It's me again! Wow, I don't think I've ever written an update that quickly. Go, me! Your support was very encouraging, and I'm so grateful to you for giving my little story a read.
I hope you like this chapter, here — I had to tweak a lot of the Great Plateau to get this to work. Things start happening in this chapter, so stay tuned!
Anyway, I won't ramble. Thanks for reading! I sincerely appreciate it.
As Link approached the figure seated by the fire, he couldn't help himself from analyzing them. The action was almost involuntary, and he fed his gaze on every scrap of detail he could grasp of them while he made his way over. Without speaking a word, he got to know them in the span of a few seconds.
The figure belonged to an old man. A hood concealed most of his face, but Link nevertheless took notice of his broad, sun-browned nose and the snowy beard cascading down the front of his overcoat. Though he was seated, Link could tell he was a rather large man in both stature and from his stocky frame, with layers of dark, heavy clothing bundled tight around his body. He sat amongst a slew of his belongings: a basket of freshly-picked apples, a torch with some flint, and a walking stick he had balanced across his lap.
Happy as he was to see another human being, Link found the man's surplus of clothing strange, as the morning air was cool, gentle, and pleasant; he appeared to be an outdoorsman, so why would he feel the need to bundle up so? Link thought that perhaps the man was trying to hide something. But what? And from whom? As far as Link knew, there was nobody else around but them.
He then began to question the old man's presence. Just what was a man of his age doing out here by himself? He supposed he'd find out shortly.
The old man sat hunched before the crackling fire, gazing mutely into the flames. He seemed to be engrossed in his task, for he paid Link no heed until he was mere feet from him.
Of all the things Link was expecting upon meeting the old man — a friendly face, a grumpy hello, anything — the reception he got was the very last of those. He was about to clear his throat to get the man's attention when his foot met a twig, it giving a snap. The sound wrenched the old man's gaze away from the fire and to Link, spurring a reaction that he was hopelessly unprepared for.
Upon seeing him, the old man's eyes instantaneously widened with horror, and he sucked in a sharp gasp, his jaw dropping and his nostrils flaring. He shot to his feet with an agility that didn't suit him, drawing his walking stick like a sword and shoving it into Link's face.
"What monstrosity is this?!" the old man hissed through bared teeth, inspecting Link from head to toe.
Link froze at the man's unprovoked ferocity, tossing his hands up in submission. The fire reflecting in his eyes, as well as his imposing height, made the old man suddenly much more of a threat than before. The man looked about to beat him upside the head with his walking stick. With Link's strength and his youth, he thought he had a fighting chance should things come to that, but without a weapon, he felt defenseless. All that, of course — and the fact that he'd feel guilty attacking an old man — made him hesitant to retaliate.
But if it was in self-defense…? Perhaps he could justify it. In the end, he decided to drop the thought, instead focusing on a means to defuse the situation. He didn't want to cause any trouble.
Unsure of where to begin, Link remained silent under the man's volatile glare, only to give another flinch when he growled, "Speak, devil!"
"Devil?!" Link gasped. "What do you mean? I'm Link. I-I think…" That he wasn't entirely sure of, but it felt right. The name sounded perfect to him when the girl had whispered it — it had to be his name.
In spite of that, the old man was less than convinced. "Pah! Don't insult my intelligence, Ganon," he replied with a sneer. Link had no idea what he was talking about, but he could do nothing but listen. "I know the twisted forms you take. And I know Link. He sleeps in the Shrine, awaiting resurrection. You cannot fool me with this… abomination you have crafted in his image. Cease your lies! Reveal your true face, or begone!"
Link's brows furrowed at the man's words — he barked at him like he was some sort of mongrel. Abomination? Could he have been referring to the glowing bones shining through his skin? Granted, the sight had shocked even him, but Link felt that abomination was a bit harsh. He wasn't a monster. As for the Shrine… he knew for a fact he wasn't lying in it at the moment; he was being shouted at while staring down the wrong end of a walking stick.
"But I'm not lying! I am Link," he urged, only to add to the man's ire. "At least, that was what she told me — "
The old man's countenance softened for a moment, catching Link off-guard. The man blinked away some of his anger, his tight grip on the walking stick easing. His voice was considerably gentler when he said, "...She? Who exactly are you referring to?"
