The Weeping Man

by eolianstar

Zelda: Ocarina of Time © Nintendo

Note: Hi everyone! I know it's been a long while since I updated this story. It's now three part... and I also made big revisions to the first chapter, so please read it again if you've already done so. Sorry for the trouble! The next part is actually already done :) It'll be up within the week!

Huic ergo parce, Deus

- o -

After she emerged from the Temple, eyes darkened and now less of a child than when she first entered, the ceremony she received was plain and too solemn. Her father, without any gleam of pride or even recognition in his eyes, recited the vows she had to repeat. The old wise woman spoke the deep, ancient magic of the Sheikah. There was no one left alive who remembered how old she was, but for as long as anyone could remember, this had been her sacred task.

She placed her wrinkled hands over Impa's face, her thumbs pressed firmly against her closed eyes. Impa could feel how the woman's flesh seemed liquid, how the skin seemed to flow over the bony fingers effortlessly. Then there was a great, shuddering pain as the woman dragged her thumbs down, moving in a crescent from the tear ducts, rounding the girl's cheekbones until she reached the outer corner of her eyes.

As she stepped back into the light of the cemetery, the shadows speaking to her more fervently than they ever had before, there were whitish marks like sharp wings stretched out beneath her eyes: the mark of her tribe. She was a warrior of the Sheikah, a slave and a knight of the Royal family.

- o -

The castle was in full view a few hours later, and they could already see the banners rippling in the wind. Tents formed a barricade around the outer castle walls, boldly colored in gleaming whites and navy blues. Scarlet Hylian eagles with the golden triforce were patterned on every crest and flag.

Seeing the Hylian camp allowed Impa the luxury of relief for the time being. They had rested more than anticipated, but Sheik's health had stabilized and she felt a little less congested. They were crouching hidden and silent in the shadow of the trees beyond, watching and planning their next course of action.

"They have not yet met in battle," Impa whispered to her companion. "But the Enemy must be near. We must destroy the Weapon before they have the chance to use it against us."

Sheik stirred slightly behind her, though he moved so quietly she chose not to take note of it. She kept her scarf close to her nose and felt the slight pang of regret deepen the longer she looked on. For the thousandth time, she wished that she had been chosen to fight among the other Sheikah warriors, with her brother and sister. It was a privilege to be hand-chosen and sent on a task as crucial as theirs, but there was a special honor in being able to fight in battle. She wondered if her siblings were there even now, walking among the Hylians' tents, faithfully serving and waiting to cross blades with the enemy.

But perhaps it was better this way, she tried to tell herself as she muffled a cough behind her scarf. She would not be as much a hindrance as she would be on the battlefield, as sick as she was, and with Sheik beside her, they were invisible. Surely, they would carry out their mission without fail.

At the thought, she turned slightly, guiltily remembering her own secret task.

Then, as if he had known that she was thinking of him, Sheik beckoned quietly to her.

"Impa." Startled, she glanced back at him. He was now standing, completely turned away from her. His voice was strange.

"What is it?"

He didn't turn to face her, but rather lifted a hand to point above them, into the trees.

Very, very slowly, she got to her feet.

Just a couple yards away from Sheik's pointing index finger, a pair of feet dangled. Then as she increased the field of her focus with widening eyes, she saw more feet, swaying lifelessly in among the foliage.

They seem so light, Impa thought numbly. She saw the sleepy looks on their expressions, which seemed right because no Sheikah truly fears death. They were her kith clearly, with the splashes of white spreading out from beneath their staring scarlet eyes. She even recognized her brother among them, his handsome features sad and noble. Long hair flowed gently in the wind, wrapping his body like a silvery white shroud. His face was marred by a single stripe of blood running straight down the middle of his face, and the others had the same. Their killers' signatures.

The longer they stared at the hanging warriors, the more Impa felt emptied of her courage. She had only been ten years old when he had completed his coming-of-age ceremony and left the village. Impa had always thought of him as someone so strong and reliable. She remembered how all the girls of Kakariko idolized him and how he pat her gently on the head, how he smiled reassuringly and called her baby sister without any condescension.

