Link woke up in a cold sweat, sitting bolt upright. The reason for this fear trickled away just as soon as he tried to grasp hold of it, and he rubbed his forehead wearily. The night had passed, and dawn was just past breaking. He thought about all the things he'd felt and seen recently, and he sighed deeply.

I'm probably just… stressing myself out. If I just go and check, I'll see...

He found himself sitting on the edge of the light tower staring at the green light for hours. But finally, as though moving automatically, Link stood and threw himself off, calling his Loftwing and making a straight line toward the opening.

I'm only going to visit Fi. He heard himself say in his head. I just need to visit the temple for awhile.

His Loftwing brought him all the way down to the courtyard at the base of the statue that had once been part of Skyloft. The area was bright, quiet, and empty. Link rubbed the cheek of his bird and walked past it, heading toward the great doors. The noise in his head had suddenly calmed, like a roar eased into soft purring.

He pushed open the double doors with a great grating creak, letting more light pour into the worn building. He stood there for a moment as silence returned, taking in the stone walls with its creeping vines, the sunshine streaming through the holes in the ceiling, until his eyes fell on what was directly ahead. The Master Sword still stood there in its pedestal, softly illuminated by the light on it. Link slowly stepped forward and ascended the steps one by one until he stood just at the top, his eyes softening as he looked down at the familiar blade, his gaze lingering there a long while. He hadn't come by here since he'd said goodbye, and knowing the proud blade still rested here alone stirred a twinge of pain. Very few people had come here, actually. He could tell that the space was quite undisturbed, but given that it was one of few buildings on the surface which had begun to be explored by some of the others, that seemed odd. He glanced around again, the space eerily silent. Whatever had drawn him here had gone silent as well, it seemed. He began to turn, as though ready to leave, but he halted, turning back again. This time, he looked directly at the doors behind the sword, doors that obscured the back of the temple from him, and the calm that came from his examination of the seemingly normal temple gave way to the prickling dread over his skin again. Hadn't the doors been opened last he was here?

His heart seized in a slow squeeze, that desire to step forward and open the doors rescinded by an equally strong urge to just turn and walk away. It was the same sense his dreams before the day of the Wing Ceremony had given him – something big was about to change.

The compulsions, the restlessness, the unnamed fear, the visions, the things he'd seen in that mock battle… all of it condensed into what Link suddenly knew he would see behind these doors. It was enough to make him want to shove it away, to ignore it, to run away from some other destiny that was trying to force itself upon him – hadn't he been through enough? But he couldn't turn away. He couldn't not know for sure.

Blood rushed to his ears as he reached out to the doors and grasped his fingers into the seam, his heart beating wildly. He pulled, and the doors slid apart.

The grating sound of the doors opening rang in Link's ears as his eyes fell on the prone shape of a man lying at the far side of the room. His limbs felt weighed down with dread as his mind screamed rejections at what he was seeing. No, no, no, surely not, not now-

He slowly took in the dark metal skin, the white hair, the broken red center, his mind registering a form that was unmistakable, but so surreal he could only stare as though he expected it to flicker out of existence any second.

There, flat on his back on the stone floor, lay Ghirahim.

It was a sight so strange, this proud, malevolent figure laying quiet and still before him in plain sight, an abrupt scene so wildly out of place.

Silence settled again, and Link hardly dared to breathe. He remained as still as a cornered rabbit, and Ghirahim seemed as a motionless corpse.

Link's first instinct was to prepare a defense. Despite Ghirahim's lifeless appearance, the danger alarms were in full gear in his head. But he couldn't move, the shock of simply setting eyes on him again at all had Link reeling for reasons he couldn't begin to give full thought to. The day prior, he'd practically seen his ghost back to life before him. Seeing him now as no copy or fabrication was too much.

A full minute passed and nothing stirred.

Ghirahim hadn't reacted to his appearance in the slightest. Though Link wasn't inclined to let his guard down, and once again became painfully aware of the lack of a good sword he had at his disposal - unless the Master Sword would somehow allow him to pull it again, which he highly doubted. All he had was the simple academy blade, and he'd seen how effective that had been yesterday.