Link wished he knew. The reality of his hollow memory crushed him, his shoulders sinking beneath the weight of his longing. Of the thousands of questions suffocating his mind, that was the most burning: what was her name? He'd give anything to know it.
"I don't know," he finally sighed, his cheeks warm under the old man's fiery glare. "I wish I did. A voice came to me in the Shrine — a girl's voice. She woke me up, told me to grab a Slate. She said it would guide me."
As he spoke, the old man's gaze traveled to his hip, where the Sheikah Slate hung. His eyes widened again at the sight of it, growing foggy with memory for a moment, only to inevitably harden. His fuzzy brows knit together, accenting the lines of age and rage in his face. Lips pursing beneath his beard, his knuckles bulged around the walking stick, and he began to shake his head, denying all that he had seen and heard.
Before Link could get in another word to explain himself, the old man spat, "We have nothing more to discuss. If you are truly who you say, then your outward appearance betrays you." Link drew his chin back, aghast. He continued, with a noticeable wilt in his voice, "You are no more Link than I am a king. Good-bye."
With that, he withdrew his walking stick, left Link with a parting scowl, turned, and began walking down the hill.
Link gaped after him, his mind jammed beyond cognition. What an exchange that was. He was hoping to find answers to his questions, not uncover a dozen more. As frustrating and confusing as their conversation had been, Link had a strong impression that there were no other people around he could turn to. It was either facing the old man, or wallowing in his questions until they drove him insane.
He couldn't let an opportunity like this pass him by. He managed to free himself from his bewilderment and gave chase, shouting, "Wait! Please, I don't know what's going on, or where I am, or who I am! I just need some answers! Please?!"
The old man pretended not to hear him, walking undeterred. Even with his aged legs, he moved surprisingly quickly, keeping well ahead of Link. Link followed, nearly sprinting, down the grassy hill and onto a flight of rugged, mossy stone steps — a staircase peeking through the overgrowth. He was so focused on regaining the old man's attention that he scarcely noticed the gradual appearances of weathered, man-made structures emerging out of the greenery.
Still following the old man, he watched him turn a corner marked by a cracked stone monolith laced with vines. Link slapped a palm against the stone to gain some leverage, planning to slingshot around its edge to continue his pursuit. But the moment he came around, he skidded to a stop, his breath catching. He suddenly found himself alone, his only company the monolith, and the bed of rippling grass beneath it.
The old man had completely disappeared.
Astounded, Link tossed his head in all directions, his hair whipping around his neck as he scoured the area for any trace of his unfriendly neighbor. But no matter his search, he found nothing but still, tranquil nature around him. Not a darting shadow between the nearby oaks, nor the scraping of a retreating boot against the weathered bricks underfoot. The old man appeared to have vanished into silence and thin air.
Link was baffled. It made no sense. Where could he have possibly gone? Had he only imagined him? No, that couldn't have been. ...Or could it?
The thought sent a fearful chill up his spine; he suddenly didn't like the idea of being by himself, but not being entirely alone. Who knew what else was out here? Perhaps the old man was the least of his worries, if he had even been real.
But if he didn't exist, then who had lit the fire? The answer, among the many he sought, escaped Link. All the same, his skin prickled as if he were under the scrutiny of a thousand sets of eyes.
Taking another survey of his surroundings, he ground his jaw, now finding himself in need of a weapon — just on the off chance that the old man returned… or something worse. He doubted he'd find much in the way of defense in the glade of apple trees to his left, so he turned his sights on the church up the hill. There might have been something useful lying in its halls.
Mapping his way up the winding path to the church, he set off, all the while keeping a wary eye on the terrain. The scattered remains of old buildings and pillars made for ideal ambush points, so he kept his wits about him, ears piqued for any sounds of movement. He didn't want to get jumped by the old man, should he reappear and decide to carry out his aggression on him.
