A bright light flashed on the other side of his closed eyes, and he knew that Navi's wake-up call was about to begin. Though half asleep, he cringed and pulled the pillow over his head.

"Wake up, wake up, rise and shine!" she sang, flying above Link's huddled form. "The morning light is fresh and fine, and we have many things we must attend to!"

"There is no morning light, Navi, go away," he groaned.

She grasped a corner of the quilt and gleefully threw it back. "It's a bright and bonnie day, so let's not sleep it all away! After all—"

"—time stops for no one, even you. I know, I'll get up in just a second, just . . . ten more minutes."

Navi's blue glow had gone white with shock. "You remembered. It's impossible, but you remembered!"

"Membered what."

"The wake-up song! It's something I came up with during your ques—um. When we knew each other. It annoyed you to the point of madness."

"Now that," said Link, "is the first believable thing you've told me yet."

"Well, believe me when I tell you that we've got a long way to go and we need to get moving now." Navi flew down and began tugging on the collar of Link's robe. She was surprisingly strong . . . and very bright. Even though his eyes were closed, Link grimaced at her brilliance.

"Alright. Alright, I give up," he grunted, sitting up and massaging his eyes. He looked rough; his face was pinched and pale, and his hair, which had still been damp when he fell asleep last night, lay flat on one side and stood out in crooked spikes on the other. There was a crust of dried blood under his left nostril (his nose had not been broken, at least) and his headache had mercifully retreated to the deeper regions of his brain—for now. He could feel it tingling there, waiting for an opportunity to drag itself, shrieking and clawing, back out into the light.

"So what's the plan?" he asked, blearily pulling on his pants and catching his foot in the folds. He stumbled and nearly fell flat on his face. Navi couldn't tell if it was because he was half asleep or wholly uncoordinated. She decided she should help him before he broke something—like a bone.

"First we're going to get you a horse," she explained, flying his long white undershirt over to him. "Then we're going to take the east road to Hyrule. I know a few shortcuts, so we can—here, let me help you with that sleeve—so we can cut an hour or more off of our journey. We should arrive in town at early evening, by my calculations."

Link finished pulling on his clothes and studied his reflection in the long mirror in the corner. "I hope I'm not meeting anyone important today. I look awful."

"Er, well . . ." Navi's glow went a little pink as she flew over with Link's belt. "I wouldn't worry about that. I've seen you look worse, take my word for it."

"I guess I'll have to, since I have no earthly memory of you."

Navi sighed and fetched Link's hat from the corner of the bed. "Listen, I know this all must seem very suspicious, asking you to follow someone you see as a complete stranger," she said, dropping the hat onto his head and flying around to face him. "I understand I'm asking a lot. But I promise you, Link, by the end of this day you will remember everything that you've forgotten, and then you will understand. All I need for you to do right now is to please, please trust me. Can you do that, Link? Will you?"

Link offered up a small, relenting smile. "Well, since you asked so nicely . . ."

Navi let out a burst of sparkles and did a few loops in the air. "Excellent! Wonderful! Oh, I'm so glad!"

"I can tell," Link said, fanning away the falling glitter. "Is this stuff safe to breathe? It tickles my nose."

Unable to contain herself, Navi swooped down and gave his cheek a full-bodied smack. "Come on!" she cried. "To the stable!"

The Norwod people had little need for horses in their mountainous region, preferring to navigate the rugged terrain with ponies or mules; nevertheless, they usually kept one or two horses for southbound travelers, and to this effect had set up a rather convenient taxi system with the surrounding towns and villages. There was only one horse left at the Treeberg livery stable, and this was where Link passed a few of his remaining rupees into the keeper's hand. A few minutes later he was on the heavily wooded east road, following Navi the Fairy toward Hyrule Castle Town. She was very animated and talkative, telling stories about the great forests of Norrelm, Hyrule's northern neighbor, and legends about tree spirits and magical beasts and how greatly things had changed in the last hundred years.