Something shining fell to the ground in front of her, and she tore her gaze away from the gruesome sight to see what it had been. She just barely managed to catch a glimpse of another tear as it fell from under Sheik's mask, but it vanished immediately, swallowed up by the ground.

Impa touched his shoulder lightly as she herself fought tears, feeling ashamed by them.

"Let's go."

- o -

Impa traced the wood paneling along the wall, vaguely concentrating, leaking magic through her fingertips. The color changed slightly, darkening under her touch as if a flame had drawn too close to it. Suddenly, a dark scarlet shape blossomed out on the wood, spreading out, gaining other colors. Haughtily she threw a glance over her shoulder and scowled.

"I don't need you to show off to me," she said, but not all too angrily. The wall returned to normal instantly. Sheik watched her guiltily from on top of his bed, peering over the book he had been supposedly reading. His mask loomed over it, pale in the dark room. Truthfully, it still scared her sometimes.

"I won't be taking the test next year," the boy said quietly, as if he had been pondering it the whole time they were sitting together. She was astonished.

"What?"

"The test in the Shadow Temple."

"Why?" It made her anxious. Even if they were not permitted to take the test together, the fact that she would be the only one taking it at all made her feel very lonely.

"I…" She knew he was trying to rapidly think up some sort of a story, but he eventually settled for the truth. That seemed right. "Your father won't let me."

"What?" Impa was a little angry at this. "Why not?"

"I'm not a part of your tribe."

"But that's not fair!" Impa sat up straight, glaring at him as if it were his fault. "You've been taught our ways, haven't you? You've been training with us, haven't you?"

"Yes, well…" he put down the book and lay down, and she suspected it was so he didn't have to look directly at her. "There are secrets that have been carried down from you people that I have no right to know."

She was upset, but kept her face carefully smooth and maintained as casual a silence as she could. He knew her too well to be fooled though.

"Do you…" he hesitated. "Do you want to hear of the secrets of my people?"

Although she recognized this immediately as an attempt to mollify her, her curiosity ultimately triumphed.

"But you said…"

"It doesn't matter… anymore. At least someone else should know these things."

"Tell me," she said, and drew closer to the bed, folding her arms on top of it. Her hand was just inches away from his head. There was a short pause, and then he began to speak without even sitting up.

"All Sheikah know the story of the golden goddesses, how the world was created, that they left behind an inheritance, filling the world with Light. But my people tell a story of what came before even then."

Impa opened her mouth to say something, but then immediately closed it, realizing she did not want to give him any sort of excuse as to stop telling his tale.

"Before Light, there was Darkness, and in the beginning, there was nothing but Darkness, and it was there even before Light was there. Although light conquers shadow, there is something older, more ancient and permanent about Darkness. So when Light came in, it was bound to the Dark, like a twin or a reflection, never to be separated from it."

The words felt like raindrops falling into a deep, dark pool, stirring her with such ease that it made her think she was always meant to feel this way. As he continued to tell the tale, she became more aware of the old magic there. It was deep within her and seemed to creak open like it had been unlocked, though she was not quite sure what it was.

She was thinking on it, feeling it, prodding it long after he had stopped talking.

- o -

She sat with the lens in her hand, revolving it between her fingers and thumb absentmindedly. Then, raising it to her eye, she peered through it and Saw.

- o -

Somehow, thought Impa as she sliced through the woman's throat without remorse, every time she killed someone, the lingering image of the corpses among the trees touched upon her mind like an unexpected aftertaste. The woman coughed, gurgling blood as she fell and died. Her face stared up at the sky, the two crimson marks of the Enemy camouflaged by the spatters on her cheeks.

Impa flicked her blade, littering thick flecks onto the forest floor. By now, the grief had subsided into anger, but careful to control her emotions as her training had taught her, she only allowed it to show through the uncharacteristic sharpness of her movements.

Sheik seemed to recognize this, because he was even more quiet than usual. There were three bodies on the ground around them now, sprawled in morbidly twisted positions.

Further off in the wood, they could hear the sounds of fighting. Moving towards the direction of the noise, the soon came in time to find two other Sheikah warriors fighting against three of the Enemy.

