AUTHOR'S NOTE (which you are probably not reading because who does?): I'm back! Here's an update! Sorry it took so long. Review if you're still alive out there, please... or if you're a zombie. I'm not picky.

So yes, here, a chapter. Quite.

The flash and the thunder woke up every resident of Kakariko Village. They rushed out the doorways of the windmill hut and the shooting gallery, emerging from their makeshift homes to see the spectacle.

The remnant of the flash was visible in the black sky, hovering over Castletown. The pale green light formed a halo over the destroyed city and pulsed gently, glazing over the stars as if they had no power. The light then flashed blue and red, and someone remarked that it had to be the Temple of Time.

A moment later, another shrieking boom echoed as lightning forked down above the market, making contact with the distant high steeple of the temple. Several villagers screamed as a plume of sparks and flame erupted from the holy building. The green light dissipated like rain and fell away. The fire calmed quickly, and the night was silent again.

The Hylians stood still for a long while, before eventually dismissing the event as just another bizarre effect of Ganondorf's reign.

A strange cry echoed through the air. One woman pointed again to the sky, where a great, winged shape was curving down over the village. As the bird grew closer, the villagers could see it was an owl, and that it's leg supported the slumping frame of a man.

Wake up.

The strange voice called out in soft but urgent tones.

You must awaken.

It seemed to him that he did not want to be awake at all, but that he should be sleeping for the rest of time. He was at first angry at the voice.

With anger came the sensation of closing his eyes tighter. He realized he could feel his face moving, and the soft flow of air as he breathed.

Awaken!

His eyes opened wide.

He saw the wooden beams beneath the ceiling, glanced over every cobweb and breathed in the dusty air with confusion. He gasped, as if he needed more than his lungs could give him. His mind told him that it was night.

Tentatively, he flexed his left hand. It was burning, and hurt to move. He wondered where he was and why his hand should hurt so much. Still disoriented, he attempted to sit up.

Just before the pain came the memory, brightly appearing in his consciousness as the sharp stinging ripped across his chest. He fell back down, slamming his head mightily against the table. His hand skittered over the wooden surface to hang limply from the edge.

He remembered dying. He remembered feeling the cold metal piercing his skin and Ganondorf's twisting smile. He coughed a little, bringing another rush of pain. The knowledge of his own death clouded his mind.

But he was alive.

The fear of death vanished and was instantly replaced by a thousand questions. He needed to move. He clenched his hand and focused on sitting up.

By leaning on one arm, he managed to make it halfway there. As he tried too hard to move forward, the burning pain returned, a hundred times worse than before. His whole body felt on fire, and he fell again with a guttural scream. His head lolled to the side as he began to cough. He tasted blood in the back of his mouth.

"No..." he said, though speaking felt like grinding metal in his throat, "... not... again..."

Then, mercifully, miraculously, the door across from him opened. He heard a gasp, then a sharp voice crying out.

"Mama! Mama, come quick! The Hero's alive!"

Zelda awoke to feel herself falling, but could not react in time to forestall a harsh landing on a stone floor. Her cheek scraped painfully across the rough-hewn blocks, and her eyes opened to a disorienting darkness. She wheezed in pain, feeling her face beginning to bleed.

Voices nearby were speaking loudly, but the sounds made no sense. Zelda blinked in their direction, able to make out shapes in the darkness. There were figures, shadowy in the firelight of a single torch. Their frames were obscured by thick bars.

"I'll let you deal with him for now," Ganondorf was saying, "I have other matters to attend to."

"Yes, my lord," came Nabooru's hushed reply.

"I trust," the king answered in a low voice, "you have an explanation as to why you followed me here."

"My lord, a scout saw him traveling toward the fortress. I came hoping to forestall an attack. I am sorry I was... too late."

There was a short pause, then Ganondorf huffed in acceptance. He turned and vanished into the darkness, cloak rustling behind him. Nabooru gave quiet orders to her fellow Gerudo, who handed her the torch and bowed, taking her leave. Their footsteps faded into silence.

"You double-crossing bastard," Nabooru hissed, kneeling in front of the cell bars.

