Disclaimer: I'm not Nintendo.

Part Two

Link froze just outside the door, his hand inches from the handle.

Something had changed.

He couldn't define the strange feeling that washed over him at that moment, but deep down he knew it was caused by whatever was on the other side of that door. The Water Temple had many rooms which often contained sinister traps or, more recently, monsters waiting to maul anything that encroached on their territory, but so far nothing he had seen produced such a sensation as this. It was almost like ... déjà vu ... but was that even possible?

He wasn't sure if it made any difference. ...

Whatever it was, the feeling was quickly overshadowed by the weight of dread, and after all the trials he had been through, that alone was enough to give him pause. Not even the eerie apparition Ganondorf had prepared for him in the Forest Temple had given off so strong an aura, one that seemed to wrap an unnatural chill around his heart. His skin tingled.

He looked down at his hand, saw it suspended in mid-air as though held there by some invisible force. Standing there was not helping him accomplish anything; waiting would only increase his nervousness. His fingers closed around the door handle, his other hand moved to his sword hilt, and taking a deep breath, Link pushed open the door and stepped inside.

It was as though he had left the temple completely. Instead of entering another room with bluish stone walls that glimmered in the dim light, he stood on what appeared to be a small island of dirt surrounded by an endless body of water and a sky the color of bleached bone. Two other islands rose from the water across from him: the middle one featured only a small, dead-looking tree, while the farther one held some sort of structure with a door in the center. The water formed a perfect mirror of the two islands and the white sky.

He approached the water's edge. It was shallow, he saw once he was near enough to step in it; the water level did not quite reach his ankles. Hoping that it would not become much deeper before he reached the far island, he set out to investigate the small building. Whatever this place was, it was unlike any other he had seen in any temple thus far. He didn't see anything especially sinister about the strange lake, but the sooner he left it the better, as far as he was concerned.

Fortunately the water remained shallow all the way across. The structure, small as it was, took up nearly the whole island, and was made of a dark stone carved with the same flowing, swirling patterns that embellished much of the Water Temple. The door, however, remained firmly locked when he tried to open it. He examined the wall of the building, checking to see if there was a mechanism that might open the door.

That feeling again …

The hair on the nape of his neck rose as though a shock of static had run through it. He sensed very clearly that he was being watched. Gripping his sword hilt with his left hand, he turned around slowly, scanning the silvery surface of the water. When he had turned completely around he noticed that the door he had come through appeared to be situated in the front wall of a building no larger than the one he now stood beside—but the Water Temple was so huge, surely that couldn't be possible? Then he noticed something strange about the middle island with the dead tree: the trunk of the tree seemed to have changed shape slightly . . .

A rush of adrenaline hit him and he drew his sword before he knew why. As he did so, the darkened area around the tree trunk made a similar motion and he realized that it was some kind of moving shadow… He began to come closer to it, and saw that its outline was humanoid… holding a shadow sword… a shield… dressed in a dark tunic and hat…

With a start he realized that he was looking at a shadow image of himself, slightly translucent and with eerie crimson eyes that shone faintly within the dark outline of its face. It was rather shocking to be confronted with such a sinister version of his own reflection. He took a deep breath, trying to refocus.

He stepped toward it but before he could get close, the shadow danced back and brandished its weapon mockingly. The Master Sword swept across in an experimental slash but was met by the mirror image of its attack—and then, before Link could retract his hand, the shadow sword darted around his blade and bit into his arm, quicker than seemed possible.

Link pulled away, his sword arm deeply gashed. The Master Sword felt heavy in his hand—extremely heavy. How had that attack come so fast? There had been no time to react. He brought up his shield and tried to grit through the pain, but he sensed that he was in trouble.

The shadow brought up its shield as well, perfectly in time with him.

