there is an ancient legend that says that one day, long after the demons have been forgotten by mankind, they will rise once again. Then the Goddess will fall and a boy will descend from the sky. He will be the skychild, a strong warrior who would gladly give his life for the Goddess. A demon sword spirit would fight this skychild, to determine his tribe's fate."

He stopped rocking himself and buried his head against his knees. There he remained for the rest of the day, overcome with the shock of something that he would never be able to forget.

Back in the present, Ghirahim laughed bitterly. "The skychild wasn't much of a mighty warrior." He sighed. "Things didn't turn out quite as I expected. Fate is a strange mistress and she is cruel. As cruel as I am."

He sat on the ground, hugging his knees as he did when he was small. He wondered what else fate had in store for him and the skychild. The line of fate still bound them together and for some reason this pleased the demon. After all Link was his only ticket out of here. Only time would tell if he succeeded.