Sheik moaned and rolled onto his back, feeling hot tears welling in his eyes. An overwhelming sense of desolation twisted his stomach. Impa was dead. Link was long gone. There would be no escape this time.

"I helped you," Nabooru's voice was barely a whisper, but still rang of fury, "and you killed my sisters."

An empty smile stretched across Sheik's lips. So this was how Hyrule would fall. With all hope trapped in a tiny cage in the Gerudo desert. The absurdity was almost hilarious.

Outside the bars, Nabooru stood and pulled a keyring from its hook at her waist. Inserting a key into the lock before her, she chuckled darkly.

"I am going to enjoy killing you slowly, Sheikah," the Gerudo opened the door wide.

"Go ahead," Sheik muttered, "may it bring you joy."

Nabooru paused, disarmed.

Sheik laughed quietly, "I had to kill them. Just as your king had to kill Impa. None of us have a choice in the matter."

His laugh grew louder, crazed, and he threw back his head to let out a bestial roar. The sound dwindled in his throat, and he choked somewhere between a laugh and a sob. Another few tears burned across his bleeding cheek.

He was aware of the movement as Nabooru lunged, and did not fight as she pinned him to the ground. He stared blankly up at her furious face.

"Stop it," She commanded him, thrusting a short knife under his chin, "Do not think I'll ever make the mistake of pitying you."

Sheik had no response, and did not care. He was deep inside himself, where he was Zelda. Zelda was thinking of Link and Impa and her father, and of a time she might see them again. She thought of her childhood, and of how young she felt. She looked on in defeated sorrow at the woman above her, who held death in her hand.

Something of Zelda's pain showed in Sheik's eyes as he looked carelessly upon Nabooru. The Gerudo woman's hand shook slightly.

"Stop," she repeated, taking a few short breaths.

Sheik closed his eyes, turning his head away from her. He felt her fingernails dig into his shoulder.

He heard Nabooru shout in wordless fury, and felt the rush of air as the knife raised and descended toward him. The point clinked into the ground. Nabooru let out a quiet groan.

Sheik opened his eyes to see the knife protruding from the stone an inch away from his face. Nabooru's hand still rested on the grip, quaking. Sheik looked up at her in distant curiosity.

The Gerudo's yellow eyes were weak. Her head fell forward.

"We... are not so different," she said slowly, "You're right."

Sheik opened his mouth slightly, about to respond. A stabbing pain in his left hand caused him to cry out instead. Nabooru gasped and leapt back, landing on her knees with her knife held aloft.

Sheik grasped his hand to his chest. A bright glow erupted from beneath the wrapping around his hand. The smell of singing fabric filled his nostrils as the triforce of wisdom illuminated the prison hall. The glow vanished suddenly, leaving Sheik to clutch his aching hand. He pushed himself up to look in terror toward Nabooru. Certain his identity would be revealed, he slid backward across the cell floor until his back made contact with the bars.

However, the Gerudo appeared only stunned. She was staring at the floor with a pained expression in wet eyes. Her hand fell to the ground, and the knife clanged free.

"You're... right..." Nabooru mumbled vaguely, still fixated on the place where her knife had fallen, "I... did not want... this war."

She had not seen the flash. A tiny hope lit in Sheik's mind.

"I..." Nabooru wiped her eyes, "was against him... after he changed. But he... broke me."

She looked up at Sheik for the first time, crawling toward him. He noticed a clarity about her face he had not seen before.

"He was too strong," she said earnestly, "like the voice who said 'sleep.' I tried to fight him, but he overcame me, and I---"

"What voice?"

Nabooru started as if shaken, then looked around wildly, as if unaware of her surroundings. Sheik pressed himself against the bars, fighting a strange urge to comfort the disoriented Gerudo.

She finally looked at him.

"... Sheik?" she asked in a small voice.

He waited.

"What have I done?"

"Well," the old witch was saying, "I suppose that's proof you're the Hero of Time."

Link closed his eyes, breathing deeply.

The events after his reawakening had been blurred and confusing. There had been a little girl, who went for help... but then there were two strong men carrying between them a younger man who looked half-dead, bloodied and beaten. They had called for aid upon finding Link alive.

