Hey, my peeps!

Oh my gosh, I am SO SORRY for the delayed update! I had the craziest weekend of my life, and I had zero time to write. Sadly, this chapter is a day off of schedule, but I made it a bit longer (and even more exciting!) than last chapter, so I hope I can make it up to you. I've been looking forward to this chapter for so long and I can't wait for you to read it.

I won't blather on. Enjoy! :) Thank you for your patience!

Before he brought himself to enter Kakariko proper, Link exchanged a long, tense glance with the final gatepost guarding the entrance of the village. His stomach squirmed as he fell under the inanimate scrutiny of a slew of Sheikah eye symbols, one carved into the wooden archway, the rest painted on canvas flags slapping in the wind. Their stares slowed his pace, wrenching his attention onto them for a moment or two without his control.

Almost as if wanting to expose him to the eyes, a gust of wind slipped its fingers beneath his hood, threatening to toss it off his head. Though no one was around to see, he quickly caught it before it did, jumping a little at the wind's gusto, a shudder settling over him. Perhaps it was an omen to what was coming? Though his mind tried to tease the thought and send him spiraling into a panic, he forced himself not to dwell on his paranoia.

Ever since he first fell under its gaze, he couldn't quite fathom why the eye of the Sheikah instilled such a reaction in him — it seemed to hate him, critical of his every move. But he wouldn't let something as simple as a symbol stop him from doing his duty to Hyrule. Shaking it off, he grit his jaw and secured his hood down, giving the eyes one final stare before proceeding under the archway.

If he was being honest with himself, Link wasn't sure what awaited him in Kakariko. King Rhoam had been quite vague on that. Judging by the overgrown desolation of Hyrule he had seen, he expected to stumble into a community ravaged by the Great Calamity. But to his surprise, he found just the opposite.

Link came to a stop before a low fence at the crest of a winding, breezy hill. Far below him, he beheld a lush, thriving, close-knit village nestled in the heart of a valley. Nearly a dozen houses with domed rooftops speckled the terraces amongst the trees, long lines of flags and clattering wooden wind chimes connecting them. He spotted a few squares of earth lined with crops here and there and a cucco coop, as well as a pair of thin waterfalls cascading behind the largest house at the rear of the village. The breeze curling off of the valley's sheer walls carried with it the fresh, floral undertones of cherry blossoms and robust wood smoke.

Eyes widening, he lingered there for a while, drinking in Kakariko. It wasn't anything like the crumbling ruins he had woken up to: peaceful, humble… alive. The village was certainly an inviting sight, but the longer he took it in, the more he began to worry if he was welcome there.

By that time, the sun had already set behind the horizon, the mountaintops casting thick shadows over the village below. As darkness began to gradually creep in, Link's eyes flew to the figures appearing from out of their homes. One by one, he watched them walk along their porches and spark up blooms of warm, orange light to chase away the night — lanterns.

It appeared everyone was retiring for the evening. While that might have given him an advantage as far as avoiding encounters went, he wasn't sure where to even begin to find Impa, the elder. But with another quick run-over of the village, he figured the best place to begin his search would be the largest house near the waterfalls. The trail would take him right to it. Even if Impa wasn't there — and he believed she might have been, what with her title — then the house's occupant ought to know where to look… if he didn't strike them speechless first.

Again, the thought of his face made him reconsider every option he had. Would he sneak through the village? Walk out in the open? Loudly proclaim that he was looking for Impa? He wasn't sure which would help — or hurt — him the most. He gripped the fence in one hand, drumming his fingers against his bone mask with the other. Depending on how this went, he made a mental note to find a disguise of some sort to hide his wicked trio of eyes and glowing bones and horns. But for the moment, he had no choice but to wear his face for all to see.

Though the image of his face still concerned him, Link shook out the pessimism clouding his head. He had no idea how the Sheikah would react to him, but there was only one way to find out. He had to be prepared for anything — including a highly unlikely warm welcome. Exhaling his resignations, he began to walk down the hill, his heartbeat following his brisk, anxious steps.