Now outnumbered and overpowered, their opponents were quickly slain and crumpled to the forest floor. As Impa glanced at one of the newcomers, she recognized the mark of the Kakariko Sheikah before she recognized the face. It took her a little longer to do the latter, but when she did, there was a pang of remorse, rather than a jolt of excitement. She had not expected to meet her siblings so soon, not like this.

"Impa!" The woman clasped her by the shoulders and looked her full on, taking in the sight of her, of the marks that proved her coming-of-age. Aiza was much prettier than her - her skin lighter, her hair a more pale gold than Impa's ivory. Her high cheekbones seemed to display the white wings beneath her eyes more proudly, and her expression was pristinely impassive and yet pleased at the same time.

"Aiza," Impa said, her voice stuffy with sickness and with held-back emotion. "Emeth is dead."

Apparently, her older sister was also better at keeping a level face, because no sign of surprise or sadness came upon her at the news of their brother. Instead, Aiza stared so deeply into Impa's eyes that she might have seen the image of Emeth reflected there, that dignified young man hanging under the trees, his face slashed open and yet lovely.

"We were afraid of this," Aiza replied, but Impa knew that she was deeply moved by the confirmation. "His group was supposed to come back with information yesterday night. Are you all right, Impa?"

Wanting desperately to be comforted, but resolutely refusing to show any weakness, Impa swallowed heavily and gave a faint nod.

"I'm fine." To distract herself, she glanced over at her sister's companion, a very skinny man with a navy blue diamond on his left cheek. At the same time, Aiza seemed to observe Sheik carefully.

"Where are you two going?" she asked, not bothering to question the identity or nature of her younger sister's masked associate.

"There is something we must do. Is the enemy's camp close to here?"

"We have been spying on it for days." Aiza gestured behind her, towards the south. "They are arrogant, and keep everything in view, as if to taunt us. There is a large box that they carry by two poles, and they always keep it on display. Sometimes we see them bowing down to it, treating it as if it were a throne to seat a god. Their leader is a man that they now call a king."

Sheik stiffened, but it was a movement so subtle only Impa could catch it from the corner of her eye. She herself found her fist tightening.

"Thank you," Impa said to her sister as she replaced her scarf to cover her face. "We will be going then. Farewell." Without another word, the pair dashed off into the wood, to the Enemy.

- o -

When the messenger of the Royal Family arrived in Kakariko village to deliver the news of war and an appeal for the Sheikah's age-old loyalty to the crown, it had only been a week since Impa had received her marks. She had been in Sheik's company at that moment; they were practicing their illusory charms in the yard among the cuccos.

The man who had come from the city was an arrogant young soldier who evidently felt that he was entitled to more than just relaying news. As he galloped into the village on his garishly white horse, Sheik had clutched his chest and Impa did not fail to notice.

"Does it hurt?"

"Not yet."

The Hylian messenger seemed extremely uncomfortable being in the village, unaccustomed to the Sheikah and their ways. There was a perpetual scowl planted on the man's face, as if he strongly disapproved or mistrusted the darker-skinned people here, for all their strange rituals and traditions.

When later he revealed that the enemy were the Enemy, Impa was able to forgive the foreigner only partly for his rude behavior. After all, it was now Sheikah men and women they were to meet in war, even if they had turned away from the most sacred ways. She imagined them, twisted and evil, marching towards Hyrule Castle, to the Temple of Time, to claim the beacon and ancient power of the goddesses with their illegitimate magic, the very same power they had once sworn to protect.

The village elder then proceeded to divide the tasks of all the people. Though perhaps not all were fully fledged Sheikah warriors, all had been trained and would be expected to serve in this time of need. Impa realized that her journey to Hyrule Castle would come much sooner than she had expected. But she was more concerned, at the moment however, for Sheik, who had not stopped clutching his chest. She sensed a wild kind of fear rising from within him.

This heightened when her father surprised her by pulling Sheik aside for a private word. They talked for so long that Impa grew impatient and left to go home on her own.

Her father returned much later, when she was listening to a Gossip stone to kill the time. She raised her head and watched as he unclasped his cloak and hung it by the door. He did nothing to disguise his weariness, and she could see the darkness under his eyes.

He sat down and rubbed his face with both hands, and very curious, Impa came and sat next to him, crossing her arms. She had expected him to say something when she did, but in her impatience, she found she could not wait very long for him to initiate the conversation.

