This chapter is has been rewritten. Don't mind the typos as I work to fix the errors.
Chapter 6
Azrael Manor
The incident in the woods—the quietus which would have held his voice hostage had he been able to speak to begin with. It dominated his thoughts as he walked toward town.
The moonless sky laughed at him. The sparsely placed trees swagged in merriment at his expense. The dead breeze frolicked about before slipping past him, ashamed to even brush the face of such a quisling. Even the mysterious choir of anguished voices seemed to be singing a song of ridicule over his accedence.
No one should ever derive that much pleasure from the suffering of another.
"Need I bend you anymore on the swage block, sky child?" Ghirahim asked as he walked. "Must I further forge you on the anvil, tempering and refining you to beautifully broken perfection?"
Link didn't look up or speak. Instead, he observed his feet as they followed his captor. Rips and tears of various sizes on his clothes mingled among the spattering of bokoblin blood and stalhound bone dust. It littered his shirt with evidence of the day's violent mishaps. The gash on his cheek burned, mired by dirt from the forest floor. His wispy blond hair flung itself in every direction and clung to his temples. His fever, along with all of the pain that had become his constant companion, was gradually returning.
"Did you enjoy that little game as much as I am led to believe, sky child?" Ghirahim leaned his head over his shoulder. "My curiosity is piqued. Did you take pleasure from that which I so generously granted you?"
Feeling the heaviness of the demon lord's stare, Link didn't lift his gaze from the road.
"Oh, that's right. Some cunning individual must have hit your mute button," Ghirahim said, almost giggling. "Is that what my tongue swept against in the back of your throat? If so, I'm so sorry. Truth be told, I desired silence during the rest of our stroll. I hope you don't mind. It's only temporary, of course. But I must admit that your earlier reaction suggests that an apology on my part is superfluous."
Link stared blankly at the ground as he paced behind the demon. Earlier, he had considered the chain around his neck to be one of the most humiliating things he'd ever had to deal with. Now, he knew what humiliation truly was—
To walk at the demon lord's heels, free of all bonds, yet with a stronger desire to stay than to escape. Having already been made fun of for failing to run away twice, Link decided that it wasn't in his best interests to attempt a third escape. Who knew what could happen if he failed again?
"I suppose I will have to answer that question for you, then," Ghirahim sang, cheerfully spinning the Goddess Sword. "You did enjoy the learning process and your first venture outside of your range of competence—your foray, if you will. But which one excited you more? The jury is undoubtedly still out and deliberating, I must say."
Link gave a low sigh as he glanced to the side, as agitated by his inability to speak as he was by the glimmer of truth in the demon's teasing.
"You handled your heightened senses impressively well for a feeble human, if I may risk sounding as though I am pleased with something that you've done today."
Link kept pace with his captor. He tried to drown his negative thoughts in a sea of spirit-lifting memories of his best friends. He pictured the mild, aestival evening that he knew he was missing out on tonight. Colorful, bright illustrations of the carefree summer that should have been painted themselves in vivid frescoes on the walls of his mind. How did it come to this…?
He felt so ashamed for giving in to the demon. While he didn't submit easily, he still gave in. His irrefutable shortage of options did little to make him feel any less like a sellout. He could have forced his body, although greatly polluted with infirmities, to fight harder. Had he made the right decision to hand himself over, if only for a moment?
"Now that your appetite has been whetted, sky child, what will you choose to do? I believe you are rapidly approaching an impasse."
Link looked up with a glower. Ghirahim had been extremely clever and adept. Masterfully ingenious, in fact. He had chipped inconspicuously away at Link's rampart and squeezed through the meager opening like a fox. Link shook his head, angry at himself for allowing his enemy a foothold.
"When we were joined, hero, and your body waged war against your faltering mind, I noticed something." Link's ears, red-tipped and slumped in discomfiture perked up slightly. "While you were nearly consumed by sensation in its most profound sense—and don't claim that you were not—you did not yield."