The trek down only filled him with nausea and dread, his eyes on constant alert, flickering between every moving object. From the leaves fluttering in the trees to the flags waving overhead, he met each with a clenching of his muscles and a stutter of his heart. Every false alarm only exhausted him, his nerves wearing thin. Whether he wanted to or not, he couldn't have made it to the village's heart fast enough; he picked up his pace in spite of his terror screaming at him not to.

Thankfully for his sanity, he managed to pass by the first houses on his way down without incident, though his ears pricked to hear the voices inside. Though they were muffled, he still heard the life within them: male and female, young and old, happy and tired, all welcoming in the coming night amongst friends and family. It was both fascinating and heartbreaking being an outsider listening in. Part of him craved human contact, but the other abhorred it; the resulting confusion only made his stomach twist.

Pressing on, Link left behind a pumpkin patch, the house with the coop — teeming with a crowd of clucking cuccos — and a clothing store with a closed sign hanging from its door knob. All clear so far. As he descended deeper into Kakariko, the valley stretched towards the sky around him, as did the houses. Yet as big as the regular houses were, they were eclipsed by the largest house by the waterfalls, in both its size and its presence.

He was nearly there, but being the size that it was, he could easily admire it from that distance. The broad, two-story house was perched on an outcrop of land jutting from the small, shimmering lake beneath it. It stood out as the grandest of them all, with a swooping, pagoda-like roof. A wooden staircase lead up to the wraparound porch, with a wrought-iron sculpture of the Sheikah eye hanging above its front facade. Several stout, stone figures huddled in a row beside the staircases' gateway, the nearby torches scattering their small shadows across the grass. Link watched lanterns glow to life in the windows, lit by a figure he couldn't make out.

His eyes were still trained on the ornate house when he finally arrived at the heart of Kakariko. It was only when he registered the voices sounding from nearby did he realize there were actually people around. He choked on his shaky breath, his eyes immediately flying to them and sending a jolt through him.

Quickly, he dove behind an old tree stump, tall and wide enough to hide him. Peering around its mossy bark, he studied the scene before him, piecing together a good means of approach.

There were three men standing in the wide courtyard before the house. One of them, the closest to Link, was busying himself with folding up an easel, a paintbrush behind his ear, with a square canvas propped up on his leg. He had his back to Link, muttering something about finding a good place for his painting to dry. He appeared to be an older gentleman, judging by his silvery hair and the faded, leathery tattoo on his shoulder.

The other two men seemed to be close to his age, as well. They had their white hair pulled into buns atop their heads, and they sported fair, aged skin and facial hair. Both were dressed in loose, cream-colored coats laced with crimson stripes, form-fitting pants and sandals, and curved woven-fiber hats. As Link admired their curious attire, his eyes immediately found the swords sheathed at their hips, his lips pursing.

Based upon their position in front of the large house, as well as their weapons, Link could only assume they were guards. And where there were guards, there were people of importance to protect. Impa must have been inside. Now, it was only a matter of getting to her… through them. He hoped he wouldn't have to resort to drawing his weapons to do so. The last thing he wanted was to cause trouble. It seemed his safest option was to approach them slowly and unarmed.

Here goes nothing, he thought.

In only a few heartbeats, Link's veins ran alight with adrenaline, anticipating his next move; he remained planted in his place for a moment, waiting. As the painter gathered his canvas and hoisted his easel onto his shoulder, he bade the two guards goodnight, heading off towards what looked like an inn. Whether Link liked it or not, that was his cue. Wiping off the sweat slicking his palms, he emerged from his cover, willing his leaden legs to bring him to the pair of guards; a more than difficult task, considering how his body trembled against his will.

The taller man with the pointed beard noticed him first. He cut off mid-sentence in his conversation with the shorter guard with the pronounced sideburns, doing a double-take. On reflex, Link tilted his face downward, concealing his bone mask with his hood. Though he couldn't see them react to him, he nevertheless heard them, and it brought back memories he would have rather forgotten.

