Disclaimer: I don't claim ownership to Legend of Zelda or any of its characters.

Chapter VIII

Wastelands

Hyrule's green lands were not the only ones burdened by the growing tides of darkness as the demonic creatures began to take other regions by storm, rampaging throughout the ranges of Death Mountain and the Zora Kingdom with their grotesque forms. Ancient mutations were cropping up from the smallest of niches, vile and heavily armored, making it all the more difficult to control their populations. Deadly swarms of critters like the skulltula and keese, fouled due to the miasma of chaos and dark magic, swept across the nation and striking horror into Hyrule's races. And the Gerudo Desert was no exception.

A sickening sound of a bloodcurdling screech echoed across the dunes as a heavy blow from his blade sliced through the creature's belly. Ganondorf wiped away the blood spatter on his scowling face, piercing golden eyes glaring daggers into the fallen corpse that faded away into ashes at his feet. His right arm swung the sword into an arc at his side to clear it of any remains of the beast before returning it to the scabbard. The blade itself was none too impressive, meager in size as it was compared to its owner. In fact, in his hands, it may have well been considered a dagger or a letter opener at best. Considering it was a stolen Hylian blade, there was little wonder why. Still, he couldn't complain as the sword did its duty as designed. With his growth over the years, he would have much preferred one befitting of him, but perhaps that would come in due time.

Toned muscles rippled from his movements, glistening in a thin sheen of sweat. Sand clung to him like a magnet that, were he not a child of the desert, would have given him an uncomfortable itch. His body had grown to an impressive size over the years, filled out by muscles accumulated through rigorous training, not too bulky but definitely noticeable through the thick wool of his clothes. He towered over his peers now, well over six feet in height. Fiery red locks, a characteristic of his people, had been trimmed and styled to his liking, short and slicked back. A matching line of stubble dotted his squared jaw, the follicles awkwardly developing out into different lengths to mark the beginnings of a beard. The male couldn't help but feel thankful for passing through puberty without much issue, his body swiftly and completely matured into that of an adult filled with authoritative airs, rewarded by the respect of his people. Had they not been around to bear witness, one would assume his age to be more than he let on.

The Gerudo king turned to his comrades, jerking his head in gesture for them to press on, his patience wearing thinner by the minute as they stood under the intense sun. For the past ten years, he had been carefully planning, plotting out routes and accumulating the best recruits suited for the journey. In all honesty, most of the women were perfectly capable of handling arduous and dangerous scenarios, but he had to be prepared for anything the desert had to throw at him, including these mobs of unknown origins. Not to mention, he had to leave a select few behind to patrol and defend their homes. His preparations had been put off on the backburner for far too long now, much longer than he had originally anticipated, because of their appearance within the desert. Their numbers had threatened to break through the fortress on more attempts that he could count, all of which were foolhardy in his opinion, though he allowed a bit of admiration of their persistence.

For a brief moment, Ganondorf wondered what he would do if he could capture and command the demons to his own whims. Without a doubt, pillaging parts of Hyrule would be of no difficulty to him anymore. All of the Gerudo's operations had to be put on hold as the foul creatures interrupted any progression, almost as if purposely guided by some unknown hand to thwart him. If I could bend them to my will, I could utilize their force to get what I need, he mused, greed bubbling under his stoic expression. The desert king took great pride in the magic spells he's accumulated over the years. Taking control of his enemies, particularly those of weak minds like that of the demons, would be a simple task. With a good deal of the creatures following his beck and call, he wouldn't have to worry about anything getting in his way anymore, be that the interruptions came from the Hylians or the dark forces - part of him idly wondered how the entities even came about in the first place.

