Well, that was an awkward hiatus!
After a long wait, here's the next chapter of Corrupted Hero. I had a good chunk of this completed way back when, but my writing schedule got away from me, so here it is in all its glory! I've made this one a tad longer to make up for things. I also wanted to get this one out quick, seeing as this story has seen more traffic recently, so please pardon any errors I made. Thank you! :) You're all fabulous.
Hope you enjoy!
Link sat for a moment alongside the silence that the voice left him with. Had it the capacity to speak, he would have asked for its advice.
He wasn't sure how he was to proceed, beginning to grow worried in the smoggy, crimson half-light. He knew the voice had instructed him to leave, but as far as he could tell, there was no conceivable way out of the room. No windows, no doors, no locks. The only doorway visible was blocked tight by a wall of pillars, but even then, they didn't appear to be budging anytime soon. It appeared that he was sealed inside.
Squinting at the pillars, he ran his gaze over them, hoping to find a gap or a crack to somehow exploit, but he ultimately found nothing. Distracted for a moment, he traced his eyes along the peculiar embellishments ingrained within the pillars, enthralled at their intricacy, curious about their meaning.
One in particular, however, made him uneasy — at the pillars' center, a large, ornate, unblinking eye hovered, shedding a single tear. His skin prickled, as though the carving was watching him, waiting on his next move. He was afraid it might blink at him while he exchanged mute stares with it.
He didn't linger on the eye any longer than he had to, instead bringing his thoughts toward his situation again. The ancient air flowing in and out of his lungs felt more and more suffocating with each breath — but perhaps that was all in his head. Regardless, he needed to find a way out quickly. He wanted answers, and he knew he wouldn't get any of them just sitting there. He needed to take a closer look around.
Steadying himself on a solid chunk of the pedestal, he slid his legs off and set his bare feet on the cold, smooth stone floor. While he took note of his rather meager clothing — a simple pair of shorts adorned with a few weathered leather belts — he outright ignored the bizarre view of his skeletal toes shimmering up at him. They didn't look natural at any angle; that sight would certainly take some getting used to.
The simple act of standing proved more taxing than he anticipated, however — the moment he attempted to get to his feet, his head rushed and he sunk to his knees with a gasp. Head swimming, he leaned heavily against the pedestal, twisting his eyes shut to steady a bout of nauseating vertigo that swirled his brain into soup.
Thankfully, it didn't last. After a moment or two, the dizzying sensation raging between his ears settled, and he reopened his eyes, heaving himself up with a grunt. Once standing, he held still to balance himself before turning his sights on the reverently-glowing pedestal in the corner. Compared to the rest of the objects in the room, it seemed a good place to begin with.
It appeared to be waving him over, flashing with a pleasant blue light. The color felt out-of-place in the angry red fog around him, but that gentle blue made him feel welcome in a way, and he was drawn to it keenly. Padding forward to face the pedestal, his face scrunched as he tried to figure out if this was possibly the Slate that the girl had mentioned. Nothing about it signaled to him that it was a slate, but he nonetheless inspected it.
The pedestal's flat surface breathed with light, nestling something rectangular at its heart. Huddling in to get a better look at it, Link gave a start when it burst with a sudden shine, slowly pushing part of its surface towards him.
He leaned back, eyes wide as he watched the pedestal perform a sort of wordless greeting to him, rotating around via hidden mechanisms that clicked against their age. When it had finished its ritual, the rectangular center of the pedestal rose from its niche, presenting an unusual device.
Link had never seen it before, and yet, there was something familiar about it.
The device captured his fascination, and he drank it in with awe. Flat on both sides, and roughly an inch thick, the device bore a gripped handle on one end, decorated with twisting patterns that burned like coals. Link watched the device flip itself over to reveal a design on the back: the familiar, disconcerting gaze of the eye with a teardrop leaking from the bottom. Its sclera radiated a shocking blue; it bore into his face, awaiting his hand.
A slate, Link immediately thought, though he wasn't sure where it came from. The Sheikah Slate…?