Link didn't know what to think. Was everything that the demon was saying false? Could any of it be true?
The method in which the demon's power had been transmitted to him was horrible. Yet it was pleasant at the same time, as much as Link hated to admit it. After being so mistreated, even the hollow, feint touch of kindness from a demon was agreeable. He knew that the vituperative words and painful beatings had succeeded in covering him in a heavy pall of self-doubt. Anything that was not an insult or a blow was attractive, and the demon's offer had been just that. With his skin cut and stinging, his muscles aching from overwork and his ears nearly bleeding from indignities, even the idea of affection was tempting.
Tonight, Link felt like a candle, tragically burnt from both ends and left to melt into a puddle of pliable matter.
"Or did you, sky child?" Ghirahim asked, interrupting Link's thought. "Did you truly stand firm against what I gave you? Or did you surrender in the heat of the moment?" Link didn't look at him. "Do you even remember, hero?"
Link did not, and it left him disconcerted.
What little he did remember was vivid, yet partly ambiguous. He sighed heavily, wrapping his arms around his stomach. He recalled feeling good. Too good…
He had expected it even before taking that long, snakelike appendage into his mouth, and that's what made him feel so terrible for submitting. He had resisted, but he could have fought more vigorously. He felt like he'd betrayed his principals. He had allowed his frustrations, his pain, his illness and his mental exhaustion to take his discretion.
Worse yet, even though Link couldn't wrap his mind around it, he suspected that curiosity was partially to blame.
Guilt began to manifest itself. He tried to uphold his denial, but the memory of letting his physical wants take precedence over prudence was far too fresh in his mind.
From the second that he had permitted himself to be overtaken, he was besieged by an indescribable pleasure. When the union was made, he was filled with ecstasy. The discomfort afflicting every inch of his insides was extinguished by the demon's energy.
With a throat as parched as the desert, Link felt something akin to a cold mountain spring spill into his mouth. The insipid chill that had flooded his bones since the Faron Woods was plucked from his system like a weed. The inflamed puncture wound on his arm no longer hurt. The sting in his face all but disappeared. Pain was sucked from places on his body that he didn't even know he had. The relief that he felt was unlike any feeling he had ever experienced.
He remembered squeezing his eyes shut and taking a deep breath as he took the feeling in. He felt dirt under his fingernails as he scratched the ground. His feet felt tight in his boots as his toes curled. He recalled a lightening as his body seemed to lift. A long exhalation turned into a soft groan which he couldn't help. His body begged for more, unable to get enough. His hands rose out of the dirt and toward the one responsible for rewarding him with such an unfathomable feeling…
Then he felt the soft red velvet.
"Trying to remember, are we?" Ghirahim inquired. Startled, Link looked up. "Well, good luck, sky child. But I think you'll find that the majority of your experience cannot be fully retrieved. It was never encoded or stored in the first place. Such is life as a lowly human with limited brainpower."
Link looked down at the road once more.
The demon was correct in that most of what Link had seen and done just minutes earlier had eluded his memory cache; but, thanks to his episodic memory which served as a mnemonic trigger, the remnants left in the wake of his emotion and sensation were revealing in their own ways. Even if Link couldn't recall exactly what he had done, he was still able to remember how he had felt during that time, at least for the most part.
Old memories were dredged up and extracted from his brain. Something new was put in their place. Vague recollections from his past were swapped with a foreign endowment. Discontentment and empowerment coexisted within him for a few seconds as the former was replaced with the latter.
Link's parents came to mind—two people whom he had never been able to remember in detail. The single fact that he had always known, however, was that they had rejected him at a very young age. Because of them he had been thrust into the cold grip of an orphanage in the small village of Ordon. Loneliness accompanied the tail end of the short memory of his parents.
Link's thoughts shifted to a boy; a taller, older boy with no basis for befriending him beyond sheer pity, for the lonely wretch before him could only seem to find a friend in one other person—a little blonde girl.