Link remembered a tall, wide man pushing back a crowd, and the groans of the injured man as they set him on a counter opposite Link. Now the old potion shop witch was moving between Link and the other man, talking more to herself than to them.

"In any case, we're all very glad to see you alive, young man. Both of you."

Link felt her hand press gently into his shoulder as she lifted his torn tunic. The soft movement of air over his stomach and chest stung at his senses. There was a pause.

"Hmm," the witch muttered, "almost totally healed. Strong magic...yes..."

Without warning, she poured something freezing over the wound in his chest. Link gasped as his eyes flew open. He cringed, but the old woman held him down.

"Easy," she said softly, "let the potion do its work."

He took a few deep breaths, nodding against the biting cold. His chest began stinging, then burning, but Link clenched his jaw and remained silent, determined to outlast the pain.

The witch smiled sympathetically and turned away, tending to the other man. Link listened to their conversation, wanting to focus on anything but the sensation of knitting flesh beneath his ribcage.

"Avin," the witch was softly chiding, "what on earth happened to you?"

"Well..." rasped the man, "...Ganondorf happened."

The witch humored him with a chuckle and busied herself cutting away the remainder of his tunic, rubbing salve on his exposed skin.

"Where were you?" she continued.

"Poe hunting," he breathed laughter, "of... all things."

"Near their desert fortress?"

"Nnh... Goddesses, Gran... that hurts."

"Oh, hush. You've been through worse, I can tell."

He groaned but did not protest again. The potion shop went quiet.

Link stared hard at the wood ceiling, trying to gather his thoughts. He could not comprehend why he was still alive, so he attempted to put his death out of his mind. He would have to find his sword, and probably some new clothes. Then he would look for Navi. After that, there was Sheik to deal with. Sheik, who was the key to finding Zelda.

"Zelda," Link whispered in spite of himself.

"What's that?" called the old woman, moving stiffly to his side.

"Please," he swallowed back a rush of pain, "where is Sheik?"

The old woman blinked at him, then glanced around. She watched the closed front door for a moment, then leaned close to Link.

"He was in a bad way after you... well... He didn't talk to anyone for awhile, not even Impa. Then he up and left with that Gerudo general, Goddesses know why."

Link's blood chilled, "Nabooru?"

"Yes, her. But I trust him. He must know what he's doing."

She half-turned to check on her other patient. Her face became a mask of horror.

"Avin!" she hobbled away from Link, "Lie down!"

"I have to go home," Avin muttered.

"You have to not die, is what you have to do, you bullheaded---"

Link let their argument fade from his consciousness. He was more concerned with his next move. He was too weak to pursue Sheik deep into Gerudo territory, even if the burning in his chest had slowed to a gentle tingling. He still needed rest.

He closed his eyes, attempting to calm himself. The voices of the old woman and the young man wafted in and out of his mind.

"... no use you killing yourself over it," said the witch, "besides, Anju's there to care for her."

"Malon... needs me," Avin said.

"She can get along for now, just lie down and---"

Realizing what he'd heard, Link pushed himself up on his elbows, staring across the room at Avin's bruised face.

"You too?" the witch said in exasperation, "For the love of Farore, both of you, rest!"

Avin met Link's stare with some confusion, then seeming comprehension. He leaned heavily on one arm, peering at Link through his one open eye.

"You're Link," he said slowly.

"...Yes," the Hero answered.

"Malon's told me about you. We've met, I think," Avin continued, still speaking in a slow voice, "My name is Avin. This is--- was my potion shop."

Link's memory floated back to an exchange with another shopkeeper, one that seemed ancient to him. Abandoned shop, monsters got him, wife at home... baby on the way...

The recognition stunned Link into silence.

"I... understand you were friends," Avin said with a slight defensive air.

"We are," Link muttered, "Congratulations..."

After a pause, Avin coughed, "Thank you,"

"She's... and amazing woman," Link said around the tightness in his throat.

"I know."

Silence fell momentarily, and the witch took the opportunity to intercede.