Ganondorf stowed this idea away in a small pit of his mind as he returned to the matter at hand. Even with this thought in mind, there was no escaping the fact that the legions were a nuisance at this moment in time. As the Gerudo's water reserves slowly dwindled with the shrinking of the oasis, he couldn't afford to waste any more time, and he'd be damned if he allowed the pitiful creatures to continuously hinder him. With the last of the current wave of beasts withering away into nothingness, he pressed his party onward to progress. They had been trekking through the shifting sands for the past four days now, delayed by the unpredictable nature of the desert along with the ambushes. It struck him as odd how the creatures seemed to pay no mind to the barrenness of the region, their aggression only seeming to acclimate over the past few weeks as the hordes grew in alarming numbers. Their threats were wasted on the Gerudo people, truly, but he'd be in denial if he said it didn't concern him. In the pit of his stomach, he could sense something far greater beginning to take form, an awakening of something unknown, though he wasn't sure how he knew. His nerves were forever enflamed in his tension, his guard never wavering lest something were to occur that would ultimately decide his fate.

As if on cue, Ganondorf's anxiety was answered. The man halted his company with a raise of his hand before motioning for his second in command to join him. When she stopped at his side, taking a look at what had caught his attention, her lips pursed into a thin lin. Before their party streamed a treacherous river of sand, closely resembling the one that frequented nearer to their fortress, only on a much larger scale and without any anchors for safe passage. Without knowing its depth or velocity, any attempts to cross would amount to suicide. The best possible solution would be to backtrack and find a way around its girth. On most occasions, the appearance of a sand river was usually viewed as good luck as past observations proved that the rivers actually carried frozen water droplets in their migrations. However, a phenomenon of this scale only spelled trouble, an omen of a deadly storm forming nearby.

As they retraced their steps beyond its boundaries, the Gerudo's worst fears came to life. Left without any means of shelter, save that of ragged tents that protected them dehydrating winds and cold nights, the party braced themselves against the behemoth of a sand storm cresting the horizon at a rapid rate. Ganondorf's golden orbs peered at it with scorn, almost as if in challenge, a sense of familiarity rather than dread bubbling from inside. In his mind, he went over the contents he'd learned from various tomes in preparation for this voyage, a strategy already formulating. He had studied hard, and practiced without end over the years, the spells that he would utilize to counter such forces of nature.

Gesturing for his party to mass together, he raised his arms in a fluid motion, bringing his palms together in synchronization. His lips parted to utter the spell's ancient incantations as his eyes never left his target. Pulling his hands back apart, Ganondorf stretched them out horizontally before him, fingers spread wide and crackling with electricity. He didn't feel it was necessary, but in the middle of the incantation, he had erected a thick, golden barrier around him and his comrades. There would be no mistakes allowed in his presence, and he would make sure of that. As the storm came close, the lightning jumped from his fingertips and increased in intensity, surging forth as he commanded. Pale purple streaks threatened to blind those surrounding him as they pierced through the hulking dark clouds, tendrils flickering to break apart the storm. In a matter of moments, the air cleared as if nothing had ever occurred. Only the dissipating charred remains of the storm being the only evidence of its existence. He watched the blackened debris rain down, interest suddenly piqued. The storm was certainly not natural at all, he confirmed when he noticed it vanishing much like the demons from earlier had. Lips curled into a snarl around his bared teeth, a new hatred beginning to surface from his visage before he pushed it back into the pits of wherever it came from. Yet another disruption from those pests.

Ganondorf took a deep breath, forcing his eyes to close lest his golden orbs popped out of his skull in his risen fury. His tensed muscled slowly relaxed before he turned back to his party, dissipating the barrier with a careless flick of the wrist as if swatting away at an annoying fly. A feeling of disappointment flitted across his mind for a moment, growing from the lack of a true challenge posed to the Gerudo king. With every spell he learned and utilized, he felt a phenomenal sensation, a thrill of power, and he yearned for more. His thirst unquenched as he continued to search for something to satisfy him. He could slaughter thousands of these dark creatures, and yet nothing would come of it but frustration. The former thought of harnessing the power of the legions was becoming even more of a craving.