Link never understood why Pipit had done it, but he had. He filled a void within Link that had been created when his father had deserted him. Perhaps it was because Pipit understood how it felt and what it meant to not have a father. Maybe Pipit had been searching for a way to fill his late father's shoes, and an opportunity just happened to cross his path in the form of a discarded, stuttering, sandy-haired little kid. Perhaps Pipit wanted to try his hand at patronage in its purest form.
Now that Link was older, he realized that whatever Pipit's rationale happened to be, he had sewed the gaping wound of repudiation. Zelda, as invaluable as she was, would never have been able to mend it.
The strange dynamic of his and Pipit's relationship filled Link's mind during his joining with the demon—the trend of being closer than brothers, but not family; they were equals, yet the older held unspoken authority over the younger. This attribute of their relationship was something that neither boy realized in childhood. Link was only now beginning to see it. All he knew was that he had a certain respect for Pipit, stemming from his appreciation for his best friend's commitment toward him that had begun years before they had come to Skyloft. The brotherhood that existed between the two was abstract, perhaps cryptic, and sometimes appeared to others as more of a liaison than a friendship.
Pipit had his flaws, as did Link, but they were there for each other just the same.
Why was the demon so determined to undermine their friendship? It was true that the two had hurt each other in the past. In recent days they had overstepped some boundaries and had parted ways on less than favorable terms. But still...
Tension and confusion regarding Pipit was not the only component of Link's concerns to be drawn out. Regret over Zelda and Midna surfaced as well.
Link took another deep breath of dusty air. The demon couldn't possibly have been right about his choice…
While still in the demon's embrace, Link tried to keep his excitement for being pain-free under wraps. He twisted beneath his enemy, regret of every shape and size warping his cognition. Remorse for things long past rose to the forefront. His eyes wavered as he saw vapors of a yellow hue ascending into the air.
Hearing the demon's words telepathically, Link learned that the swirling yellow was his own fear made visible.
Extrasensory perception—a hidden skill which Ghirahim was awakening.
The energy of the two joined bodies escalated. Every one of Link's senses reached their peaks, becoming so intensely keen that the power was barely containable within him.
Beleaguered then and now, all Link could remember was being left with a jumble of memory debris. But one last recollection remained with him.
When the transfer was complete, Link felt light as a feather and as indestructible as steel. He felt as fantastically powerful as Ghirahim had promised. It flowed through his veins, making him twist and turn. With the electric charge pleading to be released, the demon pulled back, leaving Link gaping in astonishment. Gasping for air, he was hauled to his feet.
He remembered being veiled with gold. He held his hands in front of his face and stared at their curious lambency. He looked at the demon again, feeling renewed strength flow from his fingers to his toes.
The demon, powerful and authoritative, put forth no yellow glow. Instead, red smoke floated around him, escaping from his every pore with tremendous vigor.
The last picture that Link's fractured memory held was his captor looking at him with such intensity that it nearly made his blood curdle. The demon's chin dropped and his sable eyes sharpened. A sinister smile formed on his lips. His head rocked with eagerness. His milky hair swerved to reveal the diamond below his eye.
Motionless, Link stood, awaiting his instruction. Ghirahim was terrifying but Link needed him. The second that he heard the demon urge him onward, he approached the stalhound.
Sensation took over then, leaving Link with no knowledge of the act that he had committed. All he knew was how it made him feel. An explosion of energy left him absolutely breathless. Energy and wind fulminated outward. Tremors shot through his feet and into the ground. Incredible amounts of tension escaped through his hands. It was a glorious reprieve.
The feeling was short-lived, but was more than enough to bring Link to his knees. The gruesome deed was done, but he couldn't remember it. All he knew was that he wanted more. He felt his hands clench and tremble. The strong yet pleasant tingling was almost too much to bear. His hands hit the forest floor.
Exotic energy circulated through him as he clutched the hard ground. Struggling for breath, Link marveled at the potency of this new feeling. It was almost orgasmic, especially in the way that it left him throbbing in its aftermath.