Link listened as best as he could. He still felt dull and sleepy, and if it hadn't been for the rough-gaited horse he was riding, he might have fallen asleep in the saddle. He wished he had a few spoonfuls of that bitter black stuff the Gerudos drank—what did they call it? Kafey? Koufie? Bazlo had introduced him to it on their first trip to the Valley, and Link, after obliviously downing his whole cup to get rid of it as quickly (and politely) as possible, could have outrun Lon Lon's fastest horses. He hadn't been able to sleep for thirty two hours. Bazlo called it the nectar of the gods. Link called it liquid lightning.

He smiled at the memory, and when his thoughts returned to the present, his smile remained. Navi was perched on top of the horse's head, humming to herself. It was nice to have company again, he thought. For the first time since Bazlo had left Hyrule, he felt as if he were finally heading in the right direction.

After a short midday break, Navi steered him off the east road and down forest paths practically invisible to the human eye. These were the shortcuts she had spoken of, and some would have been quite treacherous without a guide; however, she kept Link well-informed of any dangers, and gradually the trees began to thin as the forest gave way to fields.

The walls of Hyrule Castle Town were in sight by sunset, as Navi had predicted. The bright colors that had stretched across the sky hours before had shrunk to a narrow yellow ribbon on the horizon. Now the pale blue veil of twilight, sparkling with stars, drew down over the land like a luxurious curtain.

Link reined his horse before the drawbridge and gazed through the gate at the town inside: cobbled streets and glass-windowed shops, a bubbling, cheerful fountain in the middle of the square, lanterns being lit along the streets, small dogs skittering between people's legs, the smell of food and fireplaces, the sound of laughter and music, and the white spires of the castle standing sentry over it all. Link's heart suddenly ached and his eyes began to gleam.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Navi asked quietly, hovering beside his shoulder. "Is something the matter?"

"I don't know," Link said, blinking. Two tears skidded unexpectedly down his cheeks. "I've never been inside the castle walls before. Bazlo and I, we never had a reason to come, we weren't contracted with any of the merchants here . . . But I feel as if I know this place. I know . . ." His gaze suddenly focused inward, his eyes narrowing in concentration. "On the first side street to the left there's a farrier, and next door there's the blacksmith's booth. I had a sword re-forged there. And to the right is the confectionary where I first tasted chocolate . . ."

Black spots began to bloom in Link's field of vision, and when he snapped out of his trance, the headache he had been dreading all day came roaring into his skull with the fury of an erupting volcano. He let out a groan and bowed in the saddle, his forehead touching the horse's mane.

Navi, white with shock, flew down to him. "Link! How are you doing this? You shouldn't be remembering! Are you hurt? Is it your head again? Oh-!" She darted over to the reins and jerked them up and over the horse's head. She pulled, leading the animal over the drawbridge. He went easily enough—thank goodness. Navi didn't know what she would have done if he had been stubborn.

She steered the horse into the center of town and then tugged rightward. A few people in the streets turned their heads at the odd sight, but most of the townsfolk were too busy attending to their own affairs to take notice of them.

"Don't worry, Link," Navi puffed. "The Temple isn't far. Just a few more minutes, then we'll get you some help."

It took a few minutes of coaxing to get the horse up the three steps leading to the courtyard of the Temple of Time, but the troublesome beast finally relented and brought them to the middle of the grassy lawn. The stars were out now, twinkling down at them from their dark, lofty realm. Navi flew to Link and pulled at his sleeve urgently.

"Can you get down? I don't think I can move you myself. Link?"

Slowly Link raised his head. He was grimacing in pain. Beads of sweat stood out on his brow. "I can move. I think." He set his jaw and grasped a fistful of the horse's mane, then drew his right leg over the saddle. He hung there for a moment, eyes closed and cheeks flushed red, before finally sliding off. His left boot hung in the stirrup momentarily, but he managed to shake it loose and touch ground with both feet. It was the wave of vertigo that sent him thumping to his knees.

"Link!" cried Navi, streaking down to his side. "Are you alright?"

For a few long moments he remained where he had fallen, head bowed and body hunched, clenching the grass in his fingers. "I haven't been alright for weeks," he said in a rough, strained voice. "My head feels like it weighs a thousand pounds. What is happening to me?"