He let the thought slide as the sound of feet shuffling in the sand returned him to the present. Ganondorf's golden eyes flashed open, cleared of the rage from before, and focused on his second in command. Nabooru strolled casually to their King, a vicious smirk twisting her otherwise beautiful features. Behind her, the other six women looked upon him with awe and hopefulness. "Well, not too shabby, my King. You sure did away with that storm like it was nothing. Such a shame you didn't use that lightshow during our spars. You may have one a few," his second jibed. Ganondorf simply rolled his eyes slowly, scowling. He was too used to her snarky antics by now to form a reply, though he mentally gave her words credit.

If not for his position as King of the Gerudo and growing with strength each day, she had every right to take his role. That is, if he allowed. He knew the others were aware of his pulled punches over the years. If he had utilized his spells during their practices, he could say goodbye to the fortress. It took everything he could not to behead most of his partners given his own strength and his tendency to let bloodlust take its course. Self-control was still a foreign concept to him after so many years, but Ganondorf's learned to restrain his actions, though not without struggle. More often than not, he had to resort to the Twinrova's binding hexes on him so that he would not put his people in their early graves. If he had not found worth in Nabooru, he would have done away with her and her ranting tongue long ago.

The Gerudo king ignored his second in command and the others for a moment as he pulled out the star maps, the blanket of night beginning its ascent from the horizon. His gaze switched between points along the map, calculating the group's current position and marking the sand river's location. Ganondorf allowed a pleased smirk to pull at his lips at his findings. Despite all interruptions along the way, they had made good progress and were within a decent range of their destination. In fact, if they followed along the outskirts of the river, the group would reach the hidden promise of water sources. He returned the maps to their current home in a small satchel before turning back to his followers, their gazes upon him awaiting their next plan of action.

Though they would not admit it, he could see the exhaustion beginning to form behind their piercing orbs. While he would much rather press on to complete their long voyage, the king thought it best not to waste their energy should any more attacks occur. Not to mention continuing on during the night would lead to disaster. His glance shifted off to the side to find a suitable purchase for them to set up camp. Upon the ever changing sands, pitching tents proved to be a challenge if not done properly. One of the previous nights was testament to that matter. The winds were unusually restless and had stolen away with one of their shelters, leaving them with only two tents to cram into, which honestly wouldn't have been a burden were it not for Ganondorf's build taking up a half of the small havens. His gaze settled upon an enclosure formed by desert palms, vegetation that's usually sparse in the Gerudo mesa. Their presences only aided to confirm the existence of the water veins he searched for. The ground underneath the plants were just stable enough to hold the stakes of their tents. Ganondorf gestured to the clearing with a tilt of his head, directing his party to set up for the night that creeped upon them.


The night watch was scheduled to change every two hours with two guards each watch as they settled in for the night, curling up for warmth underneath flimsy cloth sheets as their only protection from the nocturnal chill. Nights in the desert usually passed rather fast in comparison to the long, harsh sweltering day hours, but they were not without extreme conditions themselves. What stirred the king from his slumber wasn't that of the biting cold, but a burning itch in the back of his mind. Ganondorf was used to the restless nights that he experienced frequently over the past several years, though tonight was a whole new occurrence altogether. His toned arms rested behind his head as he shot glares into the tent's ceiling, threatening to burn holes into the scraps providing shelter. Any time he had closed his eyes for a long enough period, the voice would reverberate in his skull again and again, deep and grating as if coming from the very magma the churned beneath the earth. Its tone intending to boil his brain from the inside out, monotonously rumbling the same phrases, though never clear enough for him to catch its meaning. The Gerudo King pursed his lips, pondering as to the source of the voice. Was it his conscious, a sign from the Sand Goddess, or possibly some other entity? Was it a delusion or was someone attempting to play a trick on him from beyond some hidden veil? The latter was highly unlikely as he was sure he'd wear a warding spell at all times. He had his growing paranoia to thank for that.