Link didn't need to see the demon to know that he was being closely watched.
"I must say, sky child," Ghirahim said, catching Link's divided attention once more, "it truly has been quite some time since I've played eyewitness to something so…" Ghirahim's voice lowered as he took a moment to ponder. Link cocked his head in curiosity as he waited for the demon to finish his thought. "…Phenomenal," he finally said. "Prodigious…preternatural, perhaps… A true rarity. I suppose I am rather pleased with what you've done today." He walked ahead with a spring in his step. Link looked away. He skipped quickly ahead, trying not to lag behind.
"Do you remember tearing that beast apart with your bare hands?" Ghirahim looked to the side. "So savage, so unmerciful, so absolutely beautiful." Link bit his lip and looked aimlessly into the distance. "Do you remember the sound, hero? Please tell me you remember the sound." Link could only watch as the demon tossed his sword back and forth.
"The cracking as the bones were viciously fragmentized. The echoing tears as that terrified beast was split into two, then three, then four as you unseamed every last piece from its rotting frame…" The demon chuckled. "The heartwarming crush as you disunified that beast from its existence, ripped its head from its body, shattered its meager spirit and cast its soul into the depths of oblivion. Music, sky child. Such gorgeous music. Far finer and more perfect than anything you could ever produce on that silly violin of yours. Simply enthralling, that cruel, sadistic death that you brought about without this weapon…"
Link was beginning to understand why Ghirahim so adored violence. The more pain and suffering he caused, the more pleasure he gained.
What a peculiar and dangerous design. And for a few moments, Link knew that he'd compromised his knighthood to take part in it. In something—
"—Inhuman, sky child!" Ghirahim sang, pivoting. "Are you not proud of yourself, hero?" he asked, walking backward. Link responded with a blank stare. The demon laughed, crossing his arms behind his back and keeping his pace steady. "And do you know what else, sky child?" Link heaved a sigh.
"Now I know why your little girlfriend believes you to be a good kisser." Link's face heated up. "As you thirstily drank down what I was kind enough to give you, as you imbibed and embraced me, I was taken aback by your fervency." Link squared his shoulders uneasily and looked around. He knew that he had welcomed what the demon had done, but surely he was embellishing…
"What if your lady friend knew that you were pawing desperately at another, hero?" Link opened his mouth to speak but remembered that he was unable. "What if she heard the less than innocent things that rolled off of your tongue in that superheated moment? In the heat of fusion?" Link grimaced, frustrated that he couldn't deny what was being said. Most of what he remembered was feeling and sensation, not what he had done. Or said.
"Do you know what you asked for, sky child?" Ghirahim held his hands out. Link looked at him with dread. He didn't want to hear it. Ghirahim leaned forward with a joyful chortle. "I said, do you know what the Goddess's chosen hero asked the Demon Lord for?" Link refused to let go of the belief that the demon was dissembling a different reality than what had actually happened in the woods. Still, he expected to hear something terrible.
"Well, how about I let the idea stew in your little imagination for a while? You never know. You might be able to tell your little lady yourself soon." Link glared, unsure of who or what to be angry at.
"The way I see it, hero, you've got a choice to make. Soon. Do you know what that oh-so-important decision is yet? Or do I have to tell you? I sincerely hope that you've got more brainpower in that asinine head of yours."
Link knew, all right...
"Ah, the lovely town of Acheron," Ghirahim announced over his shoulder. "Feels like it took quite a while to get here. Why is that?" He hummed to himself. "Absorb the view, hero. This is the last of what you will be seeing of this realm…for now."
Set under a sky as black as coal, the perimeter of the town was ablaze with torches. They were tall, sending the tips of the flames dancing over the surrounding wall. The vermillion glow spilled onto the dusty road, revealing a stone pathway leading to the town's only entrance: a guarded doorway, fortified by a heavy iron-barred gate.
More of the same gnarled trees lined the path, stretching their gangly branches toward the human once again.
