Author's Note: This was a hard chapter to write. It came in bits and pieces. And also, I'm introducing a new concept, which I think I'll incorperate more of in the rewrite. And make no mistake, when I'm done licking my wounds from this story, I will rewrite it. My themes aren't as strong as I'd like them to be. Also, this chapter will be much more important in the future. But I swear, in the next chapter, I'll get right back on track with Dark Link and all his people.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gannon, Shadow Link, Longshots, Re-Deads, Hyrule Castle Town or the Water Temple. I do own Colm and the Potion.

Swirling darkness pierced with streaks of violet speckles, shimmering and glinting without light to reflect it. When held to the light, the glow did not pass through it, and it remained black and opaque in shadow.

Gannon furrowed his brows and continued to stare at the small vial the potions lady had given him. He had had it for weeks now, the actual time lost upon him. In truth, the plan that had begun to blossom in his mind the day he saw the dark man flee the potion shop had withered on the stalk.

He kept the potion close at hand, waiting for the genius to strike again. In the meantime, he would hear of his followers being cut down and killed by…

Him.

The child he had seen in the night seven years ago as he pursued the Princess from Hyrule Market Town. The boy that had opened to him the Sacred Realm, and had appeared to perish as he did so. The man the people called "Link."

Gannon fingered the vial. He wasn't sure what to make of this man. He had been missing for seven years, presumed dead by all, although there was little time to mourn the dead now that the King of Thieves had come to power.

Still…

This boy was causing far more trouble than could be expected. Gannon rose.

He was alone in the throne room of the once proud Hyrule Castle. Pillars lay broken on the floor, shattered from his experiments in his own power. He flexed his left hand-the one bearing the symbol of the Triforce. He placed two fingers into his mouth and released a high-pitched whistle.

A peculiar being entered. He was of medium size, with disproportionately lengthy arms and legs. His skin sagged about him, several sizes too large for his skeleton. Despite his awkward body, he made a surprisingly graceful bow. "My Lord?"

Gannon held the vial towards his servant. "I want you to find the boy, Link. Copy his shadow and bring it to me."

The servant carefully took the vial, making sure not to touch his master in the process. Then, with more flourishing bows, the being exited again, leaving the Master of Hyrule once more alone with his thoughts.

Colm scuttled through the former Hyrule Castle Town. He nervously eyed the Re-Dead that prowled the streets. They stared listlessly back, uninterested in his life force. Too drained already. Too bitter. Not sweet, not like…

His.

He moved on, trying to pass through as quickly as possible. The sky was already dark, and for this he was thankful. Too often the sun would burn his pasty skin, and he would spend days, weeks even, wincing in his sunburns.

But despite the safety of the setting sun, the night afforded its own difficulties. For one, the servant lacked the ability to see in darkness. For another, specific shadows proved a difficult target in the night. The vial in his pouch bounced lightly against his hip, a constant reminder of the task at hand.

Suddenly, there was a screech, a cry of triumph from a re-dead, having spied a meal. Each of Colm's organs raced to his feet, as he ground to a halt along his path, unable to move. The Re-Dead's spell had been cast.

But the re-dead didn't move toward him. The zombie instead lurched in past him in pursuit of another victim. Colm strained his eyes, hunting for the object of its attentions.

It was Him.

Unmistakable. Unbelievable. But there. The boy, the man, in green. The rising Hero. Colm's own target. Colm began to struggle against the paralysis, an easy task now that his fear was drowning in an onslaught of adrenaline.

Link couldn't move. His exhausted muscles hadn't the strength to resist the zombie climbing onto his back. He squirted out quick, gasping breaths of air. "Oh, Din-" Whatever prayer he was beginning was ended by a cold, piercing pain. Link struggled weakly, a feat becoming more difficult as his energy was drained away.

"Hold him still! Don't let go!"

From the corner of his eye, Link could see a small black figure scuttle across the cobblestone street. It came to a stop at his feet, and crouched there. It was hissing with anticipation as it drew something out of the folds that enveloped it. "Hold him, just a little longer. Just a little bit…"

Nothing quite brings out the zest for life in a person like the thought of their impending death.

A blow to the jaw sent Colm flying. The vial slipped from his fingers as he was thrown back, and to his horrified ears, came the faint but audible sound of glass shattering.

He hit the street hard, choking on the pain exploding from his spine. He could hear the slapping of boots fleeing, running away from him. He lifted his head slightly, and watched him run. He dropped his head, regretting more his own failure than the sharp contact it made with the stone.

He could hear the pitiful moans of the re-dead, too slow to give chase to Him. Colm considered briefly his own edibility. Let them come. He decided. It could be no worse than what he'll do to me.

He lay there for a short age, before his self-pitying revelry was broken.

"You may be content to lay there for the rest of your miserable life, but I have more important things to do."

Colm opened his eyes. Sitting up, he stared at the man before him.

It was Him. Or at least… Colm blinked a few times. No, it wasn't Him. But it was him. Fascinating. Colm marveled at the likeness. The tunic, the boots, the gloves, the sword, the hair, the hat… Like a mold, a perfect, flawless copy in black. Except for the eyes. The eyes were red. The servant grinned. A little lady up there must favor me. He figured. He stood up and dusted himself off.

The shadow-man was walking away. Colm had to jog to catch up, but when he reached him, he had no difficulty keeping up with the man's powerful stride. "So, where are you-"

"I have buisiness to attend to." The man cut Colm short, as he held little to no regard for him.

Colm's brows furrowed. "Like what?"

"It's none of your concern."

Colm grabbed the shadow's arm. "I believe it is."