Ganondorf shifted from under the covers, careful not to wake the tent's other two occupants, and exited, deciding to make use of his idle time. He waved a hand to dismiss the two night watchers for to rest for the remainder of the night. Once they were inside, he took to a comfortable position leaning against one of the palms, casting a glance out to the horizon in the direction of the fortress. Admittedly, every fiber of his being was wishing to return to what little comforts home had to provide, much like the rest of his party had discussed over the previous nights. Its sturdy walls soaring high to kiss the sun, mighty and menacing in appearance, but reverberating with life. The Gerudo bustled through its halls to perform their daily tasks, energetic with chatter and training. Sparring fields and archery ranges were never left bare, even during prayer hours or late in the middle of night. Occasionally, tournaments, hunting competitions, and light feasts would take place on the more productive months. The feasts wouldn't contain much of what the desert had to offer, but rather what they could acquire through their pillaging of nearby forest villages on the Gerudo border.

For the past few years, invasions had been made as little as possible. Ganondorf had rearranged all plans more diplomatically so that his people and the country Hylians could come down to a truce, requesting a meager trade. What the forest dwellers had to offer wasn't enough of course, considering their part of the lands weren't suitable for farming crops, but any rations were better than none, and the Gerudo would return with well-made crafts. As he had anticipated, the two parties surprisingly came to an agreement. The villagers favored the pottery and art of their desert neighbors, some finding profit in selling the wares elsewhere and others cherishing the pieces in their own homes. Perhaps it was because the smaller villages were in similar circumstances as the Gerudo that the barter was even made possible. However, the same couldn't be said for the rest of Hylian territories. His people and that of his trade partners were still currently ousted from the remainder of Hyrule. It would come as no surprise if the bordering villages ceased actions altogether in order to regain contact with their own blood. When that time comes, he would have to resort to their previous approaches.

A small oasis shimmered nearby the fortress, rippling in the rather tame winds that graced the valley. Pure and clear, the waters were unburdened by the unrelenting heat, as if protected by the Sand Mother herself. The oasis's only flaw resided in that it grew considerably smaller over the recent months. According to historical texts, its original appearance was large enough to almost rival the size of the former Lake Hylia, rich with minerals that fertilized the land around it. The Gerudo had once been a thriving culture, growing their own crops and even raising livestock, both of which were valued in trade as well. A wide range of desert cities had been built around it, some even diverse enough from the original tribe that they had their own names, though no one knew who they were now. Ganondorf and his party had passed through a few remaining structures from the cities of old that weren't weathered and swallowed by the sea of sands over time.

They had been blessed with the harvests from the Goddess, until years later when the oasis began deteriorating. Their race had been cleaved in little more than a half due to a horrible drought several centuries ago, and now they were nothing but a shadow of their old selves and slowly withering away in a desolate land with nothing but the forsaken sun as witness to their former prosperity. Now, the oasis was no larger than a common pond, unable to support vegetation and only barely enough to sustain the Gerudo. And it was rapidly shrinking still, as if a curse had been silently and steadily draining it since the day of the drought, with no evidence of a hidden water passage underneath should it dry completely. Once the oasis was gone, that would be the end of the remaining desert settlement. A curse… If it was a curse that caused all of this, then I wonder what kind of magic I could utilize to fix our situation, Ganondorf pondered.

Truthfully, he was anything but idle in his years growing up when it came down to that matter. When he was not planning routes and diplomacy in his paperwork, he was hunched over ancient tomes and scrolls that he's perused multiple times in search for answers. Only a few had offered viable solutions, while others were just old enough that their contents held no use for the current era. Ganondorf had scrapped those aside, but not completely, still holding onto the belief that he'd find some hidden spell locked away in their pages. Many of the scrolls held magic that interested him, sure, but nothing that yielded any solution to their current crisis. The king had begun to grow frustrated with his futile research, positive that the information he sought was buried somewhere in the very dunes that engulfed all of the Gerudo's former civilizations, and he had no leads in how to find it. Not even the Twinrova were capable of providing him a clue as to where he could find the archives of old.

