[Trigger warning: Self Harm]

Ghirahim stormed away. He gritted his teeth against the noise that still rattled in his mind. His scowl turned into a grimace as his hands rose to cover his ears.

That went well.

A familiar voice hissed, crackling like flames. The fire continued.

She made a fool of us.

Ghirahim huffed and brushed his fingers across his wounded shoulder. He studied the damage as he walked, his brow knotted in thought. That ended terribly. Images of the vire and Fi's form danced across his imagination. A growl rumbled in his throat. How could he let her distract him like that? Ghirahim scolded himself for his weakness.

The castle staff rushed past him, parting around him like water in a stream. None looked up at a monster.

Don't bother with them or...her. She may think she has won this round, but the game is not over yet.

Ghirahim actually laughed out loud

"Really? I would say it's over."

He muttered, his shoulder still ached.

Now, now...not quite. Come now. There's somewhere I want to go. It may bear fruit.

The fire cooed. Ghirahim felt a twitch in his legs. He dug in his heels, but they still itched to move.

Could you not make me force us? I want to see the temple. Don't you? I'm sure there will be something interesting to learn there.

Ghirahim frowned, but his curiosity peeked. Maybe they could find something, anything to use against the wretch and her master. His heart twinged, but the fire snapped before he could dwell on its meaning.

No! Wretch is a proper title! Do not forget what she has done.

Ghirahim was urged on towards the temple where the Master sword was no doubt kept.

It did not take long to walk there. Thankfully, for a moment, the fire had shrunk away, giving him a moment to think without being accosted. Had the vire been too much? Even if it was hilarious to watch...then...why did he feel bad? Every time he thought back to Fi's demeanor, a heavy weight pressed down onto his shoulders.

A quiet had settled over this side of the grounds. His eyes wandered to the hedges that lined the stone path leading towards the temple. The bulwarks were barren as most of the soldiers were still working to secure the grounds fully.

The moon rose just above the horizon, and Ghirahim slipped passed a gate to enter the temple garden. He noticed some activity inside; candlelight floated past the stained glass windows. With a snap, the world blurred around him, and everything returned to focus inside.

Tall candelabras stood at the base of each mighty pillar that stood in two columns lining the center aisle leading to the dais at the very end where the Master sword was stored. Pews ran in rows perpendicular to the pillars. Enormous stained glass windows adorned the walls. The centerpiece depicted an image of three goddesses, Farone, Lanayru, and Din, all around their respective pieces of the Triforce. Silver light poured in and draped the aisle under a thin veil.

The scent of fresh incense burned his nostrils as he pressed himself up against a pillar. A woman dressed in simple robes worked on tidying up the remainder of the grand hall. Ghirahim watched her work to remove decaying bundles of flowers amongst the pile of bouquets resting around the Master sword. She seemed unaware of his presence as she then carried them away, disappearing behind a door at the far end.

Ghirahim cast his eyes up at the ornate glass artwork glowing softly in the moonlight. He wondered how it must look in the daylight.

Quite prideful for people who claim humbleness.

He sighed as the blaze returned, shooting up his feet before it settled in his belly. The demon slowly strode down the aisle as he took in the depictions of each goddess and other historical events from the past. His eyes lingered on the image of Din for a moment longer than the rest before he turned his eyes back forward.

Tsk, pathetic...

Ghirahim stopped once he reached the platform covered in flowers. Another brightly colored window overlooked the platform bathing the dais in a myriad of colors. A statue of the goddess, Hylia, stood to watch over the temple hall.

It was hard to believe when he thought about how the world had changed and how it seemed the conflict never truly ended. But, it seems he was still bound to the losing side. He winced as the pain in his shoulder worsened.

Look at all this. Here I thought she wouldn't want this kind of praise, and yet...how hypocritical. Now-

"Enough."

Ghirahim groaned, and he turned away from the platform and sat down in a pew. He set his tattered mantle aside. The fire rose in him.

Careful. Now.

The demon leaned back in the pew. Both the fire and darkness spoke now. Heat crawled along his skin, settling to blaze across his wounds. Ghirahim placed his head in hand for a moment. His frown deepened. Thoughts and images pushed their way into his head as the night's events played on loop in his mind. Everything started to go numb, starting in his fingers.