Link tried to put his strange encounter with the old man out of his mind, but he couldn't seem to shake it. It buzzed through his brain like a swarm of bees, angry and stinging and everywhere. The caustic disgust in his eyes filled Link with a sense of shame. What had he done to deserve that? Yes, the sight of his glowing bones was bizarre and unnatural, but his appearance hardly qualified him as a beast to be slain. He had done nothing to the old man to illicit that sort of behavior, but the way he treated him made it seem like he and Link were sworn enemies.
He didn't understand it, nor did he want to. Sighing through his nose, he pushed away the memory, pressing on. He hoped he'd never see the old man again.
As he made his way toward the church, he took a moment to admire the ruins he had absently stumbled into. They were a mysterious, if not thought-provoking, sight, materializing out of the undergrowth like ghosts. Time had beaten against the once-proud structures and stone walkways and staircases — all now baked and brittled by the sun and splotched with moss, silently overlooking the wild as it reclaimed them into its embrace.
Walking through the ruins instilled some reverence in Link, soothing his anxieties slightly. His mind wandered just as his feet did; he wondered who had once tread these paths, on what errands they had walked, the lives they had lead, their stories. The stillness of the stone made him pause to wonder why such a beautiful place had been abandoned; judging by the lush state of things, nobody had been there in quite some time. Where had everyone gone?
Yet more questions. They never seemed to end. He may not have known what happened there, but he didn't let the thought consume him. He had other engagements — finding a weapon, perhaps a shield, and gaining his bearings. Although he didn't know the answers, then, he would find out in due time. But for the moment, he was the sole, living occupant of the ancient abbey.
At length, he made his way to the final staircase before the church. He stopped himself on the landing, craning his neck back to behold the crumbling facade of the church in its entirety. It seemed to stretch into the sky, yet it crumbled in its efforts — half of the western wall had collapsed, exposing the inner hall and scattering bricks across the grass sprouting through the foundation.
He felt tiny in its shadow, but that didn't stop him from enjoying its classical, sophisticated architecture. The towering middle steeple made for a fantastic centerpiece, and the multitude of arched windows dashed across its faces undoubtedly once held intricate stained glass. Part of him could already picture it in his mind. It was a shame it was in such a state; the church was a ghost of its former self.
Eager to discover its secrets, he swiftly drove himself up the stairs and went inside. The colossal entrance seemed to swallow him, soon washing him in cool shade from the mostly-intact roof high above. The skeletal barrel vault held onto what scraps of the decaying ceiling it could, spilling shingles and framework onto the floor. He found with a strike of intrigue that the church was partially flooded, most likely from a recent storm.
Link tilted his head in awe, breathing in the damp smell of the water as it mingled with the fresh grass and wet stonework. Bits of the roof and supports jutted out from the smooth, mirror-like pond blanketing the entirety of the hall. It glittered in the dappled sunlight. The water perfectly reflected the sky through the broken ceiling, as well as the enormous statue situated at the farthest wall.
He couldn't quite make out what it was at that distance. He had to get a better look. For some reason, he was drawn to it, taking his first steps into the water without noticing how deep it actually was. Frigid water poured into his shoes, but he didn't care — he strode through the pond, casting ripples that drifted across the surface like echoes.
When he arrived, he sent a miniature tidal wave upon the short staircase at the statue's base, his shoes squelching with each step he took to meet it. The statue soared over him, nearly reaching the vaulted ceiling, though its dominance was nowhere near as intimidating as the old man had been.
No, the statue was his polar opposite: it portrayed a reverent, winged woman, her pleated dress and gentle, smiling features captured in stone.
The longer Link stood in the light of her smile, the quicker the statue seemed to transform before his eyes. Though her eyes were closed, he nevertheless felt her stony gaze upon him — perhaps it was a trick of the light against her face, but she gradually appeared to sadden, her smile fading.
Link's brow twisted — he thought he was seeing things. Shaking his head, he brought up his fingers to rub his eyes, only… his fingertips didn't meet skin. They met something rigid, almost like bone, surrounding his eyes like a mask.
His stomach dropped. What on earth was he touching? He wasn't aware that he had been wearing anything other than the old clothes and the Sheikah Slate. Curious – if not a tad concerned – he quickly brought his other hand up to his face, fingers investigating.