Link finally began to step forward, cringing at the taps his boots made on the hard floor. He carefully made his way through the room, edging closer and closer. His heartbeat thrummed in his ears, readying him to leap away at the smallest sign of danger.

He could see the demon clearly now, his eyes closed and his body defying any movement. His chest was a mangled, shattered sight that transfixed Link. Where his silver diamond had so neatly presented itself was now broken into a raw red that mimicked blood, as though the front of Ghirahim's chest had been torn open and his core was visible now. The metal-like skin was cracked and damaged in a circular radius from the central break, though the rest of his skin remained unmarred.

Link stopped where he was. Surely the spirit wasn't dead, or he wouldn't be here – though where he'd come from Link didn't know. How could he possibly be alive - hadn't he seen the sword vanish? And why here? How had he made his way back to the temple, to the present- why had he stopped where he was? Link's eyes scanned the damage on the other. Perhaps he was dead. Maybe he had made it just far enough.

With his mind racing, Link's skin felt clammy with fear. He was only a couple feet away from this enemy, surrounded by uncertainty, and with a weapon unsuited to fighting this being - even though the demon seemed in no state to do so, the situation didn't appeal to the hero.

The continued silence added both calm and anxiety to the atmosphere. Link felt compelled forward, driven by a sudden curiosity and simply a need to do something, anything, to break this odd standoff. He eased himself the rest of the way to the side of the demon, then slowly crouched enough to reach his hand out as he scuffed his boots forward along the stone, fingertips tentative as they touched to the skin of Ghirahim's shoulder.

The metallic surface was hard to the touch, and Link remembered how the Master Sword had been reduced to little more than a clanging bat against this body. It was strange, being able to analyze his enemy at such a close proximity without it being surrounded by the stress of a battle in progress.

He trailed his fingers wonderingly across the unusual texture of the demon's arm, and he realized that he had yet to receive a response. He paused, trying to talk himself out his curiosities, but he couldn't help it; his fingers were drawn toward the damaged core and its vivid red.

His fingertips just barely brushed along it, and Link gasped at the sudden sensation of life, of heat, of power - and at the same time the chest below his hand abruptly heaved a ragged breath.

He jerked back, stumbling backwards to his feet to put some space between them. He quickly drew a plain dagger from his pouch, rather than reaching for the sword on his back. His eyes had jumped wide and a chill had jolted through him, but in seconds he was composed and at the ready. Ghirahim hadn't changed except for the slow, shuddering breaths he seemed to be able to just barely take in, the sound of it as though he were being throttled. Link waited for his heartbeat to continue to slow, letting the seconds pass until it was again clear Ghirahim seemed inclined to remain still.

He felt the hilt of the dagger in his hand and he lifted it, slowly casting his eyes down to the blade. He remembered his anger, the harsh fire that seethed in his core as Ghirahim had appeared again, and again, and again, so determined to take everything away from Link. Any rational caution, calm curiosity, and sense of pity for this damaged creature abruptly drained out of the hero as he gripped the small blade tightly. It obviously wasn't nearly as powerful as the Master Sword, but Ghirahim was all but exposing his very heart before Link, the vulnerable centerpiece baring its shattered self in its entirety. Even if it weren't permanent until he had a more powerful weapon, one solid stab would likely be all he needed to render the apparently alive demon all but dead.

He wanted to end this for good.

Link stepped forward, his eyes dark as he looked down at the broken body of his enemy. He carefully knelt, eyeing Ghirahim's face only a moment before focusing on the showing crimson of his inner body. The knife twirled in his hand, pointing its sharp tip down. He slowly brought his other hand to meet the one already wrapped around its hilt, and began to raise it above his head, his breath feeling hard and solid in his chest. He used his anger as a focal point, a centralized force to concentrate the power and aim of his hands. He clutched at it as his guiding reason, his motivation, his justification for such an outright act of violence.

"Are you… going to kill me… sky… child…?"

The deep voice, tinged with a robotic echo, forced itself with strained air from the lips of the demon, which slowly turned up as Link froze. He didn't look at his face. He didn't move at all. Hearing him speak again, real and truly as himself, struck Link more forcefully than he would have expected. It only shoved the reality of his being still alive that much more harshly at the hero.