Only one way to find out. With cautious curiosity fueling his actions, he took a step forward and reached for the Slate, plucking it from the pedestal. It was moderately heavy, but manageable, appearing to be carved from the same dark stone as the Shrine. He examined it up close in both hands, turning the eye away from him and meeting a reflection in the shiny, pitch-black screen on its face.
His brows furrowed. Something strange looked back at him from the screen — a trio of harsh golden orbs in the midst of a smudgy, cream-colored complexion — everything blurry and indistinguishable.
"What?" he breathed, drawing the Slate up to his nose, trying to sharpen the image. He honestly couldn't remember what he looked like, but that couldn't have been his face… could it?
He gave a small, startled gasp when the device abruptly came to life in his hands, trilling out a friendly chirp. The screen alight, it displayed the eerie eye symbol for a brief second before the image stuttered and flickered. The chirping issuing from the Slate grew suddenly distorted, resembling more of a dull groan of pain than a greeting.
He gaped at its reaction, half-wondering if he had somehow broken it. Before he had the chance to consider the possibility, he spontaneously convulsed. Something had shifted inside him — a tug in his lungs stole away another gasp, redirecting it and igniting the bones beaming through his skin from a dull magenta to a violent scarlet. Astonished, he shivered in a nonexistent chill and watched as the light coursed down to his claw-like, bony fingers, shining boldly through his fingertips.
He hadn't the faintest idea what was happening to him — perhaps it had something to do with the Slate? he wasn't sure — but it pumped through his body with a gusto that sent his heart bucking against his ribcage. It felt… good, in a way.
As exhilarating as it was, the feeling was fleeting: to Link's split-second horror, a grotesque, twisting mass of sludgy, tangible shadows spawned from out of his hands and attacked the device. A scream ripped out of his throat, shattering the peaceful air. Jolting back, he nearly threw the Slate away from him, but his fingers had locked around it without his control. He shook the device back and forth, but his grip refused to relent.
Helpless, he stared as the grim mire continued to gush from his palms — it bit at his skin with a scalding touch, spreading across the Slate, seeping through hidden seams beneath the ornamental designs. The shadows greedily polluted it, both to his and its panic. The Slate blared a kaleidoscope of light in a frenzy, screeching beneath his grasp and the darkness forcing its way inside of it.
Throughout the ordeal, the solitary eye on the Slate's screen kept a vigilant watch on Link, despite its rapid color-change from blue to a deep scarlet. The tear dripping from it seemed to have meaning, now.
As he watched the device's blue accents plunge into red, he couldn't help but feel like the Slate was speaking to him.
Help.
The gaze of the eye pierced him to his core. Shaking, he continued to thrash against his inexplicable death grip on the Slate, until miraculously, he managed to let go. The Slate flew from his hands, spewing sludgy shadows into the air before clattering across the floor and landing with crash against the sealed doorway.
Through ragged breath, he gawked at the Slate, speechless. He slowly brought his eyes into his palms. The sludge was nowhere to be found on his skin; even with the uncontrollable quivering of his hands, he found the light from his bones growing fainter until it settled back to a quiet, magenta glow. He strained to normalize his breathing, all while wracking his brain to figure out exactly what had transpired.
It was almost as if he had infected the Slate. Made it sick. But… with what? Was there something wrong with him?
He had a feeling that was the case, though he couldn't fathom what it was. It made his stomach writhe just thinking about it.
Link's muscles seized up when the floor rocked steeply beneath him, the tremor sending sheets of dust trickling down onto him from the ceiling. His attention was quickly wrenched toward the pillars jammed into the doorway as the gritty grinding of stone met his ears. With a shred of hope brightening his murky mind, he watched the pillars gradually retreat from view into the doorway, revealing an anterior room beyond.
He blinked, amazed. A way out! He could hardly believe it. Eager to escape the confines of the stuffy room, as well as the questions that lingered there, he hurried forward to the open doorway, only to bump his toe on something.
The Sheikah Slate.
His eyes fell on it, effervescing with a new crimson light at his feet. Part of him feared what he had witnessed from it, while the other reminded him of the girl's words.