Things became stranger and stranger the more he prodded his face — his lips were normal, but where his nose should have been, something hard and blunt protruded, and it was lined underneath with a row of sharp points. Were those… were those teeth?! He traveled further up his face, to his cheekbones, only to find that they were just that — edged like bone, lacking smooth skin. Even stranger, he somehow felt the touch of his fingers, though he knew he wasn't touching skin. Almost as if the bone was his skin.
Panicking, he brought his hands up to his forehead, expecting soft locks of his hair. But he found the opposite: a pair of what felt like horns, sprouting from his hairline.
His breath had since accelerated to hyperventilating — he was starting to see stars. Whipping around, he tried to make his way down the stairs to find his reflection in the pond, only to trip over his own feet, plunging face-first into the water.
Sputtering on a mouthful, he lifted himself out of the pond on hand and knee, waiting for the surface to clear. His rampant breathing didn't help matters, fogging the surface. When at last the water settled, the face staring back at him ripped a ragged scream of terror out of his throat.
There was no escaping it — that was his face. His face. It was unreal.
He appeared to be wearing a demented masquerade mask crafted from bone, yet he somehow knew that it was his face, spanning from his below his hairline to just above his mouth, where it ended in a line of wicked incisors. His eyes were nothing more than amber slivers of light floating in a pair of slitted, pitch-black eye sockets. Rust-colored hair framed his new face, as well as trailing down his neck in a ponytail, and he was crowned with a set of small horns.
While the sight of his face alone nearly drove him mad, undoubtedly, the most nightmarish aspect of his new face was the third eye set into his forehead — as big as his fist, its cat-like iris gleamed with an evil light amidst sclera black as night, and it moved in-sync with his own two eyes. It lay in a bed of glowing magenta sludge — akin to what had spawned from his hands and infected the Sheikah Slate.
Link reared back, shredding the peaceful atmosphere apart with his screams. They echoed hauntingly against the ancient walls. Heart smashing against his ribcage, he scrambled away from the water, as if fleeing the reflection there would change him. He backed himself up the stairs until he slammed his head against the statue.
Wheezing, he brought his knees to his chest, clawing at his face. He ingrained his fingers into the bone, trying to find a gap he could attack — maybe if he just got it off, he would be fine. Yes. All he had to do was get it off. He dug at every corner, unable to get a grip, until his fingertips found the fang-laced edge. There was a bit of a gap to make room for his nostrils, and he foolishly attempted to slide his fingers under it. He quickly regretted it, one of the fangs lancing his fingertip open.
He withdrew his hands with a grimace, watching a fat drop of blood ooze out of his finger. No, not blood — more of the vibrant, magenta sludge. It was inside him. Surely, this was a nightmare. He couldn't look at it. He clenched his hand into a fist as a violent shudder tore through him.
Out of breath, Link promptly fell limp, staring emptily across the water. While his frantic thoughts clambered for solutions, he realized with dread that this was what the old man had reacted so strongly to: a monster in human form, wearing a crown of horn and bone, watching him with a trio of horrific eyes. It suddenly all made sense. His reaction, his hostility, his hatred. His words. Abomination.
"Maybe I really am a monster," Link breathed. For a moment or two, he began to believe it.
No, came a familiar voice.
Link nearly jumped out of his transparent skin. The voice had cut clean through his panic like a knife, giving him enough clarity to recognize it.
It was her. The girl from the Shrine. She had found him again. He thought her farewell at the Shrine was her last connection with him, but he was blissfully, wonderfully wrong. He thanked whatever higher powers there were for her timely return — it came not a moment too soon.
Link rocketed to his feet, eager to listen. She spoke again before he had the chance to reply.
You could never be a monster, Link. Let me show you what a true monstrosity is. Climb to the rooftop, and you will see.
He did as he was told without question. Whirling around, he leapt off the statue's altar, dunking into the pond with a mighty splash. He waded through the water and out of the gaping hole in the side of the church, scouring the dilapidated outer structures for a way up to the roof. Thankfully for his aching fingers, he wouldn't have to improvise a route up the pillars — a rickety ladder sat perched against a portion of the wall, practically godsend.