"Father, am I leaving tomorrow?"

He observed her then, and she noticed the lines in his face for the first time.

"Yes."

She said nothing to this, as if waiting for something else. When he kept his silence, she heaved herself back onto her feet and turned to go to her room to pack her things.

"Sit down, Impa," he ordered, and as if he had forced himself to his usually proper composure, he spoke with his stern instructor's voice. She glanced at him curiously and obeyed, re-crossing her arms as she sat.

"Our enemy is using powerful, ancient magic and has created a weapon. You will have a very special mission to destroy it, and so you will not be riding to battle with us."

She kept her expression consistent and refused to let the surprise and apprehension show on her face.

"What must I do?"

- o -

The princess sat on the topmost rung of the stepladder, leaning against the bookshelf so as not to lose her balance. She placed the lantern on the shelf, rested her chin in her palm and peeled open the book to read.

Something her caretaker had told her about the great Civil War had intrigued her. Although she was a pure Hylian by blood, with her golden hair and truly blue eyes, she had a premonition that she had a connection to the shadow people that was more than just her affiliation with Impa. As she streaked a finger down the pages, searching the text, she finally rested on a header that remarked upon the Great Separation of the Sheikah. Following the words with her finger, she read at a whisper.

"The Interlopers comprised of an alliance between different clans, each boasting powerful dark magic. Opposing their loyal brethren and betraying the ways of the Sheikah, they plotted to claim the Sacred Realm and the divine Triforce. There are many dark rumors surrounding the Interlopers, particularly in the early days after the Great Division when great fear of shadow magic arrested all of Hyrule. Some of the more sinister reports indicate that the sorcerers were so deeply involved in their art that they even subjected their own children to their dabbling, leading to gross biological mutilations that often proved lethal. However, any secrets of the ancient art had been long lost after the Hyrulean Civil War, and have since been left forbidden and unpracticed. Indeed, even the illusory magic of the Sheikah tribe is presently on the verge of extinction, with very few living survivors left to pass on its teachings."

The princess did not understand anything about shadows and darkness, but in the recesses of her mind, an image prodded at her. She attempted to physically imagine what it was. There was another plane of existence, a world in between, a reality between light and shadow, perhaps? Oh… it was something too abstract. Reaching out to it felt nostalgic. It was so familiar, but something forgotten, or perhaps something not yet encountered?

She shut the tome with a shudder, and slipped it back on the shelf. Perhaps it was something to be considered in a different lifetime, but not now.

- o -

The Box looked like it was made of a glassy black stone. It was rectangular and large enough to fit a couple crouching bodies side by side. There were very strange designs all along its faces, straight, parallel lines that showed no curves, but bent at ninety-degree angles. The cover of the box was stranger still, and looked as if four curled horns drew up from the very top of it.

It was heavily guarded, and even from where the two of them sat in the trees, they could see what Aiza had been talking about. Twice a day at twilight, the Enemy gathered before the box and bowed down, their chanting and muttering audible even from the distance. Their king was a prominent man. His skin was very dark and his head was bald, his heavily-lidded eyes painted with black, the tear-shaped Sheikah marks long and crimson on his face. He was powerful, with magic as intimidating as his appearance.

"Will you be able to cloak us with your magic?" Impa asked Sheik hopefully while eying the Enemy's leader as he sauntered around the Box, beckoning his people to wail louder. Her voice dry as she held her breath to prevent a coughing fit.

Sheik pondered this, watching as the warriors cried out and bowed down in waves.

"I am unsure. Many of them most likely have the ability to See."

Impa had suspected this, but she had hoped that they might have strayed too far from the divine ways of the Sheikah to still harbor that discipline. For all she had been told, the Enemy were closer to monsters than Sheikah.

"We shall have to try. If we move fast enough, we may be able to destroy the Weapon before they see us."

The last word had barely left her lips when Sheik sharply inhaled and clutched at his chest. He swayed on his branch so precariously that she snatched the folds of his cloak at his neck. With his free hand, he grasped her hand with such ferocity and speed that she almost gasped in surprise.