"You're breaking free," came a voice from behind.

Slowly Link raised his eyes toward the Temple of Time. In the doorway stood a short, solid-looking old man in a long brown robe.

"Sage Rauru!" Navi exclaimed. "Thank goodness you're here! Do you think you can help him?"

"I'm certain I can," said the old man, hurrying across the yard. He peered down at Link in such a wide-eyed, inquisitive way that Link suddenly recalled the day he had left Kokiri, and the nosy owl that had accosted him at the forest's edge. What was his name? Corporal . . . no. Capeoral—

"Kaepora," Link corrected his own thought, and Sage Rauru's eyes widened in his round face.

"Breaking free indeed," he said, reaching down and grasping Link's arm. "I don't know how you've managed to do it, my lad, overpowering the binding spell, but you've always been an extraordinary one. Come now, let's get you inside."

"But the owl," Link said as he was lifted up. "He's a man, too. He can fly. His feathers are the pages of all books. He holds a candle called Knowledge . . . to light the dark places of the world . . ."

"He's raving," Navi fretted. "Oh, Rauru, do something!"

"Calm yourself. He may be delirious, but he's not dying. Now listen, Navi, I need you to go and fetch the Princess. Tell her that the Hero has come and we will commence the restoration as soon as she arrives. Quickly now!"

Navi shot away like a speeding blue arrow and disappeared into the night.

Rauru pulled Link's arm around his shoulders and grasped his belt in his other hand. "Steady, my boy. Lean on me and get your feet under yourself."

Link began to walk with him, his face twisted in agony. "There's a black storm in my head, Kaepora. Shadows. Shards," he croaked. "I broke and left myself behind in there, down in the deep. I have to go back . . . into the water . . ."

Rauru's skin prickled warningly. "That's enough now," he whispered. "Save your breath and keep walking."

Link heaved a sigh as heavy as seven years, and waded into the storm.

Since the discovery of the bleeding painting in her father's study, Zelda had closed off the entire east wing and taken to sleeping in the library—not entirely by coincidence. The library was her favorite room in the whole castle, full of pleasant memories and childhood books that were as dear to her as old friends, if she had had any of those. Many of those books had been pulled from the shelves, dusted off, reread, and stacked about the dark blue velvet chaise that Zelda now called her bed, though she seldom slept anymore. Her dreams were too dark and troubled to allow her much rest. Instead she passed the long hours of night reading by lamplight, taking her mind away on happy, familiar adventures and escaping the sickening stress of reality. She knew it was childish, hedging herself in with these beloved books as if they were protective talismans, but it kept her together. It was difficult enough to act calm when one's worst nightmare had come true, but having to wait in the meantime was enough to drive a person mad. Zelda had decided that going back to her childhood was a healthier alternative than going insane, and that was where Mortemus found her this evening: curled up on the chaise in her nightclothes and dressing gown, her tiara absent and her hair gathered into a fraying two-day-old braid. She had formed a nest out of blankets and pillows, and on the floor beside her lay a tray with an empty goblet, naked stems from a cluster of grapes, and dirty plate—the remains of lunch.

She stopped chewing her thumbnail and looked up when the Counselor entered, carrying a tray in his unsteady hands. "Uncle Mortemus," she said, smiling weakly and closing her book. The circles under her eyes stood out like bruises.

"Good evening, Princess," said the Chief Practician of Magic, hazarding his way through the tangle of pillows and books. He bent down stiffly and placed the tray on the foot of the chaise. "I thought you could do with a bit of my special herb tea. It will soothe your nerves and help you sleep."

"That's very kind of you, Mortemus. Thank you."

"My pleasure, dear. No, please, let me pour it for you. I'm not completely invalid yet. You just make yourself comfortable."

Zelda watched as the old man struggled to wrap his arthritic fingers around the teapot's handle. He poured the tea as steadily as his palsied hands would permit, inadvertently splashing a little onto the blankets; he either didn't notice or pretended to ignore it.