"Such a dark action… for the bright spirit… that inhabits you…"

He laughed, soft and choking, and Link clenched, the blade slowly lowering only slightly.

"Go on and do it, then… so I don't waste my breath… on you."

Link looked at the demon's face then. His eyes were still closed, but his expression clenched slightly – perhaps in pain. The lingering traces of his smirk fell off his lips, and a few seconds later, his white eyes slowly opened to look at Link. He still didn't know what to say. He didn't know why he hesitated at all.

"This is no time… for cowardice… child… it's insulting," the demon ground out, his breath rattling emptily as he forced air into him.

Link tensed again, raising the blade up suddenly as if to slam it down right then. But he again halted, his eyebrows furrowing with uncertainty.

"Unless… you waver… in your convictions." Ghirahim's voice had a hint of his smug tone back, his hands crawling up to grip at his mutilated chest.

"…I have no choice," Link responded quietly, a bitter hint to his tone. His voice felt hoarse, like it didn't belong to him as he tried to voice his thoughts. "I can't just let you go. Not after I fought so hard to save this world from you." He lowered the blade and looked at Ghirahim fully in the eye. "Yes, you. Because Demise would have never been a battle for me without you."

Ghirahim coughed out a laugh that gained strength, which surprised Link for some reason, glaring with anger and confusion.

"Oh, sky child… you know… so little." He heaved in another empty breath, closing his eyes again.

"Then tell me. Tell me why I shouldn't kill you." Link demanded, his eyes hard and alight with blue fire.

"I'm hardly… the best choice… of a moral compass…" Ghirahim replied, even managing to sound a hint amused.

Link faltered, unsure how to proceed from here. His logic told him this is what he should do; he shouldn't spare this being any more mercy than he had been shown. But seeing even Ghirahim in such a state made it very hard to just ram a knife into him in cold blood. It didn't feel right.

"Where oh where has all that cold anger gone…" Ghirahim whispered, his fingertips scraping softly against the stone he laid on, not quite making fists.

"I'm not like you. I don't kill things on a whim." Link replied immediately, his eyes hardening for that brief moment until they dimmed again slightly. "I don't kill even because something deserves it…"

"Still such a soft boy…" Ghirahim sucked in another ragged breath. "Well… whilst you deliberate… I'll just remain here in my agony, shall I?"

Link threw a frown at the spirit. Even now, the hero noted, it seemed he worked to manipulate Link's emotions.

"I could… speed this little process along… by noting you couldn't bear to kill me… I can already tell your resolve is so weak." He again fixated his blank eyes on the boy, an accusing stare than made Link's skin crawl.

"So what do you expect me to do? Save your life after everything you did, only to probably have to fight you again?"

Ghirahim laughed, the sound slow and heaving. "You… save my life… pitiful…" He got his breath again. "I would rather you kill me."

Link made a small, irked noise, looking away and gripping the dagger in his hand. The air got thicker with a new kind of standoff for a long moment.

"How are you alive at all?" Link finally asked, looking back to the spirit. "I thought I saw your sword break."

Ghirahim smirked, closing his eyes. "Hmph. Demise was dying… so we were no longer bound, and I abandoned him. I had pre-arranged a spell… to take me back through the gate should you succeed in battle. But I couldn't go far after that, injured as I am… I made it here… and I've been waiting… ever since."

"I felt it." Link blurted. Ghirahim's eyes opened and stared him down, and he frowned. "I… I could sense that there was… something. Did you do that on purpose?"

Ghirahim only hummed up at the ceiling.

Link eyed the ever-cryptic demon, his gaze lingering on his chest. "…Are you dying?"

He inhaled in a deep hollow rattle. "No." One more inhale. "But I haven't the means… to heal myself… and self destruction is not in my nature."

Link's grip tightened on the dagger. So that left it up to him, then? His instinct told him that he had to do this, that Ghirahim was far too dangerous to be left alive. But his compassionate nature stayed his hand, along with something else… something he couldn't place, a feeling he didn't understand – the same feeling that stirred sadness in him at the sight of Demise's cruelty to the spirit, and fixated his attention on the black blade as they had fought. The same feeling that had existed long before that even; an inexplicable grip that made his heart lurch at the appearance of the demon, that rooted Link in place under the hands of his dramatics.

