No, this is not an April Fool's track - it's the real deal! Corrupted Hero chapter 9 is HERE, baby! Yahoo!

Okay, allow me to explain why I disappeared for 2 months. I am SO FREAKING sorry! Unfortunately, life happened and it kinda happened all at one. But it's good news, so don't worry! I got promoted at my job, and I've been having a blast with my new position. I've been traveling, getting tons of work done... it's been amazing. But, that meant that I had NO time to write. Thankfully, now that things are calming down, I'll be getting back into the swing of writing. Hurray!

I won't ramble much longer, but I just wanted to give every one of my amazing readers a colossal, heartfelt THANK YOU for giving me so much support, even in my absence. I couldn't ask for better friends. For all you dedicated readers, this is for you!

Notice how this chapter is LONG. Let me tell you, it was one of my favorites to write. This one is the longest by far, and it's chock-full! I can't wait to present it. Let's just hope it was worth the 2-month wait. Also, did you notice the new cover? Freaking sweet, right?!

Anyway, thanks again for your patience and support.

Please, enjoy chapter 9 of Corrupted Hero!

Before Cado could grab Link and shove him out the door, Impa insisted on feeding him a decent breakfast, stating that he'd need all the strength he could get to take on the odd jobs around the village. That didn't inspire Link with confidence for the coming day, but he figured he had to put in hard work to make up for what he'd done. He was astonished at Impa's hospitality, but, not wishing to be rude — and in need of a means to quiet his moaning stomach — he humbly accepted her offer.

Cado, however, disproved, though he held his tongue; he wouldn't dare impose on Impa's decision. Standing back, he watched over the two of them with his arms folded and his mouth warped into a frown as Impa procured their breakfast. Link did his best to ignore the old man's scowl bearing into the side of his head as he dined with her.

Even under Cado's scrutiny, Link rather enjoyed Impa's company. She smiled warmly across the table at him, looking upon him like a treasured grandson come to visit. Amidst light conversation about the weather and her comments on his ratty clothes, she refilled his teacup several times with an earthy, slightly sweet Sheikah tea, encouraging him to take second helpings of the meal they shared.

He didn't object to her offer. He had never tasted anything like it — a bed of steamed rice beneath a plump, piping-hot omelette stuffed with meaty chunks of pumpkin, onion, and thick carrot slices. The omelette was hearty and satisfying, bursting with rich, rooty flavor and salted to perfection. He didn't mind in the slightest taking another, all the while thanking Impa repeatedly for her kindness.

He was so enthralled with his meal that he didn't notice her studying him as he ate. In utter silence, Impa took in his mannerisms and his heartfelt thanks, archiving them in her mind. His appetite and manners certainly aligned with the person in her memory, but his alarming appearance, as well as his actions from the night before, betrayed who he seemed to be. Impa wasn't entirely convinced of his identity, but she thought she'd wait and see what the day brought. Thankfully for her, she had eyes everywhere. He'd be well watched over.

After Link cleared his plate and thanked Impa for the umpteenth time, Cado grew impatient. He stepped forward, grunting, "It's nearly eight o'clock. The chores won't do themselves, you know."

Part of Link saddened at his persistence — he didn't want to leave Impa just yet. She made him feel more welcome than he had ever felt, before. Truly, he felt at home for the first time in a century. But in spite of his desires, he knew he couldn't mingle with her forever. Though Cado had phrased it gruffly, he was right; Link had a job to do — several, as a matter of fact.

Impa seemed to feel the same. She sighed, her bright countenance fading. "I suppose you're right, Cado." She faced Link with a shrug. "It appears our time together is up. Run along and get some work done, now. I'll see you again in a little while. Work hard, and we just might do this again."

Link rose to his feet, giving her an indebted smile, his heart as warm as his stomach. He found himself bowing slightly in gratitude to her. "I'd like that," he said. "Thank you, again, Lady Impa, for your hospitality. I sincerely appreciate it."

She left him with a parting smile of her own, a sparkle glinting in her eyes. "You are most certainly welcome, Link."

He paused for half a moment, stunned by the way she said his name. There was a fond familiarity in it that stirred something inside him. Almost as if… she knew him.

He never got the chance to think deeper on it, however, as Cado wasted no time in putting him to work. Taking Link by the shoulder, Cado whirled him around and steered him away from Impa and towards the door. Link kept pace with him as they hustled in silence across the carpet. He grew a tad worried along the way about being left alone with the old man; there was no telling what he would do outside the watch of his elder.