"You know, I used to make this tea for your father when he couldn't sleep," he said as he passed the dripping cup to Zelda's hands. "I don't make it very often anymore—some of the roots are getting hard to find—but it would always set his mind at ease. I thought perhaps it might do the same for you. Don't laugh, child. I know a cup of tea won't solve the world's problems, but it will certainly mend the spirits of those in charge of it. Of course, I've always maintained that if magic or tea couldn't solve your problem, then you didn't have a problem at all." He sat down at Zelda's feet with a tired grunt.

"Have there been any reports of anomalies in the kingdom?" she asked, blowing the steam from her cup. "I've been afraid to ask."

"No incidents yet; but you shouldn't worry yourself about that now," Mortemus admonished gently, patting her ankle. "The Council will handle any issues that arise."

"Yes, but can you handle Orendal? He can be rather forward, if you know what I mean."

"Oh, I'm not afraid of our plump little windbag. If he's not bellowing about one thing or another, he feels he's not doing his job. As such, I shall continue to be the voice of reason at the meetings until you feel ready to join us again."

"Thank you, Uncle. Sometimes I wonder what I would do without you."

Mortemus's broad, drooping mouth tried to form a reassuring smile. "Oh, you'd get along well enough, I wager. You're very much like your father, you know. Tenacious and a trifle headstrong, but that can be a good trait in royalty." He absently fingered the amulet that hung against his chest, something he did whenever he was reminiscing about the past. "Zurden was . . . uncompromising. Once he had his heart set on something, he would see it through to the end. Or he would try. That poor heart of his. He wore it completely out, between his love for you and his love of the kingdom. I'm amazed he lasted as long as he did. Souls as passionate as his are things which mortal flesh can only hold to this world for so long.

"Of course, a hardy spirit seems to run in your family. You grandfather, for instance . . ."

Zelda sipped her tea as she listened to Mortemus speak of the shining character of her ancestors. For all his liver spots and sagging skin, his memory still seemed diamond sharp. His eyes sparkled with an energy that had abandoned rest of his ancient body. His posture was hunched, his swollen joints snapped and creaked with every move he made, and his large nose—at one time probably quite handsome—now seemed to droop toward his chin. Zelda wondered how old the man really was. Surely a hundred or very close to it. He couldn't have more than a few years left to him, she thought, looking at the thinning nap of gray hair on his head. She would miss him terribly when he passed. So much wisdom underneath that creased brow, so many memories and lessons that would be buried with him . . .

Mortemus continued his leisurely monologue and Zelda's eyelids began to grow heavy. He was such a good, sweet old man, Uncle Mortemus. How was she ever going to get along without him? His wisdom and guidance were treasures beyond price. When she needed his counsel, he was always there to offer it. He never judged or patronized her. When she struggled with the unpleasant tasks of ruling a country, he offered her suggestions and helped her find the best solution. Always he was thinking of the good of the kingdom, of preserving the integrity of the royal family. What a crime it would be to allow death to extinguish such a wonderful, loyal individual. Only the Triforce would have the power to extend this dear man's life. Perhaps she should offer it to him—surely there was nothing to worry about. There wasn't a more qualified soul in the world to handle the Triforce. Think of the good that Mortemus could do with it, what blessings his wisdom could unlock—

The sound of a windowpane shattering jerked Zelda from the depths of her dreamy state, and she sat up in alarm as a bright blue light came streaking into the room. It was Navi.

"He's here!" the fairy shouted. "Link is here!"

Zelda scrambled to her feet, her drowsiness suddenly gone. "What?"

Mortemus sprang up astoundingly fast for a man of his years. "Here, what's the meaning of this? You can't just burst in like that, breaking windows and upsetting—"

"Link just arrived!" Navi repeated, bobbing frantically in front of Zelda's face. "He's at the Temple of Time, but he's in really bad shape—"

"Bad? What do you mean? Is he hurt?"

"No, but Rauru said he was starting to break the binding spell, and you know how powerful that was! He's begun to remember things he knew only from the Quest, but until the spell is lifted, those memories are just spilling out at random and bouncing around in his head—he could lose his mind!"