The unmistakable metallic hiss of two brandished swords rang through the night air, stopping Link completely. He didn't need to see the blades to know that they were out and at the ready. His shoulders tensing, he showed his hands in hopes of peace, remaining silent.

He struggled to maintain even breathing when one of them barked, "You there! Outsider! How dare you trespass near Lady Impa's home?!"

Unsure of how to explain himself, Link held his tongue.

There was a short pause before the other guard murmured, "Cado, look… His-his arms…"

Link winced. Somehow he knew that was coming. His fingers rolled into fists involuntarily, glowing bones folding over themselves in a mess of marrow.

Cado, the tall man, replied with a weak, "What in the name of Hylia…?" He then sputtered, "Wait — is… is that the Sheikah Slate?"

Link's eyes widened at their words, his gaze flying to the Slate on his hip. Could it be that they were expecting him?

The second guard, completely taken back, said, "But that would mean he is… No, it's not possible, but… can it be?" Slowly, he continued, "Show us your face… stranger."

Link had a sinking feeling, but he complied nonetheless. With a sigh, he raised his head, meeting the guard's gazes with all three of his wicked, glowing amber eyes.

Though he didn't blame them, their reactions still pierced him to his core; he didn't think he'd ever get used to this treatment. Like King Rhoam before them, they both pitched back in horror at the sight of his face, jaws dropping, their eyes as wide as full moons. Without allowing him a word, they both pointed their swords toward his chest — the shorter guard's sword rattled in his shaky hands.

"W-whatever you are, dark creature, why have you come to our fair village?!" Cado stammered. "Answer me, or I will spill your blood!"

Though barely able to even out the vibrato in his voice, Link stated, slowly, "Please, I'm not here to hurt anyone. My name is Link — I came from the Shrine of Resurrection. I am a former champion of Hyrule and Princess Zelda's appointed knight."

The two guards watched him speak, paralyzed, as though he were dripping with the blood of their families. Even so, he continued, "I was sent by the spirit of King Rhoam to speak to Impa. He said she would guide me. If you would just step aside and allow me to see her — "

But the shorter guard had heard enough. He spat, cutting Link off, "Over my dead body, we will! Do you honestly expect us to believe that? That's a filthy Yiga lie if I ever heard one."

Link blinked under the accusation, only he had no idea what he was talking about. Yiga? Was that some kind of name? All he could do was watch, braced for the worst, as the two men proceeded to argue, his mind racing with questions.

"Dorian," Cado said. "You can't possibly think he's a Yiga member — not with that face! I've never seen a Yiga look like that; he looks like a monster in human form! An agent of Ganon, perhaps?"

The shorter guard, who Link now knew as Dorian, responded, "Ganon or not, you know the Yiga's craft and deceit. Now that they're running out of ways to fool us, it wouldn't surprise me if they sent this miserable freak to throw us off our guard."

Freak. Link hadn't heard that one yet. He recoiled, grinding his jaw and swallowing a lump in his throat. Whether or not they noticed him visibly falter at the name, it didn't matter. That was all the explanation Cado needed. His eyes hardening, he refocused his attention on Link, tightening his grip on his sword.

Before Link could continue to make his case, Dorian bore his teeth with a glare, growling, "You're coming with us, hero. We'll be having that Slate back."

"Wait, what?!" Link gasped.

Without provocation, they pounced on him, seizing him by the shoulders and pushing the flat of their blades against his throat. He immediately froze, unable to escape as they held him fast and began to drag him towards the stairs.

"Please — no, no, no, please! I'm not here to hurt Impa! I just want to speak with her!" he cried, digging his heels into the grass. Despite his efforts, they wrenched him along with impressive strength, forcing him to follow their steps as they climbed the staircase.

"You can take my weapons if you want to, I just want to talk!" Link offered, to no avail.

"Save your breath, beast," Dorian snarled in his ear. "You don't have many left."