Find the Sheikah Slate. It will guide you.
He hesitated, wary of possibly 'hurting' it again. But how could he harm a machine? It made no logical sense. Biting his lip, he eventually bent down, grabbing it by the handle and looking it over. Apart from the change of color, it appeared undamaged and virtually unchanged; the eye still remained, unblinking, in the center of the screen — no sludge in sight.
The memory of whatever-it-was that had issued from his hands still haunted him. He didn't like the thought of carrying it around — if it was truly inside the Slate. What was it, exactly? And why had it attacked the Slate? Would it somehow break free? What damage could a radical entity like that cause?
Frozen in his spot, he exchanged another stare with the eye for half of a second before a reassuring nudge from nowhere converted his ambivalence. He had the Sheikah Slate, just as the girl had said. He needed it to guide him, and he definitely needed all the guidance he could get. As far as he knew, regardless of the strange sludge, it had freed him from the sealed room, bringing in…
Link had been so engrossed in his unrest for the Slate that he hadn't noticed that he was squinting. His eyes rose from the Slate and out the open doorway, where they stung against a shaft of light — pure, warm, summer sunlight — that had shot through the thick haze of the Shrine.
The light stole his breath, dropping his jaw. Something came over him, then, gently sweeping through his body and numbing him. He couldn't seem to blink, his eyes drinking in every second of golden sunlight they could possibly take, like he was starved for it. He had no idea it had been one hundred years since he had seen natural light. Almost as if he were being pulled in by a sunshine riptide, he secured the Slate on a hook on his belt and shuffled forward.
While even the brief exposure he had to the new light warmed his skin and thawed his fears, it seemed to take its time warming up his mind. He was so eager to escape the dark Shrine that he utterly failed to see the object in his path until he was tumbling over it. Cracking his shins against it, his nose and elbows plunged into the floor with painful thuds, the object knocking the wind out of him.
Had he not been so startled, he definitely would have felt embarrassed, but fortunately for his pride, there was no one around. Taking in a wheezy breath, he craned his neck around to catch a glimpse of what he'd tripped on.
Link found himself draped over a lonely chest placed in the middle of the path out of the hazy room. His brows knit together, angry questions flitting through his mind. Who would leave something like this lying out for no reason? What was its purpose?
Gritting his teeth, he eased himself off of it and came around to its front, his nose and shins throbbing. Interestingly enough, the chest lacked a lock.
His curiosity eventually overpowered his annoyance, causing him to stoop down and lift the lid. What he found inside took the glower out of his face, replacing it with surprise. It wasn't anything astounding, only a set of thin, threadbare clothes, neatly folded beside a pair of tattered shoes.
A small smile found his lips. These clothes were better than nothing — especially considering all he had on his person was the Slate and his shorts.
How kind, he thought.
Link wasted no time slipping into the clothes. While at first a boon, he soon saw they weren't perfect. The pants were surprisingly comfortable in spite of their looks, if not shorter than anticipated, reaching about midway down his shins. The shirt strained against his muscles, coming apart at the seams. He prayed they would hold as he moved around.
Thankfully, the shoes weren't as hopeless as they initially appeared; at least he wouldn't walk out of the Shrine barefoot. Though tighter than he would have liked, the clothes hid a decent amount of his bizarre bones from view. For that, he was especially grateful to whomever had left them there for him.
Now more prepared to leave the Shrine, he quickly left the chest behind, descended a small ramp, and hurried through a colossal, yawning archway guarding a flight of dust-coated stairs. As he climbed, dust motes fluttered by him in the brilliant light pouring through an opening ahead, igniting his pulse and spurring him forward. His breath heightened the nearer he approached the exit. As the light from outside tingled his skin, it burned his eyes, concealing what lay beyond, almost like it was teasing him. But it only made him yearn for the outside even more.
As he climbed, he couldn't explain what he was feeling, but… he felt alive, somehow. Like he was rising from a grave, crawling out of a prison, greeting the world for the first time. Each breath he took only energized his blood — it careened through his veins like lightning, sending jitters up his spine. The sensation was nothing short of exhilarating.