"Damn that spell!" said Zelda, pawing through the blankets to find her other slipper. "I knew it was wrong to use magic to repress his memories. We should never have done that to him. Oh, why didn't I listen to Impa?"

"Rauru said he'll start the restoration process as soon as you're there—"

"No! Tell him to go ahead with it—Link's life may be in danger and every second counts. I'll be there as soon as I can. Go now, and thank you, Navi!"

"Right!" the fairy barked, and flew through the broken window pane and into the night.

Mortemus came forward and laid a soothing hand on Zelda's arm. "Surely you don't mean to rush out to the Temple at this hour? Sage Rauru can manage the Hero on his own. Here, sit back down and drink your tea, and we'll see about visiting Link in the morning, when he's likely to be more—"

Zelda pulled free of his grasp. "I want to be there, Counselor. I'm partly responsible for that binding spell, and if anything happens to Link—"

"Nothing will happen to him. Rauru will undo the spell and he will be perfectly fine by morning. You're allowing your fear to overpower you, to send you running through the dark like a frightened rabbit." Mortemus smiled indulgently, like a mother would smile at the irrational tantrums of her idiot child. "Besides, the hour is late. It's unbecoming for royalty to be seen at such a time, especially a princess. Your father would—"

"My father would understand," Zelda snapped, tying the belt of her dressing gown. "There are more important things in the world right now than my subjects seeing me in my nightie."

"Now, your Highness, don't be—"

"You heard me, Counselor," she said sternly, her demeanor suddenly regal and powerful. "Summon the members of the Royal Council and lead the proceedings in my absence. Rauru and I will join you once Link's memory has been restored."

Mortemus, his placations silenced by Zelda's queenly orders, bowed his head. "At once, your Highness."

Zelda gave him a smile of thanks, then turned and vanished through the doors. Her voice echoed through the halls as she called for someone to fetch the stable boy.

Alone in the darkened library, Mortemus lowered himself onto the velvet chaise, his face serene, though his eyes smoldered with resentment. With a swipe of his arm he sent the forgotten teapot and cup crashing to the floor. Warm liquid spilled over books and blankets, staining the icons of comfort with black, violent spatters.

There was a narrow, well-worn track that encircled the perimeter of Hyrule Castle, winding through dell and dale, a single ribbon of brown dirt amidst a sea of grass. It was used almost exclusively by soldiers and knights who lived in the barracks during their years of early training, though the civilian would find it an ideal place for a summer hike or picnic. On the eve of every new year, the lawn filled with spectators eager to watch the royal fireworks show. But the sky was dark and the track empty at this hour, save for a lone figure on horseback, traveling toward town at an ambling gait.

This was typically the way Ilya ended his day—astride Rijou, meditating and reflecting, calming his mind while putting a few more miles under the colt's hooves. The training that afternoon hadn't been particularly difficult, but he had sensed Impa's frustration at his lack of progress. Simply trying harder wasn't enough anymore; the tactics that most Sheikah children needed for mastery of certain skills in adulthood were being lost on Ilya, who aged faster than any shenseh could teach. Impa did her best to see that he at least knew the fundamentals of sheikato, but he would never know enough to be able to teach the generation that came after him—if there even was one. Irek, who had served the royal family before Ilya's mother had taken his place, had been forced into early retirement after he'd been blinded by a fire. He had died last winter and now lay in Kakariko Cemetery beside his wife and three children, two of whom had died in the womb, and the third who lived only a few weeks. Ilya was the last male Sheikah in Hyrule, as well as the youngest. The Sheikah race, rather like his own life, was doomed to end unnaturally early.

Gazing up at the stars twinkling over his head, Ilya wondered, not for the first time, which of his parents was responsible for passing off this terrible affliction on him.

A bright blue comet suddenly streaked across the sky, surprising him. Only it wasn't a comet—they never left sparkles in their wake, nor did they appear so large and brilliant. It was a fairy.

Ilya drew his horse to a halt. What on earth was a fairy doing out here? Why did it appear to be flying right into town? Hadn't Impa mentioned something about the Royal Council requesting the aid of Link's fairy companion? Could that be . . .