The king clenched his eyes shut, forcing away the new bout of rage that threatened to overwhelm him. It was a strange sensation really. He expected a fair amount of frustration coming from him just as any of the Gerudo would hold if they knew what he did, but the rage was something else. Something more primal, coupling with the metallic, cold voice that kept him awake through the night. Ganondorf could blame it on the lack of actual sleep, which could be a part of it, but he sensed that the feeling came from elsewhere, though he wasn't sure how to prove this notion. Sometimes it took hold of him, completely warping his consciousness, and turning him against anyone and anything that was unfortunate to stand in his path. Had he not found a means to suppress the carnal anger by magical means, he would have very well eliminated the last of the Gerudo.

His first tremendous fit occurred when he was not even five years old, too young to have even been considered a threat to his own kind. It differed from the one that caused him to unexplainably collapse at the age of eight. At the time, he was not guided by the mixture of fear, anger, and grief. Only by pure fury, and, as always with the case of his tantrums, triggered by no known source. Ganondorf knew not of what exactly occurred – the twin elders refused to indulge him of the memory – but he was clearly aware of the array of fresh kill in his room, the blood still warm on his hands and face, and the faint pulsing of a golden light upon his right hand that seemed to grant him unnatural strength. He could not count on his fingers alone how many he had laid to waste, and the worst part was he didn't even feel regret from his action. Even to this day, the king had no care to try and recall the names of those of his own blood he had slain. Recalling the memory, he could hear the voice as clear as day as it commanded him to do its bidding, taking complete control of his body and mind, leaving his spirit to be stained in the aftermath of what he's done.

Ever since that night, he's had the most potent binding spells placed upon him by the elders, strengthened by the expendable energy he had to offer so that they would not waver. He couldn't risk the spell shattering and repeating the same mistake. They would never admit to it, but Ganondorf could feel the tension and wariness that slipped through his people's well-guarded visages. Indomitable as they were, the Gerudo women walked on eggshells about him, playing to his whims and refusing to question his authority out of fear that he would lose himself again. Only the Twinrova expressed true understanding of his persona. He chuckled lightly to himself though he wore a grim mask. So I may be cursed, just as with the land I live in. It doesn't matter so long as I do everything in my power to make sure my people will no longer suffer, no matter the means.

Ganondorf turned his attention back to the direction of the grand sand river that stretched behind him, following its path towards his destination. He could see it curving around broken strands of pillars that looked as if they had once belonged to another fortress or coliseum. Even in the past, the Gerudo were fond of battle prowess and held large competitions for all of the races of Hyrule to participate in. He allowed a feeling of warm pride wash over him briefly, longing for a day that his people would return to those glorious ages of life and prosperity. Their scouting mission may have seemed to be futile at first, but with every new stretch, promise was being shown in the ruins of the old civilizations. Hints of fresher water veins, though near dry, dotted landscapes in areas he had originally considered to be completely barren. Their prime destination was recorded in historical documents as being one of the largest sources of water, as abundant underground as it had been on land in ages past. It had once been a large oasis as well, though pale in comparison to their own during that era. As such, it was often the main target for past excursions during dire circumstances following the drought. If there was to be any salvation to be found in the arid desert, it would be found here, and he was the Gerudo's first successful guide in centuries.

The tamed rays of the morning sun were beginning to crest over the horizon, and Ganondorf pushed away from the palm he had stationed himself against all night. Rustling tent flaps reached his ears as his party stirred from their slumber and prepared for their departure. Children of the sun, as they had referred to themselves on occasion, was an accurately used phrase as the Gerudo often rose just as the sun did and greeted its arrival as if old friends. Their copper skin tones were physical proof of their relations with the celestial body over the course of history, but also symbolized the spiritual bond they all felt to have. Though accursedly casting blistering heat upon the desert's inhabitants during midday hours, the sun was still respected as it embodied the Sand Goddess's love. It watched over them, giving them the strength and energy to overcome any obstacles; its radiance was the Gerudo's radiance and uninterrupted by obstructions. With every wakening over the horizon, it promised hope of another day of living.