"There, now that's settled," she snapped, "introductions done, you'll both lie down and rest before I give you sleeping draughts. Don't think I'm above it."

Link eased himself back down and turned his head away from the other man, who continued to make further protests. Link's mind went nearly blank.

He was happy for them, of course, but there was sadness as well, crawling its way up his spine. There was guilt --- he hadn't been there --- and there was jealousy. In the moment, he wanted their peace more than anything. He knew he could never have it.

But there was Zelda to think about. If he could find her, make sure she was safe, that would be enough. It would have to be enough. In the meantime, he would fight to protect everything Avin was now weakly pleading for.

He slipped into sleep, dreaming of the princess and a time he would finally see her smile.

Ganondorf watched somberly as Din flung the small vase across the room. It shattered against the opposite wall.

"You stupid man!" she was screaming at him, "You have ruined everything!"

They were in the king's private chamber, deep inside the hideout. Ganondorf was seated on the side of his grand bed, half-dressed. Din was pacing aimlessly around the room, occasionally throwing something or blasting it with her fiery magic.

"I thought you wanted Impa," the Gerudo king said calmly.

"As my sacrifice, yes!" Din stopped in her pacing to whirl on him, taking a menacing step his way, "Not for Nayru!"

"I don't see the difference," Ganondorf admitted with little emotion. He was rubbing his hand absently. It had not stopped hurting since about an hour after Impa's death, when Din had appeared and caused the triforce mark to burn.

Din let out an animal groan, "If you had simply killed her, her soul would have been mine to command! But you, you had to tell her everything!"

"She's dead, isn't she?"

"A willing sacrifice! A soul that sent itself straight to my ignorant little sister!"

Ganondorf sighed, patience tested, "Either way, Farore had her sacrifice. What else is there?"

Din charged toward him, planting her hands on his knees and digging in sharp fingernails, "You have no idea what you have done, little host. By giving my sacrifice to Nayru, you have increased her power along with Farore's. We are weakened by comparison, you fool!"

The Gerudo king stared into Din's outraged eyes, then simply nodded, looking away. A distant thought occurred to him, and he glanced back down at Din's passionate face.

"What of the Hero?"

"...What?" Din released her grasp on his knees and stood up straight.

Ganondorf flexed his hand, "Will he be reborn?"

The thought seemed alien to Din, who answered with an enchanted expression, "No."

"No?"

She shook her head, long hair tangling itself in her large hoop earring.

"No," Ganondorf said again, reaching up to brush her hair free of the hoop, "And yet your sister Farore is alive and well."

Din smiled wolfishly, "The triforce of courage is without a host."

"Precisely," his hand cupped the curve of her neck.

She moved in close to him, between his legs. Her hands ran along his shoulders and down his wide chest. He grasped her by the arms, looking over her body with an expression of greed.

"Perhaps all is not lost, little chosen one," Din whispered, peering up at him enticingly through the curtain of her deep red hair, "We must trick Nayru into exposing her host."

Ganondorf watched her lips draw close, and leaned into her burning kiss. Her fingers raked through his hair and down the back of his neck.

For a phantom moment, he felt a different hand, cool and loving, brushing across his skin. He pushed Din back suddenly with a rough grasp around her wrists. She paused in total bewilderment. Ganondorf felt a fleeting hatred against her, and a deep pang of loss. He stared at her as if at a strange enemy.

Her eyes widened, then narrowed to mimic concern.

"Am I truly so awful?" she asked coaxingly.

The hatred melted immediately away as he remembered who he was, and what he wanted from his goddess. He let go of her wrists. She drew near to him again until he could feel her hot breath on his lips.

Din smiled with a small chuckle, and stepped up to balance on the footboard of the bed. She pushed Ganondorf back by the shoulders, and he allowed himself to fall onto the silken blankets. She followed him, pressing her body to his.

"Do not worry, little king," she whispered into his ear, "there will be no need to think of other things tonight."

Her skin was nearly burning him, but Ganondorf did nothing to divert her attention. Her power lulled him like wine. He closed his eyes as her lips traveled downward from his neck, banishing all thoughts of mortality with the rush of fire through his veins.