Colm scarcely had time to breathe before he was once again plastered across the street. The shadow continued walking. Colm grabbed his mouth, shocked to find blood trickling down from his nose. "W-wait." Colm's voice was muffled. "Wait, wait, wait! Please." The shadow kept walking. "I must, I have to take you to my master!" the servant pleaded, rising and stumbling after him.

The shadow stopped, and turned to face him. "Gannon?" he questioned.

"Y-yes. Gannon. My master. Please. I just need to-"

"Take me to him."

"What? Oh, oh yes. Yessir. Thank you, thank you thank you thank-"

"Shut up."

"Yessir."

The two silently walked down the street, one indifferent to the other, and the other vainly searching for his lost dignity. Here he was, a high servant to Lord Gannon, King of this land, and there was this man, this shadow, who would not be here but for him, who treated him as inferior. And I, Colm thought, I groveled. I allowed him to treat me as such. He looked at the product of his task. He didn't look long. Now was not the time, and his Lord did not like to wait for too long.

"So this is the boy who has caused such a stir." Gannon remarked, as he inspected the shadow man.

Colm stood in the corner of the room, shifting. His lord and the boy had been staring at each other since he had brought him. The broken silence nearly caused him to hyperventilate as the tension mounted.

"Or should I say, something much like him." Gannon smiled.

"You shouldn't." the shadow replied. "I am he."

"Of course." Gannon continued to smile.

The shadow blinked. "What do you mean?" he asked suspiciously.

Gannon raised his hands in mock peacemaking. "Essentially, you are him. But then again, you're not quite Him. A part of Him, I suppose. Detached."

"I don't understand."

Gannon dropped his hands, through with the charade. "You, boy, are a Shadow. A copy. The sin removed from the sinner. You are His hate, His lust, His fear, His every mean thought, but you are not Him. You are merely a manifestation of a possibility."

The shadow shifted, uncomfortable, battling within his mind the glaring truth of Gannon's words. His hand wavered toward his sword. "What possibility?"

Gannon leaned on the arm of his chair. He was not so confident as to sit, but had relaxed in the presence of such a confused and naïve foe. "Merely what He might have been, had He not gone on his useless little quest, or had he not slept for seven years. Evil, I suppose, although I'm loathe to call it that. It's so trite."

"How do you know I slept for so long?"

"I have my resources. But you shouldn't worry. Now he'll never have the chance to be what you are."

"Liar."

The shadow unsheathed his sword and leapt at the King of Gerudos. Gannon's sword flashed out, deftly blocking the blade. "Look, boy." He spat. "Does the Master Sword look different to you?"

The shadow stared mutely at his own blade. Instead of the shine of steel he was accustomed to, his eyes met with the faintly translucent blackness that had been wrought into a sword.

"It's a copy too."

The shadow gritted his teeth. The fight resumed. Slash. Block. Parry. Dodge. Thrust. Leap. Twirl. Strike. Somewhere in the dance of the swords Gannon could hear the shadow. "I am Link!" it screamed. "I am the hero of Time!" Slash. Duck. Thrust. Dodge. Swipe. Block. Parry. Slash. Blood.

The shadow stumbled back, falling to one knee as it grabbed its arm. Thick, black blood, speckled the floor, then pooled out below his elbow. It sparkled with purple glitter when the light hit it. The shadow bowed its head.

Gannon looked coldly upon it. He had commissioned this creature's creation solely to test the skills of the boy, Link. After all, the shadow had retained the boy's memories, and therefore his skill. However, Gannon could see that he would get no more fight from the shadow. With a gesture almost like a clap, but resulting in a sound closer to the ringing of a bell, he summoned Colm over to him. "Take him away. I've no use for him now."

"Where should I-"

"Anywhere. I want him gone. But let him live. If he ever wakes up from this self-pitying stupor, I'll want to fight him again."

Colm bowed. He raised the shadow to his feet, and led him without struggle to the door.

"Do not forget his sword."

Colm hastily retrieved the blade from where it had been dropped. The shadow stood where he had been left, head bowed in defeat.

Ca-chink. K-k-k-k-k-k-k-k-k-k-k-k-k-k-k-kt. Above all things, Colm enjoyed showing off his toys. This was, of course, only a replacement for his old Hookshot, but it was much longer, and far more effective. He grinned at the man next to him. "This," he began, flourishing the object in his face, "is a Longshot. A new model of the Hookshot."

The shadow gave no response. He still held his sword in his hand, despite Colm's repeated attempts to sheath it. The shadow kept staring at it, as though it would give him some sort of answer. Colm sighed, exasperated. "You know, you really should show me some respect."

"Why would I do that?" The shadow didn't look up.

"I created you. And the created must pay homage to their creator, like children to parents, or men to Gods."

"You… created me."

"Yes." Colm smiled, pleased that the shadow was catching on. "And you know what, as my creation, I think I have the right to name you."

The shadow's head shot up. He stared at Colm, whose smiling, arrogant face suddenly dropped. The shadow gritted his teeth, and raised his sword. At the end of its arc Colm was lying on the floor. He was vainly attempting to hold his stomach together as vital organs and blood vied to evacuate first. The shadow stood over him. "I am not your toy." He spat. "I hate you for making me. And for that, you deserve no respect."

He stepped over the dying body. Leaning over, he delicately picked up the fallen longshot. He aimed it randomly, and watched it clang against the wall and reel back.

There was a door in front of him. He pressed his hand against it, and it opened. He looked back at the corpse. "Goodbye." He said softly.

Colm's body caught fire as the shadow passed through the door.