The goddesses sat in their chamber, still as glass. Farore was stretched upon the pedestal that had held her coffin. Din and Nayru were side by side, sitting on a boulder and watching her.

It should not be, sister, Nayru looked to the far wall, The triforce cannot occupy a dead host.

I know, Din answered bluntly.

We should not even have awoken! We set the path of fate to follow---

We were mistaken, Nayru.

Farore writhed against her weakness, the light of her body faded to a dull glimmer. She moaned wordlessly.

Din stood and paced, restless, We cannot afford to lose the balance, sister. A new sacrifice must be made.

No! Nayru gasped, Farore forbade us!

She is not in a condition to give orders.

Din, how could you?

Enough! Din turned fiercely, If she continues to deny fate, she will kill herself. The power balance must be maintained!

Nayru stared at her furious sister, shocked. The silence was broken by Farore's groans of pain. Her green aura flickered into near darkness for a moment.

We must return to Hyrule, Din continued, We have no other choice. If we do nothing, the land will be destroyed.

But the Hero--- Nayru stood, pleading, Farore's power, it remains in---

Din darted across the small chamber and closed a hand around Nayru's throat. The cerulean goddess struggled against her sister's strength.

I will not accept failure, Din hissed, It is no fault of mine that Farore granted her power to a weak host.

She released Nayru, who collapsed to the bone floor, coughing. Din paced the perimeter of the cavern, then pressed a blazing red hand to the wall. The bone melted beneath her hand, and the mountain began to tremble. As the sanctuary began to crumble, Din turned to look at her sisters.

I will do what I must to save our land, she said, her voice filled with power, even if it should mean the reign of darkness.

Din! Nayru called, standing slowly.

But the foundation had already fallen, and the mountain was opening to reveal a portal to Hyrule. The white light surrounded the goddesses, the voices of their people calling them home.

"What was wrong with his original name?" a Gerudo asked her companions, pouring herself a goblet of wine, "Not catchy enough?"

This earned laughter and several catcalls from the nearby warriors.

Nabooru sat in the corner of the soldiers' mess hall, smiling slightly as her women feasted and joked amongst themselves.

Ganondorf had summoned a sizeable audience to announce that he would henceforth be known as Lord Ganon, and that he would officially crown himself King of Hyrule once Zelda was found and eliminated. Nabooru thought it was the funniest thing she had ever heard.

"He has to maintain appearances, right?" asked another young woman, yanking her red hair free of its ponytail, "Ganon, King of Darkness... has kind of a meaner sound."

"I think it's pure disrespectful," shouted an older Gerudo, who was clutching a bottle of wine and appeared somewhat drunk, "His Gerudo mother gave him that name, didn' she?"

A cacophony of cheers echoed through the hall, and Nabooru stood quickly to regain control of her soldiers.

"Enough! Enough," she yelled, and a general hush fell over the assembled women, "let's not forget who we work for."

Several women nodded, but more looked unconvinced.

"We work for you," muttered a teenaged Gerudo, who Nabooru recognized as the messenger from the desert hideout.

"And I say you work for Lord Ganon," Nabooru said despite herself.

Relative silence greeted this statement, and Nabooru sensed the morale in the room threatening to shatter.

"Come on," she raised her voice, "we're here to celebrate, aren't we?"

A chorus of half-hearted cheers followed this.

"We're Gerudo, aren't we? That means three things we're good at. First is stealing, second is fighting, and third," she heaved her goblet into the air, "is drinking until the cucco crows!"

A rowdier cheer met her words, and several women began a drinking chant. Attention gradually turned from Nabooru to the celebration. The Gerudo leader sat back down, frowning.

The soldiers wanted an overthrow every bit as much as Nabooru did. She had to convince them to be patient, or their behavior would alert Ganondorf to her plan. Once he discovered his brainwashing had failed, he would kill Nabooru and tell her soldiers she had betrayed them. She could not allow this to happen.

A slow smile tipped the corner of her lip as she considered her plan. Ganondorf expected a coronation by the end of the season. If Nabooru had her way, he would receive a funeral instead.

"But who will mourn you?" she asked the reflection in her goblet, a dark grin warping her features.

When she could discern an excuse to leave the palace for a few days, she would set her plan into motion.