"What-"

"Impa," he spoke with great effort. His usually calm voice was strained to the point of breaking. "Do you remember what I told you?"

"What?" Impa repeated, focusing all her efforts towards not crying out against his crushing grip.

"Long ago, of the secret knowledge of my people, of Light and Darkness…" His words were barely discernable and incoherent, but she knew exactly what he was talking about. She could never forget.

"Yes, Sheik." The memory strangely calmed her. "Yes, I remember."

His fingers slackened, and Impa knew that she would find a bruise on her hand within the next few hours. He was breathing heavily again, his hand digging into the spot over his heart. Why, now, after so many years, was his childhood sickness returning? Was it the stress of the war?

"We'll have to try to get to it tonight," Impa said, her own heart sinking with the realization. "After sundown, we will try to destroy it."

- o -

The princess was very good at shadow magic, to Impa's wonder and pleasure. The way she applied the glamour spell to herself was so elegant, so royal.

The stranger now stood in front of her, halfway in shadow, face shielded by a curtain of gold hair, scarlet irises masterfully hiding the native deep blue behind them. The new posture and countenance was sterner, the muscles beneath the Sheikah armor firm, with just the touch of masculinity in their leanness. When the stranger spoke, it carried all the authority and gentleness of the original person, and yet maintained the warm tenor tones of a young man.

Impa had told her protégé everything of the Sheikah, even the old secrets passed down through her tribe, the ancient stories that only those who have braved the dangers of the Shadow Temple were privy to knowing- of the Sheikah ways of life, of their mantra and most sacred obligation.

But when she attempted to relay the story of the Darkness, the most ancient tale by far, she could not, as if a spell bound her, forced her to keep it hidden from all those outside of the blood.

"We will be equals now, Impa," the young princess (or, perhaps, the young warrior) declared, and it was so strange. "I am a survivor of the Sheikah."

"What shall you be called, my brother?" The older woman asked, a slight smile playing on her dark lips as she crossed her arms and regarded the young man with renewed appraisal. Then she was taken aback when she heard his name.

It was like the sound of her people's name, but incomplete, not whole. For a brief moment, the kind princess beneath the stern warrior flickered as she mistook Impa's surprise as distaste and hastily apologized.

"I'm sorry Impa, that was insensitive of me. I just thought… well… never mind. Is there a different name I shall use?"

The princess had not forgotten, after all, the stories her Royal nursemaid once told her, though it had been years since then, since that last time she had spoken his name too. Impa could feel a rush of gratitude, and she sank into a deep bow.

"A splendid choice. I am very pleased."

- o -

The night that Impa entered the Shadow Temple, Sheik had been waiting in the cemetery like all the other villagers. Each of them held a lantern in a hand, offering prayers on behalf of their child, for protection and blessings.

It was after midnight when they began to play the drums. They said it was to appease the spirits of the dead, to mimic the sound of a heart that had ceased its beating.

It made him feel sick. He wanted to scream, to run, to hide in the shadows where he belonged. He managed to slip away, cloaking himself in the night, in his own art, running as he had done for his whole life.

He was so sorry. He wanted so much to throw off his mask, to dash it under his feet, to find freedom at last.

But his chains were within, constricted him, and like a living thing it beat with the same rhythm of his own heart, like the rhythm of the drums. When he touched the spot, other memories flashed across his thoughts. The one-time touch of a father, the darkness and the excruciating pain. The seed had been planted, festering and growing. But he was the expert warden. He had done very well for all these years.

Sheik found himself in the doorway of his own house, that temporary shell of a home that had still felt more like a home than anywhere else.

And yet, the memories here plagued him more than the ones from before his rebirth and acceptance into this village. Feelings of happiness and of love, when tainted by incompleteness and guilt, were worse than the feelings of hopelessness and hatred.

But she had been satisfied with even the very little he could offer. With a bitter smile under the mask, he thought of how, in truth, she knew nothing about him. And yet somehow she had known him. The hours and the summer days they had spent together, even sometimes in extended silences, had been the most complete. Even with the knowledge of what was to come, with what he was carrying, he had allowed himself that one pleasure.

But he had not dared to go further. Because once they had the chance to hate and love, to really know each other, it would be too late.

That was his greatest regret.

- o -