Chapter 1: Wind
A boy overlooked the desert, perched on a rocky outcrop high above the seemingly endless sand, glowing under the searing sun. This was his kingdom, not by conquest but by birth, for he was the male born to the Gerudo tribe that century. Often the boy left his village, for he was neglected as a person by the women there, and altogether seperated from his mother and the young girls.
He began his descent down the uneven rock slope, wind blowing sand wickedly against his face. At the base he raised his gauntlet clad hand to wipe sand from his face and shield himself from the sun's might.
He was young still, his face gentle and charismatic, complimenting his soft brown eyes. Upon his brow an elegant yellow gem rested, radiant in the desert light, a symbol of his mothers love, which had yet to embrace him.
The desert wind tore at him as he trudged northward, the shape of a small building growing ever clearer through the torrents of sand. The shape was that of a small building, a humble wooden shack, that stood battered by the endless winds. Upon reaching the shack the boy tapped upon the crude door. The howling of the wind obscured any inside noises, though within moments the door creaked open and a large eye peered out.
" Ah!" A somewhat frail voice exclaimed as the door was swung open. Before the boy stood a frail woman, her nose a great arc between her two scrutinizing eyes. An icy blue gem creating the illusion of a third eye of sorts lay upon her forehead. She was Kotake, an elderly enchantress who served with her sister as the boy's surrogate mothers.
" Is Koume well?" The boy spoke serenely, his eyes squinting as if he might see the answer.
" Of course, of course, she is just tending to Neira," Kotake stepped from the threshold," Come, enter!"
The boy stepped within, Kotake closing the door behind him, the sound of the swirling sands being drowned out behind it. Kotake ushered the boy along the small hallway, past uneeded candles, as light peered through thin gaps in the roofs construction.
" Stay the night will you? Night's not far and we cant have the frigid gale's rob us of our king!"
They came upon the main room of the shack, which was deceptively large. There was a gloomy and dank feeling about its outlying corners, as numerous thick potions lay stagnant around the room. However at the heart of the room a fire floated, pulsating. The fire was sustained at the fingertips of an aged woman, identical to Kotake, save for a stone as fierce as the flames reflected in it. By her side a young, soft girl sat,with flowing curls of brown hair descending before her steadily opening eyes.
The boys caring eyes embraced her timid gaze. Mutual adoration.
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He had been able to envision the perfect picture, but been unable to paint it. For all the power granted to him at birth it amounted to naught, he had opted to create, to heal, yet even now as rain came down in torrents upon his saddened features he was powerless. He had wished to change the Gerudo tribe from its lawless ways and turn it to a legitimate kingdom, he wanted everyone of his tribe to embrace outside differences and assimilate. But he was but a child, and worse yet, a man in the Gerudo's eyes, his title being no more than a formality when he mentioned any hint of change from tradition.
He lacked personal ambition, he knew this full well. He desired only to see the world about him as it should be, and yet even that he could not achieve. Now moreso than ever. He cringed as the thought came to mind. The image of Neira recoiling from the sight of him, whos only crime was to be that which he was born as.
Now it came in sight, a cluster of simple tents in the distance. To think that a single being confined within had caused him such anguish.
It had been so long since he heard the words, the words that killed his faith in the world. Neira wandered from the Gerudo paths as she returned to the village, the wind was far too fierce to walk against. Drunken hylian soldiers forced themself upon her as she came upon the pass. His heart broke upon those words, madly he had rushed to her side, only for her shaking shoulders to be turned. No word exists to express such denial.
All lost into the wind.