Shadows danced on the pair's faces as the flames flickered and waved above their heads. A distant, demonic howl from a far-flung place almost made Link jump out of his skin. He narrowly spared himself the demon's ridicule. Link ran his hand through his messy hair, swallowing against the lump in his throat. In this place there was simply no telling what could happen.
The only sound to fill the night air as the two advanced was the pattering of shoes on limestone. Link lagged behind. The top of his head barely reached the demon's forearm. Being a person of modest stature, it was normal for him to feel short around most people. In the presence of the demon, however, he felt downright small.
As they stepped up to the gate, the loud, panicky ring of jingling keys burst forth. Soon, the gate was being pulled inward by its keeper. He promptly bent forward in a deep, deferential bow. Link watched as the being, similar in stature to Ghirahim but clothed in a black gatekeeper's uniform, placed his long arm across his chest. He dropped his head.
"Lord Ghirahim," he said in a jittery voice, his eyes to the ground. Stepping through the latticed gate, Ghirahim turned his head to the gatekeeper and nodded in acknowledgment. Link followed behind. The demon at the gate remained as still as a figurine as they passed.
The two followed the cobblestone path. The main path forked to the left and right, trailing through gardens nestled along the twenty-foot stone wall.
Light from the flames reflected off of what Link saw. It was as amazing as it was puzzling: fruit-bearing trees of an unknown sort with a generous scattering of flowers and shrubs. Link's brow rose at the realization that actual lifewas contained within these walls.
He looked up, taking in the visual of a vacant night sky. It offered the town no starlight.
The path widened, giving way to two six-story watchtowers. They seemed to be guarding an entryway. The tall red spires on tip of them made them even more imposing.
Link's empty hands hung down as he walked, restless and longing for his only means of protection. He looked at the Goddess Sword again. The demon had it tucked under his arm.
Passing through the two stone giants and the burning lanterns which accompanied them, the pair entered the town square.
"Acheron Square," Ghirahim said simply.
Link's eyes grew as he stepped into the energetic hub of activity.
Like the walls of the town, the stone shops and houses circling the square were accompanied by iron street lamps. An innumerable amount of stone-built homes bordered the heart of the town, stretching into the darkness. Jutting out of the urban landscape was a baronial mansion. It overtopped every building within view. Somehow, Link knew where they were headed.
Dozens, perhaps hundreds of demons darted every which way in the warm night air.
"Azrael Manor awaits, sky child," Ghirahim said over his shoulder.
Oh great, the 'angel of death's' house, Link thought.
The loud murmur and sporadic movement of the mob began to ease. All heads turned to face the demon and his human companion.
Stepping out of Ghirahim's path, every man, woman and child bowed down. Link felt a chill course through him as the din gave way to eerie silence. He gasped as a hand pulled him back.
"These people know who you are, sky child," Ghirahim spoke in his ear. Link looked around the crowd. "While we are here you will walk at my side like the good, reverential slave that you are. For you to not show me my due respect would be terribly déclassé of you, and I would be highly displeased. Besides that, there isn't one single soul here who doesn't see you as the world's guiltiest heretic. If you have any sense you will remain aviseful of your actions, or I just might throw the ravenous dogs a juicy piece of meat."
Grimacing, Link tried to avoid brushing against the demon's side, but failed. He felt curious eyes all over him.
It took three long minutes for Link and his escort to cross the town square. The stares of many tried to drag Link down.
As his feet touched the cobbled pathway leading to the residential section of town, Link sighed. The demons' reproving looks were far worse than any beating he could imagine.
He was grateful for the darkness veiling the pathway. Street lamps became fewer as they traveled further from the square. Tall metal torches gave way to wall-mounted oil lamps. They hung from the doorways of the modest two-story residences. A young laternarius dressed in dark clothes could be seen bouncing from one lamp to another, bearing a small hand-torch. Link watched as he relighted the expired lamps.
Darkness smothered Link like a layer of heavy wool. His eyelids grew heavy. His body supplicated for sleep.