After a light meal of their small provisions, the group gathered their belongings and continued on their path, determined to finish their trek. With every dune they crested, the distance between them and their target dwindled until at last they arrived. The sight that they were greeted with immediately ceased their advancements. Golden eyes that reflected the morning sun gazed upon the area before them, all emotions of optimism and triumph quickly stripped from their visages. For two and a half weeks of exhaustive travel, the party finally reached their destination only to find it void of any signs of life. The ground was cracked in such a way that it threatened to cave in completely, ancient and yellowed bones jutting from underneath its layers as if attempting to escape from their decayed prisons. Only the ruined pillars provided them evidence that a great city once stood here, now nothing more than a skeleton of the civilization that mirrored those that lay buried in the sands. This outcome wasn't truthfully unexpected to the Gerudo, too used to the knowledge that their ancestors had been taken by the course of nature over the centuries.

No, what surprised them was the existence of deformed creatures unlike anything they had ever seen. Impossibly unnatural, bug-like critters skittered about the ruins, emitting a noxious cloud in their wake. Their blackened bodies were warped in such a way that not one resembled the other, and there were many. They seemed to pay their audience no heed as they picked apart emerging skeletons, feeding on the rotting bones as sustenance. A few of the Gerudo women turned their heads away in disgust and horror at the creatures the befouled their ancestor's home. Nabooru broke out of her own trance to spare a glance at their king's reaction. Ganondorf's expression twisted into one of similar disgust, but, at the same time, his fists clenched tight at his sides, knuckles white. With all of his keen magical talents, there was no denying the aura he sensed about the ruins, and he mentally cursed himself for not detecting its presence sooner. The area was completely engulfed by the same kind of miasma that bled out from the slain demons the previous nights. Their hope of retrieving even a small amount of water was gone, sucked away by the same curse that drained the oasis of their own fortress, and he was too late to have been able to do anything about it.

Just when he was about to growl out in frustration, another feeling froze him in place, a sense of foreboding chilling him to the core. Upon the high winds that curled through the mesas, his ears picked up a faint sound of anguish, coupled with the scent of fresh blood. Ganondorf became increasingly aware that the smell wasn't coming from any nearby source, and he suddenly felt the urge to return to their home. He cursed himself more for not having made time to build the sentry towers that he had been experimenting with over the years. Through use of his magic, even from long distance, the towers would have enabled him to keep watch of the fortress should anything go wrong. The king had put the structures off on the count they were an incomplete project that, if not set up properly, would be more trouble than it was worth, and he was instantly regretting not utilizing them anyway. Instead, he forced himself to swallow the dread, and commanded his party to prepare for a return trip.

Ganondorf decided it was best not to waste any more time and arranged a mass teleportation spell he had been saving up. For it to work, he had needed precise measurements of distance and direction that he had accumulated during their journey so that he would not land them in harm's way. One miscalculation had the potential to shift them underground with no means of escape or worse, lost in the crossing and unable to see the light of day again. Clearing his mind of current distractions, he gestured for the group to close in just as they had with the barrier, incantation leaving his lips as he joined them. Within moments, they had passed through every local point of navigation that they had visited until finally they came upon the grand fortress.


Recovering from the side effects of the teleportation, he couldn't help but notice how eerily quiet the valley had become. His feet carried him swiftly towards the foundation without warning in his determination to investigate. Ganondorf stopped short when he reached the towering gates before the fortress, his party behind him struggling to catch up with his fevered paces. The foreboding sense from earlier had come into fruition as they looked upon the scene of gore before them. Gerudo bodies lay about, cold and mangled on the desert sands. Further inspection proved that they did not go down easily as signs of combat were etched into the surrounding, and the tell-tale faded ashes blemishing the golden earth revealed the ambushers to be demons. Counting the lifeless forms of his people, he estimated a good twenty slain in the skirmish.