Ilya pressed his heels into Rijou's side and the black colt sprang forward, following the fairy's fading trail.

The world churned around Link in shades of gray and dark blue. Through the shifting curtain of shadow and mist, three bright jewels glowed like a beacon, drawing Link toward them like a ship to a lighthouse. He had nearly reached them when suddenly a young boy with a slingshot and a wooden shield darted out of the ether and ran past him. Link reached out to stop the child and ask him who he was, but the boy ran on without looking back. A flurry of dark shapes followed him, whirling through the air. Keese.

Link shook off the hideous brown corpse clinging to him and staggered forward, calling for the boy to watch out—there was so little of his life left. One strike would finish him. If only he weren't wearing these iron boots! What use did he have for them here? He bent down and wrestled them off, then moved clumsily across the tile floor in his socks.

Rauru, who saw none of these hallucinations, stood beside the three Spiritual Stones and watched the Hero of Time lurch and flail and beat the empty air about his head. The old Sage had witnessed many disturbing things in his long life, but this was truly difficult to behold. He had not foreseen such disastrous possibilities when he and Zelda had performed the spell which, under the auspices of mercy, had suppressed the memories of the Hero's dark and difficult quest and sealed them with the Sword. Now he wondered if they hadn't caused more pain and anguish than if they'd simply let him be. Link surely wouldn't last much longer in this state. Either he would faint and be spared from further damage, at least until he later awoke, or his brain would seize under the pressure of trying to process two different lives at the same time and he would die. Rauru couldn't let that happen.

Link collapsed onto the floor and the Sage hurried to his side. He expected Link to recoil, but the fall seemed to have momentarily cleared his head. He looked up at Rauru, his eyes shining out of his pallid face like torches of blue fire.

"Is he dead, Kaepora? Did the keese get him?"

"There are no keese here, my boy. There never have been. What you saw was a very vivid memory, completely harmless. We can remedy that for you, but you'll need to come with me. Take my hand and we'll—"

"No!" cried Link, scrambling backward. "Go away! Leave me alone!"

Rauru rose to his feet with a groan just as Navi came sailing in through one of the upper windows. She flew down and swirled around the Sage's sweaty red face. "Zelda said to go ahead and lift the spell," she announced. "She'll be here as soon as possible. It will probably take longer to lift it alone, but—"

"Yes," said Rauru, "I'd already decided to do that. However, it appears that our Hero has become irrational, and he's far too fast for an old man like me. We need to get him to the Sword Chamber, Navi. I don't suppose you could coax him, could you?"

"I'll try. Link! Hey! Don't be afraid, it's me, Navi."

Link, who had risen to his feet and was backing his way toward the temple door, swiped his arm at her. "Get away! You've done nothing but cause me pain ever since we met. Why couldn't you have come to me in Kokiri? Where were you when I was the only one without a fairy?"

Navi's blue aura went purple with dismay. "Oh, Link, don't say that—I was with you! Remember my promise? That by the end of this day you'd remember everything you've forgotten? This pain and confusion you're feeling, Sage Rauru can make it all stop. He's not going to hurt you, Link, he wants to help you!"

"He can't help me," said Link, now just a few paces from the door. "And neither can you. I'm broken. Something in me is . . . is missing. And it's not in this place, it's out there, out in the dark. I need to go find it."

"Link, if you go out that door you're going to die!"

"We're all going to die, Navi. It's just a matter of time."

From the shadows beside the door came a voice: "Strange, I was pondering that very subject a few minutes ago."

Link whirled around and Ilya stepped into the light, his cowl pulled down to reveal his face. He held his hands up in a peaceful gesture. "Easy, Link," he said coolly. "Remember me? I'm the Sheikah you met in Kakariko."

Link looked perplexed to the point of insanity. "Kakari . . . y-you're Zelda?"

Ilya smiled vaguely. "No, though you once knew me as her Highness. My n—"

"What? That can't be. You don't—the Sheikah . . ."