"And then," she murmured, watching her women as they celebrated their master's victory, "we'll be free, my lord. Your precious wasteland will be ours."

She raised her glass in a salute to the Gerudo soldiers. She had as much time as she needed. The only key now was patience.

Ganondorf watched the young Gerudo leave the throne room, bowing as she went. He released his concealed grimace of disgust and leaned his chin against an upheld fist.

He had sent for Nabooru. He needed to discuss their next plan.

Thinking of her, he sighed. As useless as she was, her authority over the Gerudos was a comforting asset. Her inevitable death would be more than regrettable.

"My lord?" she stepped through the gap in the heavy doors, her yellow eyes watching him warily.

"Close the door," he ordered her.

She did so, then walked over to him. She stopped on the step just before the throne, her chin tilted toward her king.

He looked her over with some amusement, allowing her a half-smile.

"Nabooru, I have always trusted you with matters of importance."

This was a lie, but appealing to Nabooru's pride had often proved wise in the past.

She nodded.

"Thus," he continued, smile disappearing, "I find it fair to warn you that I have encountered a... snag of sorts."

One of Nabooru's arched eyebrows raised slowly, "Snag?"

Ganondorf glanced away from her, unsure how to phrase his dilemma.

"The boy?" Nabooru enquired softly.

"The Hero," Ganondorf snapped, correcting her.

There was a momentary silence as the king stared intensely at a tapestried wall. He had not planned for this; he should have absorbed the Hero's triforce piece.

"His power..." he finally said, "did not merge with mine."

He looked to Nabooru.

"But..." she began, then stopped. She looked to the ground, obviously confused.

Ganondorf flexed his bandaged arm, cracking his knuckles methodically. He waited as Nabooru searched the ground for an appropriate response to his statement.

"The legends," she began again, "they all said that---"

"I know what they said. Apparently the ancient Hylians were as incompetent as their descendants."

He watched her face as she comprehended the meaning in his words.

"Then... the rest of the legends..." her beautiful face was awestruck.

"They must have left something out," Ganondorf considered, rubbing his jaw, "something key."

Nabooru's face became a mask of earnest helpfulness, an expression Ganondorf found vaguely disturbing on her sharp features.

"He could not have survived," she listed, "and a dead body wouldn't hold that kind of power."

He gave her a patronizing glance, then resumed his consideration of the subject.

"It's almost as if I wasn't strong enough," he mused.

"But my lord, you have the triforce of power. You are stronger than he was."

He continued, lost in thought, "As if my power alone was not enough to..."

His words faltered as a dangerous notion made its way into his head. He leaned back in his throne, vision glazed.

If his power alone was not enough, there was only one greater source.

"All of them..." he whispered, horrified.

"My lord?"

"They had to be together," he said, still staring into oblivion, "all of them."

Nabooru fell instantly silent as she realized exactly what he was saying.

Ganondorf stood, brushing aimlessly past Nabooru as he descended the steps beneath the throne. He felt himself begin to shake, and clenched his fists against it, sending shooting pains up his injured arm.

"Get out," he growled at Nabooru.

"Please," she moved toward him, "my lord, let me---"

"Nabooru," he lowered his voice, "get out, or I kill you now."

She froze for a moment, standing just behind him. Then she moved quickly past him, head bowed. She paused again with her hand on the door. Her eyes gleamed at him as she dared to hesitate.

"I... will not tell the soldiers, my lord."

He simply glared at her, imagining ways to murder her.

She gave him a pointedly sad look and opened the dark door, slipping into the carpeted hallway with barely a noise.

As the silence settled around him, Ganondorf finally felt the weight of his mistake. His breath came in short rasps.

"There has to be another way," he said to himself, hating the words.

But if he was wrong... if he had killed his only chance to control the triforce...

He closed his eyes against the thought and tried to calm himself. There was more than one path to any end. He would have to find someone who knew the way.

A nervous breath of laughter escaped his lips.

"Princess," he told the floor, "all roads lead to you."

"Alright," Impa was telling the villagers, "we'll have two advantages over them. We're uphill, and they're not expecting us."

The people were passing around what arms they had concealed amongst themselves, muttering and whispering excitedly. All were eager for bloodshed.

Sheik was kneeling in front of the little girl who was holding Link's travel bag.

"Please," Sheik took the girl by the shoulders, startling her, "where is he?"