This wasn't how Link wanted to meet with Impa at all — again demonized for his appearance, dragged in like an animal awaiting slaughter. Panic exploded inside him with each step he took, his mind jumping ahead to every worst possible scenario he could imagine. He prayed Impa might recognize him and spare him a terrible fate, but he wasn't counting on it. Not with the way he looked. Depending on how this meeting played out, he thought he might have to fight his way out of Kakariko if he wanted to leave with his life.

The three of them struggled up the staircase and finally arrived at the porch. Cado and Dorian, holding Link steady, both reared a leg back and bashed the double doors in with their feet, demolishing the peaceful atmosphere of Impa's house with an almighty crash.

The doors swung open to reveal a spacious room bathed in warm candle- and lantern-light, shadows playing off of the flags, talismans, and Sheikah eye symbols crowning the perimeter. Several rows of cushions lined the floor, facing a central altar at the back of the room, where two women lingered, jerking their heads over towards the doorway. The younger of the two gave a squeak at the trio's bombastic entrance.

"Lady Impa!" Dorian shouted as they dragged Link inside. They didn't falter until they reached the center of the room, where Dorian proceeded to shove his knee into Link's back, forcing him to kneel on the rug. Link did so with a grunt, his arms throbbing from their vise-grip cutting off his circulation. Cado ensured Link kept kept his head down and his eyes on the floor, the blade of his sword scratching against Link's Adam's apple.

"We bring an intruder!" Dorian announced.

"Oh? An intruder, you say?" a frail, female voice wondered. Link's ears perked at it — aged as it was, it was gentle and sweet, a drastic change from the harsh tones of the guards. It felt familiar to him, somehow.

"Yes, Lady Impa," Cado said. "He attempted to bypass us to speak with you. Claims himself to be the one we've been waiting for."

After a pause, Impa mused, "Link, hm? I see… Well, how am I to know if this intruder is in fact Link, if I cannot see his face? Please, remove his hood so I may see him."

No one, not even Link, moved for several solid moments of silence. He held his breath, readying himself for the impending shock. He hoped his appearance wouldn't kill the poor woman. He tried to wriggle free of their hands, but they fastened their hold on him.

"Why do you hesitate?" Impa prodded. "Remove his hood, please. I would like to see his face."

Dorian and Cado exchanged a rigid glance. "If you insist," Dorian murmured.

Link felt his fingers burrow into his hair through the hood. Without preparing Impa and the young woman beforehand, Dorian tore the hood off of Link's head, exposing him, horns, eyes, and all.

Though they had already seen him, Dorian and Cado nevertheless stiffened. Meanwhile, Impa and the young woman both gasped audibly, cowering. The girl, stood beside Impa, had been holding a ceramic tea set placed on a tray. Upon seeing Link, her face went ashen and she dropped everything in her hands, the cups and teapot shattering and splashing tea across the floorboards. The sound only raked across everyone's suddenly-ragged nerves, agitating the very air.

Now that they were face-to-face, Link was able to get a good look at the two women. The girl's posture made her seem like a wounded animal — shivering, she held her arms close to her torso and covered her face with her hands, peeking between her fingers at him. Though she was young, perhaps near his age, she, too, had silky, pale white hair, draped down the back of her ivory coat, as well as perched atop her head in a bun secured with chopsticks. She wore similar clothes to Dorian and Cado, but Link found with awe that she had the Sheikah eye painted on her forehead in scarlet. She had a kind, innocent face and cool brown eyes — it was a shame Link's face brought her such mortal terror.

The woman seated next to her was, undoubtedly, Impa. As he looked upon her, he thought back on what King Rhoam had stated: that she was his trusted advisor. If that was true, then Impa had to have been well over one hundred years old, a fact that boggled Link's mind. Her age manifested itself in her tiny frame and in the tapestry of wrinkles and liver spots scattered across her skin. She had her snowy hair pulled back into a low bun above her coat, and she knelt on a collection of plush cushions on the altar, her hands tangled in her lap as she took in Link's face. Just as the young woman did, Impa also bore a deep purple Sheikah eye on her forehead. Her dark, weary eyes searched him ceaselessly from beneath an overlarge conical hat with cast iron Sheikah eyes dripping from its brim.