Before Navi knew what was happening, Ilya had darted forward and caught Link as his knees buckled. With effortless fluidity, he ducked down and pulled the groaning Hylian across his shoulders, then began to carry him toward Rauru.

Navi buzzed over Link like a frantic mosquito. "He's bleeding! Oh, Sheik, hurry, get him to the Sword room!"

"That's what I'm doing. And my name is Ilya. Sheik is what you called me when Zelda was in my body."

"I'm sorry. Ilya—"

"For heaven's sakes, who cares about names at a time like this?" Rauru exclaimed. "Just get him in before he loses consciousness!"

At the foot of the Pedestal of Time, Ilya kneeled down and carefully laid Link on the floor. A line of bright red blood had begun to trickle from one of his nostrils, and his eyes had taken on the glassy dullness of a man preparing to depart the world of the living.

"Whatever you need to do, I suggest you do it quickly, Sage," muttered Ilya. "He's fading."

"I know, lad. Move aside and let—"

Link reached out and grasped the Sheikah's wrist. "Don't. Don't leave . . ."

Shifting his position to accommodate Rauru, Ilya grasped Link's hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "I'm right here," he said, and suddenly felt that, in contrast to his earlier notions, he and Link would get along just fine. "Stay with us."

Rauru placed his hand on Link's forehead and began to murmur a bizarre series of words in a steady, monotonous tone: "Os ti rewop ruoy yb dna, dlog sesseddog, sdrow ruo raeh . . ."

"What's he saying, Navi?" Ilya whispered.

"It's a reversal of the incantation they used to restrain Link's memories," said Navi, perching on the Sheikah's shoulder. "I think it goes: Seven years of flowing time, to this Master sword we bind. All memory of noble Quest, in quiet shadow we suppress. Dwell no more upon this day, but let it slowly fade away. Hear our words, Goddesses gold, and by your power make it so. It's very difficult to get just right, especially backwards."

"Then I guess we should shut up and let him concentrate, shouldn't we?"

"Yes, that would probably be wise."

While the Sage of Light continued his slow and deliberate recitation, Navi and Ilya could see the tension leave Link's face, his tortured expression gradually settling into one of placid neutrality. And when Rauru finished the last verse and lifted his hand, Link's eyes blinked sleepily open.

"Sage Rauru? What . . . Where am I?"

"In a much better state than you were a few moments ago, my lad. But you're still not out of the woods yet; come, sit up. You may no longer be fighting against a rush of disconnected memories, but as yet they have no substance to which they can bind themselves; you need to draw the Master Sword—it will set everything in its proper place."

Ilya and Rauru each took and arm and pulled the groggy Link to his feet. "I'm so tired," he mumbled. "Can I go to sleep after this?"

"Lad, you can go to the moon after this if you like. Just pull the Sword from the stone. You've got seven extra years of unmoored memories floating around in your brain, and we need to get them anchored quickly."

Link nodded dully and stepped toward the pedestal. Despite the dimness of the chamber, the Master Sword gleamed where it stood, its blade as clean and sharp as if it had just been forged. Link reached out and wrapped both hands around the violet-colored hilt. Suddenly he could recall how he felt as a boy, grasping this sword for the first time with his small, unskilled hands. It had been so heavy to him then. But that was impossible. The only sword he'd ever touched was a short, dull thing that Bazlo let him practice with. He hadn't been a child then. There were no swords like this in Kokiri.

"What is going on?" Link whispered, his eyes filling with anguished tears. "Are these memories mine? Who am I? What am I?"

"You are the Hero of Time," said Navi, flying close to his ear. "Draw the Sword and you'll understand."

Rauru looked over at Ilya. "You should probably move back, young man."

Ilya took a generous step backward.

Link closed his eyes and drew in a breath. His head felt so full, his body heavy with exhaustion. Just one more time, he told himself. One last time.