A wide, involuntary grin bore his teeth. He couldn't wait for his vision to adjust. He practically sprinted out of the Shrine and into the light.
The snapping of his shoes against stone was abruptly replaced by the delightful, soft crunch of grass beneath his feet. Grass! What a spectacle! The sound tickled his ears as his legs carried him forward, his eyes finally adjusting to reveal the splendor of the outside world. Undeterred by the adjustment, he quickly set to work taking in everything around him with the tenacity of a lovestruck fanatic.
His eyes flicked about to the waist-high grass whistling in his wake, then to the conifers swaying in the morning wind. He was entranced by their vibrant colors; such gorgeous greens and browns — he felt he had never seen them before. His ears pricked at the sweet warbling of the birds in the boughs, as well as the crickets chirping in the grass, greeting their new stranger. He filled his lungs with the scent of the woods, of tree bark, fresh-dewed grass and mud, of robust pine needles. The crisp breeze brushing against his cheek gave him goosebumps.
Enraptured by the wild, he continued forward, desperate for more. But it was only when he caught a glance of what lay beyond the small glade did he stop dead in his tracks at the crest of a cliff.
The sight made him weak in the knees. A sea of treetops stretched beneath him, underscoring sprawling, rugged cliffsides and rolling hills spreading miles beyond his line of sight. Soft golden sunlight bathed the world in rich greens and painted the distant waves of mountain ranges in slated blues. The wild landscape was breathtaking in its own right, but it only served to frame two distant objects dominating the horizon: a smoke-spewing volcano dripping with glowing veins of magma, and the black, jagged silhouette of a castle, its rugged spires raking the sky.
Gasping from both his sprint and the world before him, Link stood, humbled, in his place, his eyes struggling in disbelief. Out of everything he was seeing, he found himself almost hypnotized by the castle, something tugging at his brain; the castle was a black mark on an otherwise lush landscape, and it seemed to be calling to him. He couldn't pull his eyes from it.
While under its spell, he nearly took a step toward it before a lurch in his gut quickly reminded him that he was standing at the edge of a cliff. Judging from the brief glance he stole over the edge, and the steep drop down, he decided he would admire the castle from a distance. He'd rather not shatter his legs moments after leaving the Shrine.
Now that his heart and breathing were settling down, he found his eyes wandering, and he managed to pull away from the castle's lure. He wet his mouth, dried from his gaping, and drew his gaze across the skyline. The glow of the dawning sun beamed between a pair of twin peaks far into the distance, shining through the split separating them. He lingered on their intriguing formation for a moment, as his eyes were quickly tugged to a structure nearby: the pointed steeple of what looked like a church, just down the hill.
It stood out, grey and dark, amidst the overgrowth it loomed over. Just as the castle before it, he felt something beckoning to him when he laid eyes on it. As much as he was inexplicably desperate to visit the castle, the church was closer. Curiosity gnawed at him. He had to investigate.
Perhaps he might find some answers there?
But before he had the chance to make his way over, Link froze, finding himself seized by an uncanny itch: he felt a pair of eyes trained on him from somewhere. A hidden instinct inside him sprung into action, sending his gaze in search of whoever was watching him.
It didn't take him long to find his silent spectator.
Far below, at the base of the sloping cliff, stood a tall figure. For a moment or two, the both of them exchanged glances before the figure broke gaze, turning and walking toward a hollow, rocky knoll. Link watched the figure seat itself beside a glowing campfire, where it remained. It didn't acknowledge him any further.
Link hesitated making his approach. Part of him worried about the intentions of the stranger, but the other wanted to make at least some sense of where he was and what had happened to him. The voice from before couldn't slake his curiosity.
Maybe this stranger could be of some help?
There was only one way to find out. Link smoothed out the wrinkles in his clothes and began walking down the hill.
Can you imagine waking up after so long and experiencing the outdoors again? I like to think it would be a magical experience. I hope I captured that well enough.
Anyway, I'd love to hear what you think! Next chapter should be out soon. :) Stay tuned, peeps!
Thanks for reading!
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