For several moments, Impa stared mutely at Link. He began to sweat under her ancient gaze, praying for her to know him in spite of his appearance. As much as he strained to recall memories of her, he came up short. All he could manage to do was offer her a crooked, feeble smile.

Cado broke the silence first. "Lady Impa… don't tell us you recognize this creature — it's inhuman. This couldn't possibly be the hero you told us about. Unless…?" He tilted his head, squinting at her, stunned at her reaction to him.

Link's rising hopes were dashed in an instant as Impa tiredly replied, "No… No, I don't recognize him. He is not the Link I knew one hundred years ago."

"I knew it!" Dorian said, looking down his nose at Link as he knelt limply on the floor, crushed. "I knew he wasn't who he claimed to be — he's no doubt a Yiga assassin, Lady Impa! Sent to slit our throats as we lie in bed!" He then drew his sword up to Link's chin, growling, "Let me take his head off, right here and now… and end his cursed existence."

A bead of sweat crawled down Link's neck as the tip of Dorian's sword tempted his skin. While Link tensed into stone at that, the girl gave a wheezy gasp and slapped her hands over her eyes.

She shrilly begged, "Hahh, p-please don't!"

"Not here, Dorian," Impa said before Dorian could act, her voice gaining a stern edge.

"You're right," he grunted, reluctant. Another ray of hope shone on Link, however briefly, before Dorian added, "I'll take him to the cliffs, do it there. Leave his body for the wolves…"

"You won't be doing that, either," Impa said before Link could panic again. "He doesn't deserve that."

Dorian was floored, his nostrils flaring in defiance. "But he's a Yiga assassin! He must be killed before he can kill us!" Again, he pressed his sword closer to Link, the freezing blade prickling his skin. "It's the only way we can exterminate these traitors! One by one."

Throughout Dorian's rather violent ordeal, Impa remained collected, her little hands clasped, talking him down like a parent would a rowdy child. "Yes, but if he were an assassin, do you think he would have casually strolled into your laps like he did?"

Both Dorian and Cado took pause, their brows furrowing. Dorian frowned into the rug, gears in his mind grinding. "Er… no, I suppose not…" he mumbled.

Impa's eyes shone with a centuries-worth of knowledge and experience. She said lowly, "Dorian, you know better than anyone how the Yiga operate — the only trace they leave of their presence is spilled blood and ghastly silence."

Darkness consumed Dorian's eyes at that, and his shoulders slumped. His grip on Link's arm constricted until his veins began to go numb. The old man pursed his lips and fell quiet, staring into the rug. Link briefly wondered what Impa had meant by that.

Impa continued after a moment, returning her gaze to Link, "No, he is not of the Yiga, but he is, however, of interest to us." She then gestured to the burning red eye of the Sheikah Slate on his hip. "Where did you come upon that device?"

Link never got the chance to reply, for Cado did so for him. He said, "Most likely stolen from the real Link, I presume."

Before Impa had the opportunity to ask for it, Cado stooped and snatched it from Link's belt, releasing his hold on him and leaving him under the watch of Dorian. As he walked away with the Slate, something primal abruptly reared itself inside Link, sending him into a desperation for it. He couldn't explain what seized him so suddenly; his emotions boiled to a fever pitch inside him, the eye on the Slate blazing with a familiar magenta light that seemed to call to him.

Take it back, it commanded.

"Wait — I need that!" Link wheezed, reaching for it, only to be held back by Dorian. The old man strained to hold Link down by himself as Link got to his feet, fighting against his grip to get the Slate. "That was Zelda's — she trusted me with it!" Link insisted. "Please, give it back!"

"This artifact belongs to the Sheikah — not to you," Cado scorned, tucking it close to his chest. The Slate only called to Link louder the further it drifted from him, bursting with more and more light. Oblivious, Cado turned and resumed walking toward Impa, ready to give it to her.

"No, you don't understand!" An intense wave of cold rage mutated Link's panic into anger, then, his heart rampaging in his chest. "Let me go, Dorian!" he growled, his voice adopting something that wasn't him.