Link didn't bother to look at faces as he passed people in the street. All he caught out of the corner of his eye were demons dropping to one knee. Some bowed.
Link's feet ached from all the walking. Why couldn't this powerful demon have just snapped his magical fingers and brought them to their destination?
Several long minutes passed. Fire flickered above them. Demons stopped what they were doing to genuflect. Link's feet bent and curved painfully over the uneven stonework beneath him. The far-off clamor dragged on. He looked ahead with no choice but to go on. The demon seemed bothered by nothing and pleased by everything.
Before long, a gatehouse came into view. Connected to the gatehouse, a smaller version of the town's enclosing wall ensured protection from unwelcome visitors.
The two stepped under the thick gate and beneath two large, ornate lamps. The demon lord gained immediate access from the guard.
The pair proceeded into an orchard, dark and uninviting in its bleakness. Link took a deep breath as he was led up the dirt pathway. The same splendid stone mansion that he had seen earlier loomed in the distance. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach. He thought about his sword again.
"This is it, sky child. Are you ready?"
Link craned his neck to view the building. Step after stone step brought him to the entrance.
Reaching the top, the pair walked under the carved archway of the mansion's grand vestibule. After crossing the passage they stopped at the door. Not bothering to be welcomed inside, Ghirahim pushed open the heavy wooden door, pulling Link along with him as he left the foyer behind.
As if a seismic event had befallen them, two male guards dressed in pale stately attire bent to the floor, their long white hair hanging around their shoulders.
Something on one of the walls within the entrance hall caught Link's eye. A flag with odd colors and foreign symbols hung proudly—a beautifully rich and elaborate tapestry. Before Link could study it he was jerked away.
Stepping through a door and into another part of the building, Link found himself inside of an immense rectangular room. He immediately recognized it as the great hall—the multifunctional center of the household.
As impressive as it was, the hall was nowhere near the level of grandeur of the oversized gallery in Ghirahim's residence. Still, it was just as busy; perhaps more so. Several servants, some demon, some bokoblin, rushed around the long parallel tables. A few stoked the fire in the fireplace. Others took on the never-ending task of cleaning and maintaining the grounds. Link wondered how in the world bokoblins of all creatures could be trained to work.
"As domesticated as they look, they have a volatile side, sky child," Ghirahim said, gesturing toward the large-nosed, big-bellied red beasts galumphing around the hall. Their plain, unadorned servant's clothes draped loosely over their muscular bodies. "They can become riled at a moment's notice, especially at the sight of a stray human. These beasts don't see your kind very often, and they are hardwired to pursue and to kill them when given the opportunity. You should already know this from your little trip in the Faron Woods. Keep a low profile, hero."
The demon bent to speak directly into Link's ear. As he clutched the back of his neck, Link gave a light gasp.
"I hear they especially like humans who are stupid enough to leave their weapons out of reach while they jump into ponds—naked." Link stared at the wall.
As soon as the demon lord's presence was known, everyone in the room fell to their knees. Link looked around, feeling strange.
"Have you ever wondered what it would be like to have an entire town, an entire kingdom, or perhaps an entire world get on their knees before you, sky child?" Link looked around the room. "You never know. It just might happen for you; if you choose correctly."
What is that supposed to mean? Link wondered. He sighed, missing his voice.
"Lord Ghirahim," a female demon said with her head low and urgency in her tone. "I will retrieve the Baron." She turned and headed past the screens passages dividing the hall from the kitchen and pantry. Link watched as the tall woman's white hair and cream-colored servant's dress flowed behind her until she disappeared into the stairwell at the end of the room.
As Link stood waiting with Ghirahim the servants tried to go about their business, but were hopelessly distracted by their lord.
Link looked up to the mountainously high ceiling. A multi-tiered crystalline chandelier hung from a long chain. Flames from the torches in the wall sconces made the shining stones glimmer and sparkle. The enormous, twinkling fixture reminded Link of a less pretentious version back home at the Lumpy Pumpkin.