She looked away, shrinking back, "M..mama said not to tell... or the bad women will find him."

"Please, I promise I won't tell them," Sheik said urgently.

The little girl began to cry silently, obviously shaken. Sheik swallowed against a dry throat and tried to hold back the panic in his head.

"I'm sorry," he said softly, "I didn't mean to scare you. May I apologize?"

The child nodded.

"My name is Sheik."

"I'm Leeru," she wiped an eye with a small fist.

"Leeru," Sheik continued, glancing over his shoulder to see the villagers preparing for attack, "this bag belongs to a friend of mine. I need to---"

Before he could finish, the child gasped and burst into tears. She pulled away from Sheik's hands and ran through the crowd to grasp at her mother's skirt. The woman glanced at Sheik, then at Impa.

Sheik followed the woman's gaze to see Impa staring at him. She moved her silver head in the direction of the door.

Slinging Link's bag over his shoulder, Sheik stood. He moved silently through the buzzing crowd to Impa's side. His pulse was rushing loudly through his ears.

"The Gerudos are still busy panicking," Impa's voice floated across what seemed like hundreds of miles, "so I suggest we make our move now."

"I..." Sheik took a breath, "Link was here."

Impa's face went blank, her eyes wide.

"I'm going to look for him," Sheik met the elder Sheikah's gaze, "Can you handle them without me?"

"Yes," Impa said hurriedly, "we'll be fine, you have to find him. Lead the children to the back woods, then go."

"Right. The panel is---"

"It still works. Go."

Sheik nodded and slipped back into the throng of people, moving around various upheld weapons. He gave a weak smile to Leeru and her mother as they ushered the other children toward the back of the windmill.

Keeping his mental panic in check, Sheik counted the bricks that made up the back wall. Third column from the support beam, eighth brick from the floor. He pushed hard on the stone and the bricks beside it moved as one, swinging back on a hinge to create a small doorway in the tower.

Sheik stood to one side as several of the village women ushered the children into the smoke-filled night. Leeru's mother gave him an appraising look, holding her daughter in her arms. As the last little boy edged past him, Sheik looked to Impa, who nodded. The men and women between the two Sheikah were armed and ready to fight.

Turning his back on the villagers, Sheik stepped outside and shut the hidden door behind himself. He looked briefly over the women who had accompanied their children out of the windmill.

"You'll need to stay as quiet as possible," he whispered to them, "in case they've set up guards in the forest. I'll get you through the fence..."

Several of them nodded. Leeru's mother pushed her hair back in determination. The potion shop witch looked like she might faint as she leaned on Anju's arm. Behind them, Mamamu Yan's large shape was silhouetted against the night sky. She attempted to flash Sheik a suggestive smile.

"Alright," Sheik muttered, peering around the side of the windmill. The Gerudos were gathered around the tree near the village gates, seemingly re-grouping.

He motioned to the group behind him, running to the edge of the fence where the wood structure met the hillside. Building a magic charge, he pulled out a short knife and drew it down the length of the fence. Blue magic sparked and a segment of fence fell free, creating an opening.

"Go," he whispered gravely.

The women pushed the children ahead, and Sheik counted seven children as they went by. He would make sure to check that number again later.

He caught Anju's arm as she moved past him. Her blue eyes stared at him in mixed fear and resolution.

"There's a dead tree," he said quietly into her ear, "a white oak about a mile in, due northeast. Can you get them there?"

She barely nodded, stiff with apprehension.

"Pry off the wood along the seam, there's a stairway leading to a hidden chamber. Stay there until someone comes to get you."

"Alright," she murmured, and Sheik released her arm. He was surprised when Anju leaned close to him and pressed something into the palm of his hand, her red hair brushing his face. She took an uneven step back, then followed the others into the darkness of the forest.

Behind her disguise, Zelda said a silent prayer for them. She turned toward Kakariko in time to see Impa and the villagers rush from the front door of the Windmill, charging down the steps at the shocked Gerudos.

As the two forces met, Zelda tore her eyes away from the early battle to the object in her palm. Anju had given her a small piece of paper, folded over multiple times by nervous hands.

Zelda unfolded it, heart beginning to race again.

The words staring up at her were barely visible in the darkness, but they filled her with hope and terror.

Dampe's Hut.