Disclaimer: The author does not own the Legend of Zelda series

Paradise

He never understood why some wished for a world without death. After all, without death, would life be so precious?

Chapter 3

Sheik had seen too many of his friends die. Some had starved, some had been murdered, and some had taken their own lives. That last one had happened far too often. The worst part for him wasn't knowing that they were gone. It was the moment when they stopped being his friends, and instead became an object. A thing. A corpse.

One man was to blame for all of this. The sickening feeling that plagued Sheik wherever he went. The state of the world. All of it was the direct result of one person's insatiable lust for Power.

Sheik hated Ganondorf. It was not the hate that makes a person capable of killing. It was the disturbing, horrible hate that can make a person enjoy killing. That feeling was also the fault of this man.

But soon, he would be able to forget this feeling. His friends could all rest in peace, Sheik could go home, and then, maybe rebuilding could begin.

It had taken almost a year to infiltrate this far into Ganondorf's forces. It wasn't hard to disguise himself as a common bandit or thug, but the leader was very secretive and paranoid, as all tyrants are.

In an ultimate act of arrogance, Ganondorf had built up his headquarters in the remains of Castle Town. It had been the capital of Hyrule, once. But that was a long time ago. Sheik navigated the crumbling buildings with practiced ease. He walked past the tents and ramshackle huts that served as the homes of his private army. No one noticed him.

Blending in is an integral part of being an assassin.

He walked up the winding path that led to Hyrule Castle. The seat of power. Rage filled the assassin's red eyes. Of all the structures in the world, Ganondorf had left the castle completely untouched. Time had eroded much of it's former glory, but Sheik could see how it could have once been beautiful.

Yes, Ganondorf had taken this symbol of hope and prosperity and twisted it to his own design. It was there that he stayed, relishing in his victory, lounging in pleasures forbidden to all but his most trusted subordinates. The arrogant bastard event went so far as to ensure the moat was still filled with water.

Sheik had done much to get here. He was not proud of any of it. At first, the "Greater Good" had seemed like an excellent reason to do what was "necessary." The blood of innocents had washed away that ideal. Sheik knew what he was, he knew that there was no forgiving most of what he had done.

Now, all Sheik wanted was for it to be over. He wanted to walk into that castle, paint the walls with Ganondorf's brains, and spend the rest of his life atoning for the ones that had been taken in order for him to reach this moment. If only it was that easy.

The guards at the front gate nodded at him, signaling that he was allowed in. There was a checkpoint immediately inside. The thugs there searched him, removing any weapons he had on his person. They found his hold-out pistol, which was a shame. However, it didn't make his goal impossible. Just slightly more difficult.

They let him through the fence that had been set up in front of the large, rotting double doors. His heart began to hammer as he made his way to the throne room. It wasn't hard to figure out where it was; he just followed the noise. Loud, pounding music as well as the cruel laughter that can only come from a bandit or raider.

The white cloth mask Sheik wore over the lower part of his face concealed a small trail of blood dripping from the corner of his mouth.

He stopped in front of the doorway.

He took a few calming breaths.

He walked in, and tried his best to hide how sickened he was.

The throne room was a mess. There was furniture strewn everywhere, pieces of clothing, scraps of food. There were girls chained to beds and walls, and Sheik had to look away so as not to break his cover by doing something foolish. He clenched his hands as the sounds of crying and screaming began to distinguish themselves. His eyes fixed on his target.

He sat on the throne. His expression filled Sheik with disgust. Ganondorf laughed with his men, and gave off an air of power. If he had wanted to, this twisted being could have killed everyone in the room with no effort.

As he neared the throne, ignoring remarks from the other men in the room, Sheik carefully pulled down his mask. With a fake cough or two, he spit out the small throwing knife that had been clenched between his teeth. The edge has left a small cut on the inside of his mouth, but he ignored the blood.

Ganondorf turned his head to look at the newcomer.

"So," he said in a booming, arrogant voice, "You have come at last, Sheik."

The room became quiet. All of Ganondorf's followers turned to stare at the blond assassin. Some of them began to form twisted grins.

'He knows,' thought Sheik. 'Of course he knows. I'm not surprised.'

"Tell me," said the tyrant, "Do you still intend to kill me? I'm afraid I've known of your mission for a very long time. Poor Sheik… all those people you murdered to get here…"

Ganondorf adopted an evil grin. Sheik shook with a new found hate.

"You have come to your death, fool. None who defy me are allowed to go free. Men," he raised one hand.

"Kill him."

Sheik leaped forward. The two men that had been closest to the throne stepped in to stop him, but he didn't waste any time on them. He lashed out with a quick punch that knocked one to the side, grabbed the other by the scruff of his neck and threw him to the ground.

The knife in his hand shifted into position. His heart was beating painfully fast. He finally let out of his emotions in a single, terrible battle cry.

Sheik sprinted up the steps to the throne.

Ganondorf began to stand up.

The men yelled at the top of their voices for someone to do something.

Sheik jumped up the last three steps.

Ganondorf, now standing, reached for his handgun.

Sheik stood before the object of his hate, the cause of all the world's suffering.

He swung out his arm, and the blade of the knife cut across Ganondorf's throat, spraying warm, green, blood over Sheik's face and clothes.

Time stood still. Ganondorf clutched at his throat, gurgling, and collapsed to the floor. Sheik stared at the body, trembling. The knife fell from his grasp. He had done it. It was over.

The assassin quickly regained his senses, and began to flee. He ran past the stunned guards, toward an open window. Before he could reach it, he stopped in his tracks.

A deep, evil laughter was coming from the direction of Ganondorf's corpse. Sheik slowly turned around, and despair filled him.

Ganondorf stood up, no trace of the life threatening wound on his neck. He grinned maliciously at Sheik.

"You poor, ignorant fool. No one can kill a God."

He then threw the discarded knife with such force that it sent Sheik flying out the open window.

Sheik fell through the open air, staring in disbelief at the knife that was now lodged in his shoulder. He impacted painfully with the surface of the moat water. By the time the rest of Ganondorf's men arrived on the scene, Sheik was nowhere to be found.

In the rubble just outside Castle Town, Sheik sat, bleeding. He rested against the cold, concrete remains. He let his warm blood flow down his arm, the feeling letting him know that he was not yet dead. He tried to understand what had happened.

He had killed Ganondorf. Slit his filthy throat.

And yet he lived. He had survived something that would have killed any mortal man.

Any remnants of hope Sheik had left were now gone. There, in the remains of a now destroyed society, he let go of his dreams and his wishes.

Sheik pulled his knees up, wrapped his arms around them, and cried.

It was dust now. Dust, sand, and memories.

There had been a lake there once. A long time ago. The most beautiful lake of them all.

This empty, dry pit was all that remained.

The stranger thought that was rather sad.

He stood up, and walked over the rickety bridge, leaving the island with the stone slab behind him.