Link soon realized that he had every right to be worried — as soon as they passed through the door's threshold, Cado abruptly wrenched Link across the porch and out of Impa's view. Without warning, he forced Link against the porch's railing and yanked him close by the collar, his brows knit together and his eyes ablaze.

Link gasped and cowered beneath the old Sheikah, his heart stuttering. He suddenly became acutely aware of how vulnerable he was without a weapon. All he could do was listen in petrified silence as Cado unleashed his bottled-up anger upon him, hatred dripping from every word.

Lowering his voice, Cado growled, "Listen here, beast — what you did last night was nothing short of barbaric. I spent all night with Dorian, witnessing firsthand the pain you caused him as he screamed while we realigned his bones." He jammed a finger into Link's face, making him flinch. "If you even think about harming anyone else in this village, I will personally see to it that your blood and brains paint the walls of this valley! If you try anything, anything at all, I will know." Eyes tightening, he continued, slowly, "Do I make myself clear?"

Link's blood chilled under Cado's venomous warning. His breath wavering, he shrunk away from the man's face as much as he was allowed. He nodded timidly, his jaw locked and his eyes wide.

But that wasn't good enough for him. "I want you to say it!" Cado demanded, pounding Link's back against the railing till it creaked. "I said, do I make myself clear?!"

"Yes! Yes, completely!" Link stammered, his spine aching in its extreme curve as Cado bore down on him, glaring knives.

A moment of intense silence followed as Cado sifted through Link's petrified expression. He found only submission and fear in his glowing eyes and in the sweat trickling down from beneath his bone mask. Just what he wanted. To intimidate the beast.

Cado snorted. "It appears you have some sense in that vile mind of yours, after all. But do not mistake Lady Impa's hospitality. I do not trust you. We do not trust you. You are only alive because she sees something in you that the rest of us don't.

"You have much to do, beast," Cado continued. "Don't keep my people waiting. Now, get out of my sight before I do something I shouldn't." With one final sneer, he shoved Link towards the stairs, nearly sending him tumbling down them. Turning, Cado strode toward Impa's door and began to make his way inside, his fists tight.

Though desperate to get away from him and his wrath, Link hesitated before leaving. "Wait!" he called, making Cado whip around. Forcing his voice out, Link asked, "Could I at least get my hood back? Please? I-I don't want to... frighten anyone…"

Cado, his hands on both doors, cocked a brow. "What for?" he replied. "They've already been warned you're coming."

With that, he threw the doors shut with a boom, leaving Link to his own devices.

Link lingered on the porch for a moment or two out of sheer paralysis, the cool morning air turning the sheet of sweat on his skin to ice. He shivered, his mind reeling with Cado's harsh words. Although, if he paused to think on it, he supposed could understand his hostility. Link hadn't exactly made a good first impression.

Still, he had no earthly idea what to expect when he set to work throughout the village. Would the villagers be terrified of him, scurrying away before he had the chance to help? Or would they abuse him like a criminal, just as Cado had? Link didn't like the prospect of either, but he knew that Impa had work for him to do. He'd at least keep his promise to her; she hadn't treated him like he was subhuman.

Swallowing his dread at what was to come, he turned and looked upon the village, wondering where to begin. From Impa's porch, he could make out the nearby inn and what looked like a pair of shops to his right. Along the trail up the hill lay several houses, including the one with the cucco coop, as well as the clothing store. He couldn't see any of the villagers yet, but he figured he'd make his rounds from the bottom of the valley upwards and see where that took him.

Perhaps he'd check if the innkeeper needed anything first?

Anxious as he was in the wake of Cado's threats, Link still found solace in the quiet, tranquil morning as he set off toward the inn. A healthy breeze rustled through the grass and played with the clinking wooden banners strung overhead, the lingering smell of extinguished fires and dew tickling his senses. All around him, songbirds chirped above the telltale squawking of cuccos welcoming in the new day, the patchy clouds overhead aglow with the tawny light of dawn. No matter what happened, Link still felt he could appreciate the natural beauty around him. At least nature wouldn't shy away from his appearance or spit in his face.

