I glide down the corridor, hearing the echoes of my leather boots reverberating off the stones. But as I approach my personal chambers, I hear something else. The pitter of faint footsteps. I about-face; no one is there and I enter my room. Twisting the silver key into the keyhole, I cast an enchantment on the wooden door. I then pass by the bed to scrutinize my narrow face in the mirror.

My eyes reflect the color of fresh apples, green and bright. I notice that my purple hair is losing its black streaks. I grab the swamp-witch's potion and massage the silky tonic into the strands. After a minute or two, the black streaks reillumine. I grip the bottle for a moment, a frown spans my face. I remember the old witch, she was very kind and eccentric. How foolish and stubborn father is. I hate his rules; I want to leave this fortress.

I lather my face using homemade soap and water with my wash bowl and pitcher. As I dry my face, I wander to the small balcony facing the setting sun. Half submerged into the west, the sun paints orange, green, and pink across the underbellies of clouds. I look down at the temple. It faces away from me, but I can clearly see the four pillars and fiery finger. I faintly hear the boulders, crashing and rolling. How many spies have those boulders killed?I return my gaze upward and glimpse the black silhouette of the clock tower on the horizon. My melancholic frown reappears; I think of music, laughter, dancing, crying, and art. Frequenting Clock Town for the annual Carnival of Time just isn't enough. Even then, I have to wear a mask the whole time.

"It's a beautiful view, isn't it?" I hear.

My eyes widen and then narrow. I almost spin around, but manage to control my impulses.

"It is, father." I say coolly and glance behind me. Father leans against the doorway to my chambers. I progress, "Was my spell that easy to breach?"

"A little more practice is all you need." He remarked and chortled.

"That, or you shadowed in while I was busy with my potions. Which would explain why my enchantment is still intact."

Not hiding his chagrin, he continued, "You got me there. But come now, sealing the door and coloring your hair, whatever happened to the little girl that ran the halls, giggling and roaring?"

"She realized her reach was limited because she lived in a cage. There are so many things I want to learn and see beyond Stone Tower, father. The books in the library describe such places, places with glowing seahorses and dragonflies bigger than me. But will I ever go to those places? No. Will I ever reach those dreams? No."

Father's gaze lowered, his blue bangs covering his eyes.

"I do not mean to abandon the tribe or its creed, but we are not living anymore. We are dwindling."

"I know, Majora, I am well aware of our situation. But I believe our time has finally come again."

"Father?"

He brushed his hair behind his right ear and said, "The Wise Men have returned from the Golden Land with news. We are closer than ever, Majora."

"You mean you're closer."

Silence passed, then Father capriciously said, "Did you know that your uncle Oumari's apprentice, Eoni, has asked me for your hand in marriage."

I wasn't surprised, "Eoni?"

"Eoni." Father confirmed, "Think about it, Majora: when your uncle dies, Eoni will be the next mayor—we'll make sure of it—and you could be the mayor's wife. You could leave Stone Tower and spend your years in Clock Town, visiting all the other regions and chasing sunsets as well. Does that appeal to you?"

"How soon could I marry Eoni?" I say, tired of his teasing tone.

He smirked. "You're that anxious to leave? Your attendant has not even reported you bleeding Moon's-blood, be patient. But in order to have my blessing, I need something from you. And what I ask is not a frivolous thing. But you must learn that freedom has a high price."

"What do you wish of me, father?"

"Three years of your life."

"Three years?"

"Maultrich informs me that—"

"Maultrich is a strange and dark man. I don't trust him."

"Nonetheless, he is the high priest and the last of the great mages. He has informed me of another way to resurrect Lord Demise."

I leer at father. "What does Maultrich know? Lord Ghirahim was only capable of such magic. And I thought Lady Hylia's incarnation was the only acceptable sacrifice—and she is protected under sign of the Fierce One."

"Very true, my daughter. But Maultrich has another theory."

() () ()

The whole tribe joins the procession, mumbling and conversing. They amassed in the markets and common areas and then paraded slowly down the main halls, halting at the terrace across from the temple. I hear the words, "war," "Keeta," "oath," "election," and "sacrifice" along the way.

At the gap, I spot Maultrich in his formal, black robes. He announces, "Behold, the Great Temple of Stone Tower! Look! The fiery finger of indignation still burns brightly. If you are ever lost, let the Holy Hand guide your sight always skyward! To those that robbed us, and to where our hope forever lies."

An attendant brings Maultrich his bow and he loses a glowing arrow across the void. It sails and pierces the bloody gem on the temple's front, bleeding crimson everywhere. I shut my eyes and grappled with the uneasiness of shifting gravity. First, I am jostled sideways and then thrown downward to the ceiling. My muscle memory lands me on my feet, poised and calm. My handmaiden brushes dust from her gown and everyone else lands silently.

Father and Maultrich extend the bridge and we traverse the dark pit beneath. I soon stand before the burning eyes and gaping mouth of Stone Tower Temple. I wait a moment: pondering the blackness inside. I enter and the shadows feel so thick that I almost feel them seeping into me.

The procession marches throughout the temple, careful not to fall into the sky. The minstrel's play jaunty tunes as we tread deeper and deeper into the temple. Chamber after chamber, my tribe dances and skips and sings. I spy our tribe's symbol along the walls and floors. It's a figure: masked, caped, and horned. The same emblem is embroidered on my purple cape and white tabard. One of father's guards carries a small wooden chest and is instructed by my father, "Remain here. Should one of the four intervene, use the Giant's Mask."

The final chamber has a gigantic hole in the ceiling; a torrent of silver moonlight spills upward onto the painted floor. Maultrich stands beside the gap, reaches into his belt pouch, and retrieves a handful of white, powdery sand. As he slowly kneads his hand, the sand flows down and swirls rapidly into the hole, forming an enormous eddy that spits light and dust.

"Are you ready, my daughter?" I hear behind me.

Maultrich bids me forward.

"Yes." I whisper and proceed to Maultrich. I gaze upon the vortex and dive into the sky.