Without missing a beat, Nabooru dismissed their party to find any survivors and check for any more enemies. As they did so, their king climbed the stairs to the keep, taking note of the sealed doors. Despite being completely battered, the heavy doors stood firm, likely strengthened by the defensive spells of the Twinrova. As if on cue, the doors opened to his presence, and his people poured out of the fortress to greet their king. He immediately sought out the elders, refusing to acknowledge the expressions of shame and defeat he passed by. To see the Gerudo crushed in such a way was a foreign and sour new experience for him.

"Tell me exactly what happened here," Ganondorf demanded once he was towering over the spent spell casters. He allowed them a moment of reprieve from upholding the resilient barrier from before, waiting with reluctant patience as their energies were slowly being replenished.

"We were ambushed with no warning. Curse those hell spawns and their twisted magics! They avoided our detection," Koume spat, throwing a fist into the wall.

"It is as my sister said, my King. We were unfortunately caught unawares, and worse, we were outnumbered severely. I do not think we could have changed the tides even if you had returned sooner," Kotake added with a shake of her head. The twins relayed the incident in full to Ganondorf, confirming his suspicions and the total death tally. As he feared, the Gerudo had been reduced to sixty in number, and the scouts have found none to have survived outside of the barrier. All of his strongest warriors, not including those he brought with him on the trek, were laid to waste, bodies turning cold on the field that they fought valiantly to defend their home.

The king scowled, barking his orders. "Gather the fallen and prepare the funeral. We will hold the ceremony in two hours." They wasted no time to comply, setting up a massive pyre. The ritual was unlike that of the traditional standards. Typically, fallen warriors were sent away to their Goddess as their bodies were stored in the crypts of the Spirit Temple. Instead, the casualties were too great, and cremation was required. Wrapping the dead in oiled rags, the Gerudo set their lost upon the pyre and lit the cloths, releasing their loved ones' spirits back to the sun as their ashes were collected in memorial urns to be taken to the temple.

After the funeral procession, Ganondorf retired to his chambers without joining the others for dinner. He sunk down into the edge of his otherwise abandoned bed, resting his head in one open palm and sinking nails into his temple. Golden eyes clenched shut as a wave of emotions warped his face, grief for the lost and turmoil for his unpreparedness. Despite all of this, tears refused to slip through sealed lids. He would not allow himself to dwell over what could not be undone and risk crumbling away from his current responsibilities. His eyes flashed back open and landed upon his desk where unfinished paperwork sat cast to the side. So, it's come down to this after all, he inwardly growled. There's no other way about now. With that thought in mind, he shuffled over to continue composing the missive, reading and editing it where he saw fit until at last it was complete.

Fin

A/N: Oooookay, well there's that. Let me go ahead and say this now, I'm soooooo sorry this ended up being such a late update. I know excuses are lame, but really, so much school work all at once, on top of getting sick, then having a bout of depression (I guess writing depressing scenes don't really help much there, do they?)… I needed a break or two, and I procrastinated for a couple of days because I knew I was going to have a hard time with this chapter. That being said, I hope I satisfied you all a bit with the length of this chapter. Holy cow it's a long one! I didn't want to make it too short, but I wasn't sure where to stop either, and the content was tearing at my brain. But it's done at last.

Okay, I'm sorry for the rant. I know it must be annoying to some of you to read through author notes (if you even read them at all). Once again I'll say this fanfiction will be an exceptionally long one; it may even turn out to be like a book, and I've had recent thoughts to go through and check previous chapters to see if there's anything I should change. I'm not really sure about that, especially considering the lack of reviews, so if there are any you'd like to leave, I'd really appreciate it. Sometime in the future, the chapters will probably be updated, but their contents will not change dramatically.

Alright, that's it. I'll stop blathering. Thank you all for sticking with me and my slow update. I'll try to make it a weekly thing now. Until next time, lovelies!