A/N
Note that this was written well before Tears of the Kingdom was released - just a case of me having fun with one of the trailers.
Tears of the Sky
"This is but one of the legends of which the people speak. That when it rains, it is the goddesses weeping."
As he climbed through the ruins amongst the clouds, Link didn't know why Zelda's voice echoed in his mind.
"It is said that when Din carved the mountains and dug the valleys, when she sculpted the world with her own hands, she stood back and wept. For despite all her power, she could not bring life or love to the land."
Link wondered if the Goddess of Power had sculpted these ruins as well – an entire kingdom, far above Hyrule, struck down by time's sword. Probably not, as the structures had been carved by mortal hands, but one couldn't be sure.
"Din wept, for her hands were bloodied, and her world was barren. Farore offered comfort, telling her sister that soon, life would know and love what she had created. Nayru, however, bid Farore stay her hand, for in her wisdom, she knew what had to be done."
'What had to be done.' Link knew full well what had to be done. Stop the Calamity from re-emerging. Search the Kingdom of the Sky for a means to stop him. Repeat a task that, according to Zelda, had repeated itself across time, across lands, across entire realities, before all re-converged back into one.
"Nayru and Farore watched as their sister wept. Tears streamed down Farore's face, but her tears were as wind, and faded into the air. Nayru, however, smiled, as she saw her sister's work take final form. As the oceans themselves took shape, as rivers flowed all the sweeter upon the land."
Gritting his teeth, Link used his hookshot to get from one piece of floating ruins to another. Well aware that if he fell, nothing would stop him from being reduced to mincemeat upon the fall.
"Din wept for a hundred days and night. Wept, until at last, on the hundred-and-first day, her tears ceased, and she beheld what she had created. Smiled in joy, as she saw the shape of land and sea – sisters to each other."
It was raining, Link noticed, as he climbed a piece of rock that was a mixture of natural landform and old ruin. The clouds were below him, and he could see thunder and lightning warring as they always had. Perhaps, he thought, Zelda was wrong – perhaps rain was but the grief of clouds that never knew long-lasting peace.
"Farore hugged her sister. Nayru, however, took to the sky, and formed the law that would govern the land. Din's tears would be repeated a thousand times a thousand more. The moon would rise, the sun would set, the sun would shine, the rain would hide its face. And for an eternity, these laws held true."
Link took a sip from his flask, as he toyed with the idea of descending into the clouds to refill it. The air was thin up here, and he had no delusions as to his ability to find more water.
"But there is another story as to why the goddesses weep."
He wondered what Zelda was doing. Rebuilding, he supposed. Re-ruling. Re-establishing a system of law and order that no-one in Hyrule had ever known.
"There was a time when the man who would become Calamity emerged from the depths of the earth. When there was neither man nor child to stay his wrath."
He missed her, he noted. Or, rather, he felt like he ought to miss her. That there was a different 'him' lurking beneath his skin, and that his brain was just directing this body like a puppet. As if he had been born twice.
"The goddesses wept, all three of them. They wept, and the waters rose. They wept, and in their cries of anguish, did not hear nor heed the wails of those below them. They wept, and the laws of the world itself were changed. As life changed with them. Wept, and after a hundred days and nights, much of the world was ocean."
He got to his feet, as he tried to push thoughts of Zelda and goddesses out of his head. Creation myths were all well and good, but they were just that – myths. Golden goddesses hadn't formed the world, nor had they drowned it.
"After a hundred days and nights, the rain stopped, and the goddesses looked down upon what they'd wrought."
Or, Link supposed, if there were gods and goddesses and spirits and who knew what else, they hadn't done a good job with the world. Hyrule lay in ruins. All he'd saved by slaying the Calamity was preventing everything from being lost, rather than just most of it.
"From that day, until the end of days, the goddesses would weep in shame. The people would see the rain, and know the guilt of what their creators had done."
He shook his head and studied the land. He didn't want to think about tears. If he did, he thought of Zelda. When in another life, he'd held her in the rain…
"Yet at times, the goddesses would wail and rage. At each other. At the world itself, and the malignancy that had sullied their creation. They would unleash storms upon the world, and the people would know their wrath."
He didn't want to think about Zelda. He didn't want to think about anything. People were a distraction. If it was his lot to live, die, and be reborn, all in the service of the world, then his own desires were meaningless.
"Din would weep for the marring of her world. Nayru, the breaking of her laws. But none wept as hard as Farore, as she grieved the loss of her children. Of those who had fallen to her tears."
He clutched his sword. Something was approaching him.
"For what sorrow is greater than a mother's anguish?"
It was a red bird of some kind – larger than any he had ever seen. As tall as a human. Did it call this land home? Was it a raptor, or something more benign?
"So even now, with the merging of three roads of time into one, their grief remains."
It landed a good ten feet before him, and on instinct, Link drew shield and sword. Both were of good iron, and would not break or bend.
"Thus is the saga of the Tears of the Kingdom," Zelda had said.
The bird with crimson feather stared at him, like…well, not a bird, Link supposed. Birds had stared at him before, especially buzzards who'd smelt blood and dared hope that he'd succumb to his wounds. This one's eyes belied its intelligence. Its soul, if such a thing existed.