"Ah! My lord, what brings you all the way to Azrael Manor?" a deep voice asked.
Jarred from his thought, Link looked refocused his attention. Another demon stood in front of him. He was slightly shorter than Ghirahim, with hair that reached well past his shoulders. Bending at the waist he held his arms out. His eyes stayed up to meet Ghirahim's. His attire was similar to demon lord's save for the diamond motif. Instead of red velvet, royal blue draped his shoulders.
Turning his pale face toward Link, his lips curled into a familiar grin. "And who do we have here?" His eyes were piercing "As if I didn't know." He chuckled, proudly tossing blue material over his shoulder. Link stepped back, unsure of what to think. The demon's head tilted curiously as he examined.
"This is the enemy's hero?" he asked, his unimpressed look intermingling with a spiteful smile. "Well, she most certainly doesn't choose them based on looks, does she?"
Link's face dropped to take in his raggedy appearance. Dusty and bloodstained, he looked bad.
"Does he not talk?" the strange demon asked, wrinkling his slender nose and snickering.
"I believe our recent activities have left him speechless," Ghirahim said with a wink. "Sky child, meet Baron Azrael, lord of this manor and its estates, head of the baronial officers and autocrats, warrior, financier, political adviser and nobleman of the highest status in this realm."
Not knowing how to respond, Link simply nodded.
"You wouldn't know it but he's actually a contentious little brute," Ghirahim added. "Headstrong. Terribly insubordinate. But I would expect nothing less from the Goddess." He chuckled. "We've come to borrow your upper hall for a time."
"Ah, come to play?" the baron asked with a hungry look in his eye.
"Indeed. Our brave little friend has come a long way to show me who's boss." As both demons shared a mocking laugh, Link looked down, feeling his face redden.
"What in the world is that?" the baron asked, looking at the weapon in Ghirahim's hand.
"Do you not recognize it? I suppose it has been quite some time." Ghirahim flipped it around. "This is the hero's little toy, gifted by the enemy, of course. Apparently he's supposed to save the world with it. The same old rubbish."
"Ah. How delightful," the baron said.
"Yes. It has a certain old-world charm to it. Reminds me of someone else I used to know…" He grinned at Link. "…So long ago."
"Yes, I do believe this world has seen its fair share of blond, sword-wielding boys in cute green outfits," Azrael stated. "Does it really need to be graced by another?"
"A legitimate question. I must say, though, that I've enjoyed this millennium's model very much. He has a certain spice to him."
"Oh, don't they all!" the baron exclaimed.
"Oh," Ghirahim groaned as he stretched his arms to shake off the giggles. "The superimposed room awaits." He grabbed Link by the shoulder. "The honor of your presence is requested, baron. Perhaps in thirty minutes?"
Azrael grinned and planted his hands on his hips, exchanging a momentary glance with Link. "Wouldn't miss it."
Growing tired of being hauled around, Link jerked his shoulder out of the demon's hand. Suddenly realizing what he'd done, he glanced to the side, catching Ghirahim's amused face.
"So eager to put me in my place that you can't wait for the sparring ring?" Ghirahim asked.
An unexpected movement pulled Link's gaze away. He looked toward the stairwell.
Link blinked several times, bowled over by a flash of beauty. A woman stood leaning against the door frame. She seemed to be watching him in return.
Forgetting about the demon, Link's jaw fell as he looked at the woman's striking black hair. It was quite a contrast to all of the white hair that had practically left him snow-blind.
Link was startled by the feel of Ghirahim's hand on his back. In the time that it took to glance behind him and look back at the stairs, the mysterious woman had vanished.
"Let's fix this little 'mute' problem, shall we, hero?" Ghirahim asked, lugging the young man to the stairwell. Looking down, Link hoped to the Goddess that the demon's words didn't mean what he thought they meant.
"And about what we were discussing before you decided to go for a solitary jog in the woods," the demon said, "you got an 'A'."