He was halfway across the grassy courtyard when the door of the inn swung open, out walking a somewhat familiar face. Link's pace slowed as he recognized the white, brush-like updo and faded tattoo belonging the painter he had seen the night before.

Oblivious to Link, the painter strolled out of the inn, taking a deep lungful of the morning air, a blissful smile on his lips. With a fresh canvas, a bucket of brushes and paints, and his easel under his arms, he looked ready to begin a new painting, his eyes scanning the area for a good reference.

That was… until he noticed Link. The painter stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes going wide and his relaxation fleeing in an instant. Horrified by the horned, dark figure walking toward him, he dropped everything he was carrying and darted back into the inn like a bolt of lightning, slamming the front door behind him.

Link ground to a halt at the man's frantic reaction. His shoulders drooped, a groan escaping him. He wasn't looking forward to inadvertently terrorizing Kakariko's populace. But there was nothing to be done about that. He'd just have to grin and bear it, though that would prove easier said than done.

"Here we go again…" he sighed.

His eyes fell on the painter's abandoned supplies. Though not an errand, he figured he had to start somewhere. Making his way over to them lying in the grass, he picked them up one by one and proceeded toward the inn's door, sliding it open with his foot.

He entered a large, dimly-lit, single-room inn with several beds and nightstands lining the walls, all softly illuminated with lanterns. The brilliant light pouring in from the door flooded the place and chased away the darkness, making the Sheikah man stood behind the front desk shield his eyes like a blinded bat.

As Link stood in the doorway, unsure of how to approach the situation, he caught a quick glance of the painter's face peeking out from behind the front desk. He was crouched on the floor, cowering beside the innkeeper. When he met Link's eyes, he gasped and retreated.

Link heard him squeak, "Ollie! Th-that's him!"

The innkeeper, Ollie, kept his hands over his eyes. Even from Link's place at the door, he could see him shaking.

"I-I don't wanna look… I don't wanna look…" Ollie muttered under his breath. "Maybe if I just don't look, h-h-he'll go away…!"

Their hysterical terror only made Link's heart shrivel in his chest. Who knew what they had been told to expect? A raging, hellish monster bent on slaughtering them to slake his bloodlust, most likely. He knew his appearance might have conveyed that, but he hoped his actions would change their perception of him. He just prayed he'd get the chance to show them who he was — who he truly was, hidden behind the mask.

Chewing his lip, Link slowly approached the front desk, his eyes low and his steps cautious.

Ollie, his hands still pressed over his face, didn't acknowledge Link as he stood for a moment across from him. He shook so violently the chopsticks slid into his silvery bun rattled together.

Link cleared his throat, wondering softly, "Erm… excuse me?"

Ollie wheezed into his palms in explosive panic. After a moment, he peeked between his fingers at Link, only to spiral with fear at the sight of him, his sleepy eyes huge and his breath laboring in and out of his lungs.

"Ack! Don't hurt me! I'm too young!" he screeched, making Link jump. Ollie, too scared to move, endeavored to make himself smaller. "J-just tell me what you want! A free bed, my life's savings — anything! Just please, don't hurt me! I like my arms the way they are!"

Link, slightly hurt, fought back memories of Dorian's arm snapping. He peered across the desk to the painter squatting behind it, proposing, "Actually, I was just returning these… That man dropped them outside. I... thought he might want them back?"

Ollie risked a glance through his fingers to watch Link set the easel, paints, and canvas on the desk as carefully as though he were handling delicate explosives. Link then took a step back, clasping his hands and giving Ollie some space. He didn't want the poor man to faint. That would only add fuel to the blazing fire that was his reputation with the Sheikah.

A long, awed silence followed, the only sound rustling the air Ollie's quivering breath. "Pikango," he whispered, his gaze locked on the canvas. "Your stuff. H-he brought it back."

The painter, who Link now knew as Pikango, poked his head out from behind the desk. His eyes found his supplies before traveling to Link, where they lingered. He stared, perhaps several moments too long, before he managed to choke out, "Why, er… thank you… sir."

Link offered him as pleasant a smile as he could muster, though when coupled with his fierce, fang-laced bone mask and emotionless glowing eyes, he only succeeded in making Pikango's face twitch.

"Don't mention it," Link replied. Turning his gaze to Ollie, he proposed, "Er… if you need any help, I'd be happy to lend a hand — "

Finding himself the center of Link's attention only flustered Ollie further. He reacted as though Link had just thrust a sword to his throat, leaning back and hyperventilating.