Hours drifted by, candles flicked out, and the pale shadows shifted across the marble floor. He changed position, now leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. His hands splayed to match his pensive mood. There was a soft twinkle of magic back by the entrance, pulling Ghirahim from his thoughts.

He waited until the aura got closer. Fi had come as he knew she would.

"So, this is where they put you..."

His eyes flicked to his left, and he watched the female spirit float up to the sword she was bound to before turning to face him. Fi really did reflect the appearance of her cage. Ghirahim did not, however; his blade vessel mirrored his master more than himself.

"Correct, this is where they laid me to rest in this lifetime. It is not always the same place."

Convenient...

Ghirahim looked up at Fi, noticing how she seemed to assess his condition.

"Oh yes, but they adore you regardless, it seems."

Always...

Ghirahim replied, standing up. He looked back at the pew. Blood had run down his back and coated the bench in a thick oily shine. However, his wounds did not bother him at the moment. Something flashed through her; he saw its shadow in her eyes. There was more there besides apathy. The mere thought of her pity summoned bile to the back of his throat.

"I'll survive, much to your chagrin, I'm sure. It was very noble of you and your precious Zelda to sacrifice me to that creature like that."

Curious...

His voice dripped with venom. In hindsight now, he could almost applaud their cunning.

"So, I grew curious, for I would never have thought those who claim to serve the light could do such a thing. I came here hoping to find some answers and a quiet place to think. It seems the peoples' adoration of you knows no bounds. History has been kind but biased; it would seem. They paint you as a beacon of justice that banishes evil and defends the weak."

Lies...

He gestured to the scene around them to the images etched in the glass.

"Yet, the old stories are lost. Cast aside to rot while the humans of each age were fed a carefully crafted story. One with the timeless triumph of good over evil. Where the light can do no wrong only destroying what was necessary yet any creature or being labeled as evil has been thoroughly scrubbed clean from the realm and any unlucky soul to be spared are robbed of their heritage."

Rent! Stolen! Cast aside!

Anger burned in him and the voices as they cried out. He snarled and glared up at her as she stared down at him. He was about to continue when she interrupted him.

"The construction of your eloquence is an effort wasted. Your bloated disdain and resentment stem from a narcissistic delusional of grandeur, the odds of which are 100% rounded down."

She dares!

Fi's voice was cold as it always was. Ghirahim huffed and rolled his eyes. He stepped closer to her.

"That's rich coming from you. These humans have built countless monuments for you and your precious goddess. Memorials to a coward and her blade who is completely clueless to the truth."

Ghirahim smirked as she stiffened. He seemed to have struck a nerve. He was about to twist the knife when she spoke again. Her words were slow as if meticulously chosen.

"Are you suggesting that you and your master deserve praise instead?"

Ghirahim opened his mouth to respond, but stopped himself. She did not typically ask questions. Fi then advanced toward him. He hid a gasp as her aura suddenly struck him in the chest.

"You speak of cowardice and suggest inadequacy towards me--"

"But of course, it is only natural you deny it--"

"I had not finished. You think I have failed anyone, but from where I stand...where is your master? Where is he now? Where were you across the ages as he fought for your tribe's cause?"

The words caught in his throat as suddenly the heat left his body.

"Y-you don't know what you're talking about!"

Ghirahim snapped back.

"Oh? Don't I? My master is still here. And like you have previously pointed out, I am recognized across history...what happened to you?"

Fi's tone was sharp, and he could have sworn he felt them cut his cheek. He snarled and rallied.

Oh...she is right...I wonder how deeply she sees through you.

The darkness cackled. Ghirahim ignored it, favoring his retort.

"That doesn't matter. I'm here now! Just because your master remains does not mean he is not still the same dense idiot who can barely swing a blade!"

"Then what does it say about you seeing as you lost to him three times back in that era. All the things you threw at him failed 100% of the time. The things you fought for crumbled to dust in the end, just like the meager memory of your existence. The demons that remain do not even know your name."