We're bound, you and I.

He exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "What can I do?"

He didn't realize how much he wanted to ask until the words tumbled out on their own, shoving past his conflict of doing the right thing and replacing it with this quite frankly irresponsible indulgence of his curiosity.

Ghirahim looked over at him, his expression darkly amused. "What's this…? Has the hero found his compassion at last?"

Link frowned, clenching his hands. "Stop playing around and just… tell me."

"Since you've drawn this out… by your adorable little internal conflict over ending me… there is one thing you can do…"

Link looked at him warily, uncertain where the demon could possibly be going, which Ghirahim seemed to enjoy for a few seconds before continuing.

"I have a proposition for you…"

The human boy didn't quite like the sound of that, his eyes narrowing. "…I'm listening."

Ghirahim abruptly began to sit up, and Link immediately pointed the knife at the demon's core. Ghirahim stopped, frowning at Link for a long moment until the boy slowly retracted the blade and allowed him to continue, getting himself fully sitting with one hand still grasping at his chest, the other holding his weight on the floor beside him. He took a moment to recover from this exertion before lifting his head to fixate on Link again.

"You… have lost your sword."

Link's eyebrows quirked with a frown, trying to decipher what Ghirahim was getting at.

"And I… have lost my master." He finished, his lips turning up with a slow smirk.

It took a long moment, but Link's eyes suddenly filled with dread alongside understanding. "No. No. That's… that's ridiculous."

Ghirahim grimaced as he shifted further forward, holding himself on one knee as though determined to escape the grip of death by simply walking away from it, his voice gaining some strength. "Yes, it is."

"You're suggesting I take you as my... sword? I don't understand what that will do."

"Let me elucidate this as simply as possible… if you draw my sword for me and are recognized as my master… I can take refuge inside, and you will repair it… using the red flame at the volcano summit. I will heal, and I will have a new master… which I require. And you… will again wield a powerful sword, one you should be honored to possess. That is what I am suggesting."

Link thought for a moment, trying to wrap his head around wielding Ghirahim's black blade – how could he possibly explain this to Zelda? How could he possibly live with whatever this would mean for him?

"What happens if I don't take your… offer?"

"Then spare me your oh-so tragic uncertainty and put a knife in my chest."

Link took a breath. "And… what happens if I do?"

The demon eyed him steadily. "As you may recall, I am… intensely loyal. And… I suppose… we will see where that red thread leads us." Before Link could react to that, Ghirahim abruptly tensed, grimacing and heaving a ragged breath. "I don't have the energy… to work out the finer details with you. So find it in you to kill me with some dignity, or take up my sword."

Link shook his head a few times, just rejecting the situation in general, his hesitancy in having to make such a choice.

"Damn it, child!"

Link did not expect the sudden outburst, and less so the way the demon suddenly lunged his weight forward, pining Link down with his chest overtop the boys' and his hand pressing against his collarbone, the other hand stopping Link from reacting with the dagger - not that it would do much without managing to get in between their torsos. The human could only stare up in shock at the demon who glared down at him with contempt in his white eyes, his teeth gritted in pain but forcibly resisting it, his rough voice filled with seething venom.

"Do not treat me like a criminal begging for release from death row while you so easily try to judge me in a way to not offend your own morality... I have neither the patience nor the humility to allow you such a luxury of deliberating your sensibilities. Your pretty goddess might have painted the world so black and white in a roadmap for you, but you seem to have neglected being taught that your enemies she pitted you against have complex agendas of their own. You offend my existence as a living thing and my nature as a sword by putting both my life and my offer into something you can take the time to make a decision in based merely on how you feel about it."

He grabbed Link's free hand and placed the palm firmly against the ruins of his chest, and Link gasped at the electric energy that abruptly coursed through him in a sudden pulse again before it dimmed, reflecting the life, but also damaged nature of the being.

"Act, Link. Drive in the dagger or summon my blade."