"Okay, okay!" Ollie stammered, diving below the desk and emerging with a bulky bolt of dark blue fabric in his arms. He practically threw it across the desk and into Link's face, whacking him in his bony nose. "Here's some fabric we just got from Hateno," Ollie sputtered. "Deliver it to Lasli and Claree at Enchanted. Please, just take it and leave me alone!"

One of Link's fangs accidentally popped a seam from the fabric when it hit him. He winced upon seeing it, but ignored it, replying, "A-all right. Thank you. Er… have a nice day." He added, looking upon Pikango as he slowly rose from the floor, "You too, Pikango. Thanks again."

His skin itching in the dense atmosphere, Link quickly saw himself out without a second glance behind him.

The moment after he closed the door to the inn, he heard a heavy thump from inside — someone had collapsed. He froze, cringing on the doorstep. He had a feeling he knew who it was. Following a quick survey of the area, Link hurried down the stairs and banked a right. He didn't want to make any more of a scene than he already had.

His head ducked low, he scurried across the grass, his mind surging with dismay at the fear he'd stricken into Ollie and Pikango. As he sped to a destination he didn't know, he could only pray that he wouldn't leave a trail of petrified villagers in his wake as he made his way throughout Kakariko. That would be just the justification Cado needed to spray the valley walls with his blood. And Link knew he would do so happily.

The thought sent a shudder down his spine and quickened his pace. Walking in a blind haste away from the inn, he passed Impa's house and found himself striding up the nearby hill. The cacophonous clucking of cuccos in their pen filled his ears as he passed the cucco house and the clothing shop without a second thought, his mind abuzz and his breakfast frothing in his gut.

He frowned into his bones glowing through his fingers. Who was he kidding, trying to help the Sheikah? No matter the merit of his intentions, he just couldn't seem to do anything right. And it was all because of his cursed appearance. He ground his teeth, briefly wondering how many more lives he would ruin that day. How many more bones he'd break, how many panic attacks he'd trigger. He supposed he'd find out in due time, but part of him begged to simply leave the village behind and head back into the wild.

But he couldn't. Not yet. Not without the Slate.

Oh, the Slate. He hadn't even thought about it until just then. Even considering his bizarre, desperate reaction for it the night before — not to mention what had happened because of that — he still wanted it. All the same, he couldn't quite fathom why he had lashed out in such a way. Crazed, almost feral. It was almost as if the Slate was a part of him — a part so deeply connected that it drove them both insane when ripped from its companion.

But the idea in and of itself was preposterous. The Slate wasn't part of him. It was just that. A Slate. A device. It wasn't as if it had any life in it, right?

...Right? he thought to no one.

With his mind swarming like a beehive, he had unconsciously walked well past the next set of houses when his senses returned to him. Beneath the shade of a tree, he looked over the midnight-blue fabric in his arms.

Shaking off his worries, he returned his mind to Impa's tasks. Where was he supposed to deliver the fabric to, again?

The clothing shop, surely. Link turned and looked down the trail, setting his eyes on the sign above the shop's front door depicting an oversized Sheikah coat. It must have been Enchanted. If not, he'd ask for directions. That, of course, entailed meeting more of the villagers. He supposed he'd have to see what came of it.

He had no sooner passed the nearby houses when the front door to his right opened, a brisk set of excited footsteps meeting his ears.

"Cottla! Come back, sweetie, you haven't finished your breakfast!" someone called from inside the house.

Link's head jerked over to investigate. He abruptly lost all sense of purpose, stopping when he spotted a Sheikah child darting out of the house. He hadn't seen any children in his stay thus far, and he was surprised to find that the Sheikah, no matter their age, all possessed pale, shimmering hair.

The little girl before him was no exception. She couldn't have been more than four years old, with rosy, chubby cheeks and cute, looped hair that bobbed with each bouncing step she took. She burst out the door with a broad smile on her face, giggling to herself.

She had only reached the grass when she, too, stopped entirely, her big, rich brown eyes traveling up Link until they found his face. He retreated slightly, preparing himself for the impending shrieking.

But, to his amazement, the little girl didn't cry. Instead, her smile only grew. "Wow…!" she beamed. "You have a funny face!"

Well, he wasn't expecting that. Her words brought a ghost of a smile to his lips. Funny. He hadn't been called that, yet. Somehow, that lifted his spirits.

