Link stumbled as he ran and tightened his grip on Zelda's hand. He couldn't let go, he had to get her to safety. Fort Hateno was minutes away, they could make it.

He wasn't convinced it would make a difference when it came to his own survival, but Zelda would be safe, or at least as safe as she could be, behind the last line of defense, able to evacuate towards the coast, away from the Guardians ravaging Hyrule, away from Ganon.

As for himself... he'd been injured often enough to know he had several injuries that were worse than anything he'd had before. He was reasonably certain that one of his legs was broken, along with a few ribs and his right hand. His head was also swimming since a Moblin had managed to club him on the back of it, and he was losing blood fast from three severe cuts.

He was also utterly exhausted. The Master Sword on his back was an almost unbearable weight, his legs felt like lead, making each step an effort of will, and his arms felt like water. He was no stranger to doing sword drills until his arms felt like they were about to fall off, and right now, they felt weaker than they ever had. Even his thinking was sluggish, it felt like a devious puzzle every time they had to change direction to go around an obstacle.

Zelda was in no better condition. He'd managed to protect her from injuries, but she was just as tired as he was, without any of the training that was allowing him to sort of push through it. She was trying to run but she was stumbling worse than he was, her legs refusing to move as fast as his. And mentally, she was far worse than he was: she blamed herself for everything, somehow translating her inability to access the Golden Power of Hyrule's Royal Family into the sole reason for Ganon being able to seize control of the Divine Beasts and the Guardians. To her mind, this meant she was responsible for the deaths of their friends, her father, and countless others.

She'd completely broken down a few minutes earlier, and try as he might, Link had been unable to make her see she was not at fault. She had got herself back under control quickly enough, but not from any change in her feelings or state of mind: she was simply, by her own admission, refusing to slow him down as he got to safety.

Link hadn't told her how badly he was hurt.

So they ran. The field was littered with broken guardians, some completely shut down and some damaged severely enough not to see them if Link and Zelda just gave them a wide enough berth.

Link was managing more speed than Zelda and was therefore ahead, pulling her along. Perhaps he was wrong. Maybe his exhaustion made his injuries feel worse than they were. If they reached the fort, maybe they would both be okay, and maybe...

The fantasy was not to be. Behind the nearest pile of ruins and broken guardians, the field suddenly changed from the ruins of a battleground to an active war zone: active guardians were everywhere, and it didn't take long for one of them to spot Link and Zelda.

Link knew there was no way he hadn't heard them before seeing them. The noise was omnipresent and unmistakable. His brains had just not put two and two together, either because he was too tired to think or because deep down, he hadn't wanted to know ahead of time that there really was no hope.

He placed himself between the Guardian and Zelda, shield ready. He'd done this before several times, he just needed to do it again. The Guardian's beam could be bounced right back to sender, and it would deal enough damage to slow the Ancient killer down or if Link was very lucky, disable it altogether.

All he needed to do was to time his parry just right.

The Guardian fired. Link's arm refused to move fast enough, and rather than bouncing off, the Guardian's beam went right through Link's shield, shattering it. The shield blocked enough of it for what was left of the beam's force not to be lethal, but it still hit Link like a boulder, hurtling him to the ground with, Link suspected, a brand new set of burns, bruises and broken bones.

He staggered to his feet, one of legs buckled, and he staggered up again, taking out the Master Sword as he went. Legends told of the Master Sword being able to deflect magic, perhaps it would work on Ancient Technology as well.

Zelda was right behind him, entreating him to run, to leave her, to save himself. Link clenched his jaw: that was obviously not going to happen. If the last thing he could do was to buy her a few seconds to run, or to find another way to survive, that's what he was going to do. He could accept his own death, but hers? No. Absolutely not.

He raised his sword. The guardian's eye gleamed. Link braced himself. Since he hadn't been able to deflect with his shield, the odds he'd be able to deflect with the much smaller surface of the sword weren't great. It was still worth trying because if it worked, there was still a small chance Zelda could make it out of here alive.

The Guardian fired.

Behind Link, Zelda screamed. And then she was in front of him, hand outstretched in a 'stop!' gesture, and the world exploded into golden light. It was everywhere, it drowned everything in both light and sound – a musical hum that put an end to the Guardians' noise and the voices in the distance.

It faded away after a few seconds, and Link heard the result more than he saw it. Every Guardian on the field, shutting down.

He heard Zelda's voice from what seemed like very far away. He felt something hit him and dimly realized it was the ground.

She'd done it. Zelda had awakened her power, and she was safe. With access to this power, she was safe.

Zelda was suddenly right next to him, holding him up, talking. She still sounded like she was very far away, he couldn't make out her words. He tried to focus on them, but the world was slipping away fast. The immediate danger was gone, and his body was shutting down in response. Sleep, or death... he had no idea which one was claiming him but he couldn't stop it either way. He locked eyes with Zelda, opened his mouth so speak, to tell her he loved her, but the words never came out: everything faded to black.