Her words seemed to strike him physically. The demon stepped back with each blow.

Oh ho! What a spitfire! She speaks the truth! You really do have zero footing! Ha ha!

The shadows laughed. Its raucous voice boomed between his ears. He turned his head away from Fi as the fire hissed and snapped, now igniting against him in the shadow's wake.

You lost because you never truly stood a chance! I told you! Commanded you! But you spared him! Now, look where it got you!

"That's...not...true..."

Ghirahim whimpered, and the voices continued their pursuit. They insulted him from every angle. Hit every nerve. Wormed past decades of armor that was shattered in an instant by her wrathful words. He hadn't expected her to get so upset.

"The probability of that being false is 100%."

Another short sight...

The list of those was becoming so long, so haunting...His arms hugged across his upper body in a desperate attempt for comfort. Though, the shred of dignity he had stopped him from trembling. He could not meet her gaze. Fi was right...there was no way to spin this back in his favor. Ghirahim turned his back to her now.

"If that is all..."

"I have concluded my assessment."

Fi replied coldly. So it seems even she had finally had enough. The usually monotone, emotionless creature did know anger...and disgust.

"I suggest you refrain from offending her grace like that in the future. The likelihood of your survival in another assessment is low."

That won't be necessary, love. He will not need another...will you?

The darkness replied though Ghirahim could only hear it. He could have sworn on his life something dug its claws into his shoulder.

Fi hovered back to her place on the platform. Ghirahim glanced back at her one last before his grip on himself tightened. The shadows sank their claws deeper with another cackle. He lurched forward, attempting to pull free before he staggered, tripping over his own feet as he felt the claws tear away from his flesh. In his panic, magic surged through him, and he vanished into a teleport.

This port was a messy one. Everything whipped around him in a sickening blur of colors that twirled and spun in erratic motions. When he appeared, he was at least a few feet off the ground before crashing onto the bedroom floor. He pulled himself up with a groan. Swallowing the urge to puke, something heavy suddenly landed on top of him. With a roar, he tore the assailant off him, tossing it clear across the room only to discover it had just been his tattered cape.

He sighed and brought his hand to his face. Ghirahim quickly pulled his hand away when it felt wet. Looking down, that was not the only thing he noticed. Rushing over to the mirror, he gaped and then frowned at his reflection. So...that had happened in the stress of the moment.

Black cracks trailed up and down the length of his body, snaking up the left side of his face. Both arms were also black with dark purple hues. Sharp claws jutted out from his fingernails. He snatched a small towel from the stack and cleaned the blood off his face and hand. His eyes lingered on the dark stain. When had his shoulder started bleeding again? Had...it been him all along?

He took a deep breath. Now was not the time to unravel. Ghirahim splashed some water on his face and sighed. He dangled over the wash bowl before someone spoke.

"Oh, that seems inevitable at this point." Ghirahim's head shot up. His reflection matched his frown with a haughty grin.

"No, foot down time. I am not taking shit from you."

His reflection pouted and pretended to wipe a tear away.

"I'm hurt you think I have any to give. No, no, no, I'm just trying to warn you."

"About what?!" Ghirahim snapped back, leaning towards the mirror.

"We're swingin' off our hinges, love! Are you ready?"

The reflection sang, dancing about the mirror with a chuckle. Ghirahim gritted his teeth.

"Knock it off..." He warned,

"Make way for the psychotic break!"

"I said quiet!" Ghirahim yelled, pressing his face it the glass.

"It is a downward spiral of a spectacular fashion. What a swan dive!" The reflection teased, twirling his fingers. Ghirahim bared his teeth as his double finally copied his actions.

"You really shouldn't do that. You'll get wrinkles."

A roar bellowed amongst the sound of shattered porcelain and glass rang out in the bedroom. The broken remains of the looking glass scattered across the vanity, and a distant laugh soared away from Ghirahim's ears.

His claws dug into the wood of the dresser. Blood trickled down his forehead from the newly formed cut as his figure swayed back and forth. A weak laugh rose from the demon as he straightened up. Ghirahim shook his head.

Then, with a cry, he tossed everything off the vanity with one swoop.