He let go of Link's other wrist and brought the tip of the dagger to his chest.

"This is not about making a choice."

Link's head was reeling as he tried to process it all, tried to shove past the guilt – because that's what Ghirahim was trying to say, that despite his actions, his pride in his being demanded Link treat him with the respect of not putting his life in his hands, especially basing it on his own emotions. This spirit sought to preserve his dignity whilst also ending his suffering in the only ways he knew how, both of which apparently required Link's cooperation. This was how Link tried to understand it, at least.

Sense told him this was risky. But a compulsion beyond what mere consideration of his options could have brought on him moved his hand instead.

He dropped the knife, gently pressing in with his other palm, and the demon's chest began to glow.

He didn't know if it was a question of morality anymore, he didn't know what the correct factors to consider were. He didn't know what this so-called fate that bound them meant, or what it would bring. But he knew he couldn't kill him. He couldn't bury him and quietly return to that restless life amongst the people he stood not quite belonging to now. He had to understand - for his own sake. Because for all the anger, and hate, and fear this demon had wrought, Link now understood the sensation he'd had at first setting eyes on him in this room, a feeling so out of place it hadn't a name amid the rational emotions that clamored for his attention… relief.

Ghirahim pulled back to his knees as the hilt of his sword burst from his chest, and Link sat up quickly and braced himself to pull it from its sheath in the body of the spirit. He drew it slowly and steadily, unlike the horrible ripping Demise had done, carefully rising to his feet as he did so. The great black blade finally freed itself, Link having to step back to clear it completely. The tip threatened to bang to the floor without its holding place to keep it aloft, but Link caught it just in time, barely clutching the gigantic sword with both hands.

An abrupt dark energy coursed through the metal Link was gripping and he gasped in surprise, almost dropping the blade, but it seemed almost affixed to his hands. He automatically rebelled against the invisible feeling that seemed to be entering at his palms, traveling along his arms and toward his core.

The blade was bathed in a blinding red glow now, and Link shut his eyes, trying to make sense of the barrage of sensations.

"Link… do you claim me as your sword?"

Ghirahim's voice was low, but firm. The blade's aura had Link second-guessing this course of action deeply, but no rejection came from his lips as he carefully reopened his eyes. With Fi, he'd felt a vague thrumming the moment he took up her sword. But this… this was an entity spreading inside him, something vast and alive and foreign that he couldn't grasp. But he couldn't back out now. There was something he needed, some answer or incomplete part of him that drew him to this, and he had to know. He slowly nodded, feeling the shift in himself as the motion conveyed a true mental acceptance. The internal presence abruptly swelled, making Link clench, but then it abated. In the moment before Ghirahim was swathed in the same red light as the blade, Link could have sword he saw him smirk.

"Recognition complete. You are my master… Master Link."

When the light faded, Ghirahim had disappeared into the blade, and as fast as it had happened, everything was still.

A few moments later, Link sunk to his knees with a groan, holding his head with his hand. The blade lowered to the ground, and Link sat there for a long while, breathing, trying to regather himself and figure out what had just happened.

He finally opened his eyes and regarded the weapon he still held. It was chilling, seeing it so close to him, his mind jumping back to that unearthly dimension where he'd clashed with it, and felt its bite firsthand. It was surreal, seeing the hilt in his own hand.

It was also incredibly terrifying as the weight of what he'd just done sunk into him.

The dark energy that he'd felt when first holding the blade was still there, albeit more subtle, lurking beneath his skin. He stared at the malevolent blade in shock, unbelieving that he had just agreed to save Ghirahim's life – and be his master? He turned his head to see the Master Sword past the doorway, recalling the feeling of Fi's constant presence when he'd been her master, and abruptly felt sick to his stomach. He rebelled against the presence in his mind, recoiling from any contact with it and locking it away.

What was he supposed to do about this now? He idly considered options to get around his choice, but he knew there was nothing else for it.

He was just going to have to face his decision and go through with his promise to the end, whatever it meant.


A/N: We're getting closer to the sections already posted on tumblr... I will hopefully have the next few parts written soon, and then new readers will get a whole flood of chapters before I continue having to write the following parts. Reviews...?