But the old man didn't listen. He had since dropped his sword and was hopelessly restraining Link with both hands, going red in the face against the young man's unprecedented strength. As Link powered against him, everyone in the room — except for Link himself — began to gape at his bones through his transparent skin. An intense magenta light coursed through them, growing brighter by the second, bolstering his power.

As Cado held the Slate before Impa — who had turned her gaze on them — Link grabbed hold of Dorian's forearm, his teeth bared. His touch sent a shiver across the Sheikah's spine.

"I said — LET. ME. GO!" Link bellowed, shoving Dorian away from him as though he were nothing but a breeze.

Following a nauseous, ear-splitting crack, Dorian rocketed across the room into the wall, bashing his head against it with a mighty boom. When he crumbled to the floor, he curled into a ball, a hoarse howl ripping out of him as he brought his hand to his right forearm, clutching it.

Time seemed to hold its breath for everyone in the room as they all turned their heads towards Dorian. Before Link had the chance to take back the Slate, something inside him suddenly retreated deeper into him, leaving him lightheaded as he set his eyes on the man he had sent flying with barely any effort. As Dorian wailed, his face twisted, Link came to the horrific realization that he didn't know his own strength.

What had he done?

He gasped and stumbled back from the sight of Dorian, shaking from head to foot, beginning to hyperventilate. "I didn't mean it… I didn't mean to do that…" he breathed, his jaw hanging open. He brought his eyes into his bony hands, watching the brilliant magenta light fade from this bones, reverting back to normal.

With that single shove, Link had snapped Dorian's forearm completely in half. It flopped into his lap, his skin already swelling and bruising beneath his sleeve.

Hoping to somehow help, Link took several shaky steps towards Dorian, arms outreached. "Dorian, I-I'm so sorry, I — " he began, only to get cut off as Dorian opened his eyes to find his inadvertent attacker standing over him.

"DON'T TOUCH ME, YOU MONSTER!" he screamed, spitting at Link. He scooted away as much as he could, keeping his fiery gaze trained on him. "Don't you dare come any closer!"

Heart shattering in his chest, Link stepped back, his blood running cold. He thought he might dart out the front door to escape the gruesome scene, but soon found himself with the tip of a sword pressed into his back. Knowing he wouldn't leave without the Sheikah Slate, he froze in his spot, bringing his hands up in surrender.

Cado, positioned behind him, endeavored to control the violent shudder that had overcome him, straining to keep his sword straight. "What do you suggest we do with him, Lady Impa?" he wondered reverently, worried the creature before him would whirl around and attack.

A quiet voice trickled through the thick, heavy atmosphere, barely registering to Link's ears as he gaped at what he had done.

"Take him upstairs, Cado, to the attic," Impa began. "Chain him up with the old shackles, keep him there until dawn. We'll speak again then."

"Yes, my lady," Cado said, gingerly reaching out and taking Link by the shoulder, pressing his sword into his back.

Link didn't fight it that time. He didn't have the strength for it. He turned his body toward the staircase situated behind Impa, but his eyes remained on Dorian, even as they walked to the stairs.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he continued to mutter, only he wasn't sure if he was apologizing to Dorian… or to himself. "I'm so, so sorry."

As Link climbed the stairs with Cado shadowing him, he caught one last glance of Dorian's face, glistening with sweat. The mask of hatred he wore shook Link to his core.

If Dorian had wanted to kill him before, then he certainly was hellbent on doing so, then.

Ta-daaah! I hope it was worth the wait. I had such a great time writing this out. Here's where the story starts getting on its legs and running!

So, any thoughts? Predictions? Feelings? Comments? Concerns? I'd love to hear your feedback! I must say, this chapter is one of my favorites, so far. I loved writing Dorian's dialogue and the scene where Link, erm... goes a bit beast-like.

Again, thank you for being patient with the update and reading my work. I love each and every one of you and I couldn't ask for a better audience.

Until next chapter (which won't be late - promise!)! See you then!