"Any questions?" Zelda had asked.
He couldn't even remember when she'd told him the tale. His first life? His second? Had he even answered, or were his lips forever sealed?
The bird gave no answer. It just approached him, its every stride conveying grace that Link knew was beyond him.
"Hey! Are you even listening?"
He tried to shake the memories away as the creature lay down before him, like a horse might its master. There was neither saddle nor harness, so why a creature would offer itself as stead was beyond him.
"Link?"
Yet he had no doubt it wanted him to ride it. And while creatures foul outnumbered those that were fair, there was a sense of…familiarity, Link supposed, as he mounted the avian. As if he had taken hold of these feathers before.
But then, what was memory but like the rain? Visible for moments, before fading into the wider seas of time?
The bird took flight, providing him no answer.
The ruins were changing, Link noticed.
He guided the bird not, as it continued to fly in-between the floating rock and marble. For a long while, they had looked the same – ruins of some long-lost civilization, clearly more advanced than anything on the surface world.
But these were different. They were a city unto themselves within the clouds. Different from the ruins he had passed – pure white instead of black and green. The iconography of a woman who reminded him of Zelda herself was present, her gaze sorrowful, her figure intact despite time's passage. And beyond it all, a village. One still intact, after all these years.
He knew, somehow, that it had been like this for a long time. And a chill ran through his bones as the bird landed within the ghost village. Looked at him with unblinking eyes.
No words escaped its beak. But its eyes conjured words in Link's mind, uttered by Zelda. In this life, not another one, he knew that much. Words she had spoken offhand, before he set off for the sky.
"Go, Link. The last shall meet the first."
He had no idea what she'd meant, but knew better than to question her. With silent bow, he had departed, and paid her words little heed. Words were but wind in the face of the evil the world faced. He could say every word in every language, and none of them would render Calamity bound.
But words, he knew, had been spoken in this place. People had lived here – loved and hated, lived and died, walked and flown, cried and cheered. The dwellings were of human make, and were human sized. Wheels, grindstones, carts, even, immaculately preserved. For beings who had made the sky their home, they had obviously been…normal, he supposed.
He looked back at the bird. It looked back at him. Reminded the former knight that "normal" had been lost to the world like so many other things.
Thunder rumbled down below. Perhaps the goddesses were trying to start things over, he supposed. Not that he could blame them. The cycle Zelda had spoken itself had repeated itself over and over, and what had it accomplished? Death and ruination for all. One day, he, or another who followed him, would die, and there would be no returning.
Perhaps he was fated to die, he thought, as he approached one of the buildings. By all rights, he should have been dead a hundred times over. If he died now, his only regret would be…well, that didn't matter.
He took the door knob and winced. What was he even doing here, he wondered? Calamity grew more powerful by the day, and he was doing…what, exactly? Sightseeing ancient ruins in a world with no shortage of ruins, most of which were useless in any practical application? Why was he up here, above the world, when those he loved could be dying right now?
He shook his head and opened the door. Those he loved…that was a line of thinking he could ill afford.
And yet here you are.
His inner voice was unwelcome and swiftly banished. But here, in this place, in this dwelling like every other building in this goddess-forsaken piece of flotsam…
I've been here.
The thought was insane, and yet it remained within his mind. A chair. A table. Swords mounted on the wall. There was nothing to suggest anything about the man (or woman) who'd lived here, only that they were skilled with a blade, and that was it. And yet…
"The last shall meet the first."
He'd been here. Lived here. Not him, as he understood himself, but him all the same.
Where he'd lived. Where he'd slept. Where…
Holding his breath to prevent panic, he exited the dwelling, and let out a cry as he found the bird waiting for him.
A bird that he, yet not he, had ridden.
Bird not dissimilar to one Zelda, yet not Zelda, had ridden alongside him.
A beast of the air, of different time, of different place. Of younger and happier world, not as burdened by the weight of time or the sting of sorrow. Which had yet to be bound in the chains named Infinitude.
"Is this why you brought me here?" Link whispered, his own words alien to his ears. "Did you bring me home?"
The creature lowered its head, in…what, he wondered? Sorrow? Reverence?
"Was the first here?" He asked.
The bird had no answer.
"Am I the last?"
The bird had no answer.
"Will I die second and final death, or shall I go on? Is Calamity forever unbound, or can it be chained once more?"
The bird had no answer.
"Can all the tears of all the clouds of every sky achieve what I cannot?"
The bird looked at him. And Link realized that he was, indeed, talking to an overgrown buzzard who probably had no idea what was even going on.
It probably had no idea why he collapsed then and there.
It was probably perplexed as to why the former knight of Hyrule began to weep.
It definitely had no idea about the hand twisting the man's heart, as memory unbound tainted his mind, and sullied his soul. Of those who had come before, all stemming from the man, nay, boy, who had called this place home.
Yet despite all that, it remained, until the man got to his feet once more. As he extended his hand to the creature.
"You have let me ride you. Will you carry me again?"
The bird had no answer.
"Will you take me through the sky?"
The bird, in silence, let the man mount it. And in silence, took him to wing.
It did not see its rider look down upon the clouds below.
Did not see him smile, as they were no longer weeping.