Link didn't have long to enjoy the little girl's refreshing company, for they were soon joined. Another person emerged from the house, out of breath from scrambling to grab the little girl. This time, Link recognized them — it was Impa's granddaughter, Paya.

"Cottla! Cottla, come back — " she began, only to cut herself off when her gaze met Link's. She gasped and stumbled back into the doorframe, bumping her head against it. "O-oh! It's you!" she breathed, her cheeks flushing. "I… er…"

Paya's eyes flew to the little girl, still enraptured with Link. "Um… C-Cottla, come here, sweetie," she stammered, her voice shaking. "You need to finish your rice before you can play… Remember?"

The little girl, Cottla, was too engrossed with Link to do as she was told. She pointed to his face, cheering, "Look, Paya, look at the funny man! He's got spikes on his head! And stars for eyes!" She bounded up the stairs and grabbed Paya by the hand, tugging at her in vain to bring her to Link. Paya remained rooted to her place, rigid as a statue.

"Look, Paya, look!" Cottla repeated. "You're not looking!"

Only Paya was looking. She gaped at Link, her body taut, as if expecting him to lash forward at any moment. It pained Link to see someone so mortally afraid of him that they wouldn't dare break eye contact — especially someone as timid and kind as Paya. She held her ground like a cornered, frightened animal.

As Link stood, his cheeks heating up beneath their gazes, something caught his eye. His gaze wandered down to Paya's hip, where he caught a split-second glance of a familiar magenta light peeking from beneath the hem of her coat. She gave a small gasp when she took notice of his staring, tugging down her coat.

She had the Slate.

Without warning, Link's gut gave an involuntary roll, his muscles seizing up as he suppressed a sudden lurching from deep inside him. He ingrained his fingertips into the fabric, grinding his jaw shut and wrenching his eyes away from Paya and into the dirt.

No, he grunted to himself. I won't! I won't do that again! Not to her. Not to anyone!

As he fought the overwhelming urge to charge forward to reclaim the Slate, he found himself under the scrutiny of a new set of eyes. Having heard the commotion from outside, the owner of the house leaned over to peer through the open doorway.

Link's heart dropped into his writhing stomach when their gazes met.

Dorian.

Even with the dark circles hanging beneath his eyes, he seemed to have been enjoying his morning — seated at a low breakfast table laid with teacups and bowls, his broken right arm cradled in a sling. But the moment their eyes met, the old man's countenance completely transformed, his face mutating into a wicked snarl. Abandoning his breakfast, he began to get to his feet, his teeth bared.

Link tensed for the worst, ready to take off running. But in Dorian's rage-fueled haste, he neglected to pay heed to his arm. Attempting to push himself up from the table via his wounded limb, his arm spiked with pain as his fracture split. In an instant, his face twisted and he gave a cry, crumbling into the floor in a heap.

Paya and Cottla both whipped their heads toward the house. In their distraction, Link was half-tempted to make his escape, but something kept him in his place. He yearned to help somehow, but he knew he wouldn't get the chance. Not with Dorian. He remained where he was, watching the scene play out, an omen brewing in his gut.

As Dorian grunted and clutched his sling, another little girl sprang from her cushion and rushed for him, worrying, "Father?! Oh no, are you okay?!"

She must have been Cottla's older sister; they looked incredibly similar, if not for their sizes. Although she appeared only seven years old, she flew into action with a pot of ointment and a cloth, ready to aid her father.

As he lay stiff on the floorboards, she carefully peeked under his sling. Before she had the chance to dab his skin with her ointment, Dorian sat up and gathered her close to his chest with his good arm, his eyes honed in on Link. They were aglow with a hot, defensive fire, burning into his face and refusing to let him go.

Confused at her father's reaction, the girl peeked over her shoulder and out the doorway, her gaze falling immediately on Link's dark figure. Unlike her sister, she didn't find him quite as fascinating. Not at all. Her little body locked up beneath her father's hold, her eyes widening with terror.

Her young, petrified expression broke something inside Link — something he'd never forgive himself for. But it was the high-pitched scream that escaped from her mouth that utterly destroyed him. Suddenly breathless, he jolted away as if he had been physically beaten, taking a few steps back on unstable knees, his throat cinching nearly shut.

At that moment, he felt completely and totally monstrous.