Darting forward, he scaled the ladder with ease, arriving at the roof of the church. He carefully climbed the steep a-frame coated in fragile shingles and avoided the collapsing rooftop, balancing his way across the main support beam and towards the church's front. There awaited the central steeple, and at its center, the belfry. That seemed like a decent vantage point for whatever the girl wanted to show him.
As quickly as he could hoist himself up, he rushed to his feet inside the small, square belfry, where he waited, listening, for a moment. Birds chirped in the trees far below, a soft breeze cooling the sweat slicking the back of his neck. While awaiting her voice, he slowly strode over to the empty window panes, peering through them at the wild laid out below. He could see for miles, spotting several landmarks he had found upon exiting the Shrine — the twin peaks, the volcano, and ultimately, the distant castle.
He squinted at it — something seemed off about it. Was that… a light, shimmering in the castle's silhouette?
Just when he was at his most curious, her voice found him again.
Try, Link… she began, her words trickling into his brain like clear water. Try to remember. Your memories, they faded during your slumber in the Shrine of Resurrection. You must remember your time from before, if you are to liberate Hyrule from the monster that wishes to devour it.
To his amazement, the light beamed brighter. That had to have been her, trapped within the castle. He knew it, somehow. Part of him died inside at that realization. She was so far away, and in pain, it seemed.
She explained, You have been asleep for the past one hundred years, awaiting the day when your wounds would heal, and you would rise.
One hundred years?! Link couldn't wrap his mind around it — it didn't seem possible, and yet, the way in which she said it made him believe.
That day has finally come, she said. And just as you rose, so did… the beast.
Link's heart skipped a beat as a massive tremor rocked the earth, nearly sending him tumbling out of the belfry. Thankfully, he regained his balance, turning his eyes toward the castle, again. He couldn't believe his eyes when he witnessed a tremendous bank of writhing, vile black clouds surge from beneath the castle, tendrils of glowing magenta light swirling inside them. He knew that color all too well — it sent a shudder down his spine. To his dismay, the clouds consumed the castle voraciously, stuttering her radiance.
Then the clouds began to coalesce into a shape: a monumental shadow of a creature he had never seen, but that nevertheless ignited a righteous petrification in his body. It shot through his veins like ice, twisting his gut and piercing his brain with a powerful dagger of fear.
Calamity Ganon, she breathed.
It released a demonic, unholy roar that thundered mightily through the land, rattling his bones and sending him to his knees. He dug his fingertips into his hair and groaned in agony as his head exploded with pain, his ears ringing — but he couldn't pull his eyes from the monster shaping itself into fruition in the skies around the castle. It seemed to have a grasp on his gaze, preventing him from turning away. It wanted him to bask in its corrupted glory.
Through his bleary, pain-streaked vision, he recognized its features — the toxic magenta glow cascading along the smog came to two curved points that jutted out of its fiendish jaws. Tusks. Horns. It didn't matter what they were. They still paralyzed him. And trained precisely on him were two blood-chilling, unblinking eyes, golden in their color, but malicious in their radiance.
Calamity Ganon was watching him. He cowered beneath its piercing gaze.
When her voice graced him again, it soothed his raging headache and sent the beast into a retreat. Nevertheless, she warned, When the beast regains his true power, this world will face its end, and all souls on it will become his. He will consume. Consume everything. And everyone.
Pushed back by his warden, Calamity Ganon offered Link one final stare before her light dispelled him, returning him to the confines of Hyrule Castle. This wouldn't be the final time they saw each other, and it looked forward to seeing him again.
The beast's absence left Link on his knees, soaked in sweat and clutching his head, his breath erratic. He thought his heart would burst in his chest. The thought of facing that monstrosity left him weak, unable to think, and hopelessly afraid. How could she have such faith in him? How could she trust him to do this?
As fear began to chew its way inside him, the girl returned, however briefly, to offer him motivation.
Please. You must hurry, Link, she pled.
Before it's too late…
So, any thoughts? How do you like my tweaks? I'm having a blast writing this.
Thanks again for tuning in, and keep your eyes open for the next chapter! See you then!
v.1.2