Summoning his remaining strength, he pulled the Master Sword from its stand. It lifted easily, grating against the stone until the blade was completely free. A vacuum of silence sucked all sound from the room and a multicolored aurora engulfed him. The heaviness left his body and he became as weightless as a feather. He raised the sword above his head, and the pressure that had been squeezing his skull for the past hour abruptly diminished. His mind, once a hurricane of disorder, grew still. Memories began to fall into place, slowly at first, then rapidly in succession:

A fairy friend. The Great Deku. Spiders and shadows. The Kokiri Emerald. Leaving the Forest. Princess Zelda. Ganondorf. A blue ocarina. The Zoras. A windmill. Fire and dragons. Music, music everywhere, the sound of every song in the world being played at once. Height, strength, power, magic, horses, hookshots, arrows, deserts, mountains, lakes—seven years revealed, and each day belonging to Link.

The three spectators stared transfixed at the blazing, sparkling nebula before them. Ilya was so engrossed in the magical event that he wasn't aware of the new presence until it was already within striking distance. He turned suddenly, knife in hand, but balked at the sight of Princess Zelda. She too was entranced by the light; it cast harsh shadows on her face and made her appear older than her years.

Ilya sheathed his blade. He should apologize for drawing arms on royalty, but he was embarrassed at being caught unaware and slightly annoyed by the Princess's unexpected appearance—she had no business being here, especially in her state. She looked as if she had just rolled out of her sickbed. He drew his breath to speak, but the words died in his throat when her gentle, searching hand found his arm. He examined her face more closely and saw that she was simultaneously overjoyed and terrified. Tears shimmered in her eyes and her lips quivered as she smiled faintly. She looked like a beautiful, tortured ghost.

Sympathetically, Ilya put his arm around her and pulled up the shoulder of her dressing gown from where it had slipped down. Zelda didn't notice the gesture, but she found the Sheikah's other hand and grasped it tightly, her unblinking eyes fixed upon the blazing column of light.

Abruptly the light faded and the chamber was plunged into shadow once more. Ilya's eyes adjusted to the dark more quickly than the others' and he beheld Link standing before the pedestal, as motionless as the stone itself. No one in the room breathed. Zelda began to tremble, and her nails inadvertently dug into the back of the Sheikah's hand.

Everyone started when the sword that Link held suddenly clattered the floor. Zelda let out a cry and flew up the dais stairs as Link began to topple. She managed to catch him about the shoulders, and though she was strong for her size, she was both outweighed and overtaxed; they fell to the floor in a clumsy tangle. A hot knife of pain sliced into her knee as it twisted unnaturally, but it was the placement of her leg which kept Link's head from colliding with the stone tile. She gritted her teeth and tears filled her eyes, but it wasn't until she looked down at his face that she burst into tears.

Link's face was smooth, tranquil, and completely devoid of life.

Ilya and Rauru rushed up the steps and crouched down. Navi whirled from one person to the next as they all began to talk over one other. Zelda was sobbing hysterically.

"He's dead! Gods and grace, he's dead!"

"Check him, Ilya."

"I already have—he's alive. He's just unconsc—"

"No, no, he's dead! Just look at him! He's not breathing! Oh, loving Nayru, the blood—just look at the blood!"

Rauru and Ilya met eyes briefly, sharing an unspoken communication. The Sheikah nodded his assent and went to remove Link's limp body from where it was pinning Zelda down, but she grasped onto Link's tunic and refused to let go.

"Don't take him away from me yet! Please, let me have just a few moments—"

"Princess, you are not well," said Rauru, gently prying her clutching hands free. "Come now, you need to rest."

"How can I rest!" she wailed. "Link is dead! I will never sleep again!"

The Sage heaved a weary sigh and massaged his brow. Navi flew to his shoulder. "What can I do?" she asked softly.

"Fetch the healer," he said after a moment. "Not Mortemus, but the royal doctor. Bring him here. I'll have the Sheikah tend to Link until he wakes. Quickly now."

Navi shot away on her errand. Rauru turned his eyes once more on Princess Zelda, who was weeping bitter tears onto Link's moving, breathing chest.

"I hope you can save us, lad," he muttered. "Before this whole kingdom goes insane."

A/N: I won't be updating this story on FFN any longer, but on my personal writing archive only. You will find link posted in my bio. Thanks!