The fight that followed was a strange dance. The opponents circled each other in exact unison, with neither gaining any advantage from the movement. Every so often a silver blade would dart out, hoping to slice through a nonexistent opening, but instead it was met by a shadow shield, or parried by a shadow blade, and then more often than not, the shadow blade would manage to nick its enemy's flesh, or occasionally draw a more serious wound. The various cuts and the attempt to keep pace with his shadow were beginning to take their toll on Link, but mostly, he felt a growing sense of frustration and even panic – he had not yet landed a single hit on this… thing, whatever it was… And staring into those creepy, soulless red eyes, from a face built to match his own… This was by far unlike any battle he had ever faced before.

And his shadow could move impossibly fast, for something that seemed determined to match him step for step... He actually found himself wondering why it didn't just go after him at full speed, since it was obviously so much faster than he could hope to be, especially with his sword arm already wounded. Was it hoping to wear him down until he couldn't defend himself at all? But why bother with the effort? Unless… what if it didn't really have a choice? It was somehow connected to him, after all – what if it could only fight based on Link's own fighting style?

It did seem like the harder Link tried to strategize his movements, the better his shadow became at retaliating, while still never getting hurt itself…

Goddesses, that was frustrating.

An idea half-formed in his mind, and in his anger and pain and fear, he went for it without considering it any further. Immediately he stopped the cautious, planned approach he had been taking with his attacks. Instead, he focused on the anger he felt, and rushed almost haphazardly into the battle, swinging his sword wildly. It was an incredibly stupid move, and some more lucid part of his mind was waiting for his enemy to impale him at any moment – except that it never did.

For the first time in the entire battle, the shadow's attempts to defend itself didn't match Link's attacks quite so perfectly, and its offense was becoming almost sluggish – the shadow sword didn't come close to touching him. It was as if the shadow no longer understood how the tide of the battle was supposed to run, and didn't know how to react to its opponent's berserk attacks.

And for the first time in the entire battle, the Master Sword bit deeply into shadow-flesh.

There was hardly any resistance – Link slashed the sword through his enemy's chest almost without trying. There was a cry of pain – his own voice, but not his voice – and the shadow fell away, literally dissolving into a wisp of black smoke that dissipated into the water below.

Link doubled over in exhaustion and relief – and pain, he realized as the Master Sword finally slipped from his hand. He watched as blood splattered into the water, forming little clouds that swirled slowly like crimson mist across the reflective surface…

The water…

There was something not right about it…

It didn't look any different than before, though – still the same unbroken expanse of water covering the floor, mirroring the few physical features scattered throughout the room. A perfect mirror image…

And suddenly, he realized what had been bothering him about the room. He looked down at his feet, turning a small circle just to be sure, and confirmed his suspicion.

He had no reflection in the water. Not so much as a shadow.

But he did have a shadow – it was just somewhere else…

His eyes widened and he made a frantic grab for the Master Sword – the hilt almost slipped right out of his weakened grip, slick with blood and water, but he managed to keep hold of it. But he wasn't nearly fast enough.

Before he could even turn around, a shadow sword punched through his chest from behind. A wordless cry escaped him and then he was falling, the sword retracted and his world was spinning in agony. He slammed brutally into a solid surface that must have been the ground, and somehow, just before his world darkened completely, he noticed bizarrely that there was no water after all – the ground was bone dry.

The last thing he heard was his own voice, but not his voice, and it sounded so very, very far away, echoing softly in his ears: "Free."

The Hero of Time released one final breath, and was still. A flash of golden light filled the air…

To be continued.

AN: Did I just kill off my fictional husband? ... Damn.

If Link's "strategy" here seems ridiculous, that's because it is. The first time I played OoT, I beat Dark Link no problem. I've played through the game at least 300,000 times since then, and while I can get through most of it blindfolded, the Dark Link fight actually kept getting harder every time I played it. (I never use anything but the Master Sword and shield for that fight.) One day, after trying every strategy I could think of and getting killed five hundred or so times in a row, I got really mad and didn't bother to refill my hearts or anything - I just went in there with only three hearts and started button-mashing my fury out on Dark Link. And then I beat him without losing a single piece of heart. Aargh.

Anyhow, as always, thanks for reading.