As the tension in the air bore down on all of them like a relentless rain, Paya broke her paralysis, foreseeing disaster. She took one glance between Dorian and Link, and in one swift movement, scooped up Cottla, placed her into her house, and drew the door shut.

She kept her back to Link for several eternal moments, barring the door against Cottla's little fists banging against it. When the girl was finally pulled away, Paya paused, took a deep breath, and slowly came around to face Link.

Upon bringing herself to meet his eyes, she struggled to even out the vibrato in her voice. She wasn't so sure she could handle being alone with him — only, something about him had changed. She didn't notice it until she finally found the courage to muse, "G-grandmother said that that would be inevitable…"

Link stood, numb, his blood icing over in his veins — the scream of Dorian's daughter was like a knife in his mind, shredding his resolve to ribbons. It took ages for him to coax his response off of his tongue.

"...Your grandmother is a wise woman," he murmured.

His voice hardly carried over the light breeze. It was hoarse. Ruined. Though she only just heard him, Paya nevertheless stiffened as he spoke. It was jarring, hearing him speak — his calm voice didn't suit his face.

All the same, she couldn't ignore the pain in his voice. Something stirred inside her upon recognizing it. She listened intently as he added, "I've never met anyone like Impa. You and your people are lucky to have her as your elder."

Paya, studying his wilted posture, replied, "It's a blessing, yes." Pausing, her mind raced for something to say beyond rigid small talk. Ultimately, she decided to reroute their conversation. "Erm… Grandmother asked me to watch over you today as you go ab-bout errands. She received a list of chores from the villagers." Gesturing to the bolt of fabric he carried, she said, "Ollie needed that delivered... to Enchanted, didn't he?"

"Yes. He mentioned that," Link replied. "I was just on my way over, when… well…" He trailed off, his voice catching in his throat. Truth be told, he almost didn't have the strength to face more rejection. Not after Dorian's daughter.

A passing gust of wind left them both in silence for a moment.

"Um… Well…" Paya muttered, wringing her hands together. Her next words clung to her tongue until she practically spit them out. "I th-think it might be best if... I delivered the fabric to them."

Link's ears perked up, his brows furrowing slightly. She went on, "Lasli and Claree can be a little… skittish. A-and Olkin needs help with the harvest; he's been complaining about his knees. Y-you should do that next."

Link gave a nod. "Okay."

Though they were in agreement, neither of them moved for a moment — Link, unsure of where to go; Paya, battling against her heart stampeding in her chest. Gathering her courage, she proposed, "Here… erm… l-let me t-take that..."

To Link's amazement, Paya stepped toward him, almost on tiptoe, before she reached out and gingerly pulled the bolt of fabric out of his hands. She didn't meet his eyes and abstained from touching him as she did so, but that didn't register to Link — he was too stunned by her borderline-courageous act of doing him a kindness to notice. He simply let the bolt slip out of his limp fingers, his horror at himself dissolving in lieu of humble awe.

Maybe there was more to Paya than he originally thought? Even that small act of service… it meant the world to him.

With her delivery in her possession, she took several quick steps back and hugged the fabric close, her eyes flitting between Link and the clothing shop just down the path. "You, er, w-wait here. Please. I-I'll be right back — "

She suddenly swiveled and darted down the trail, leaving Link thunderstruck. He watched her knock on the door of Enchanted and hand the fabric off to someone he couldn't see. Once she had delivered it, she bade them goodbye and rejoined Link.

Motioning toward a nearby offshoot of the trail, she said softly, "Olkin's patch is this way."

Link hesitated before making his way over to the patch. He couldn't pull his eyes from her. He abruptly saw Paya in a different light — and it was nothing short of wonderful.

With something fluttering around in his chest, he murmured, "...Thank you… Paya."

He wasn't sure what to label her reaction to his thanks, and neither could she. Either way, she couldn't stop her cheeks from flushing pink. Without a word, she ducked her head and shuffled off down the new trail, where Link followed her suit.

In his newfound appreciation for her, he completely forgot that she had the Sheikah Slate.

Paya lead him across a low bridge spanning a brook and past several signposts until they arrived at last at the pumpkin patch. The spot was hidden from the main trail, surrounded by swaying sakura trees and guarded by a fence. Several dozen pumpkins huddled in rows in the soil, their grower already hard at work on them.

When Paya called out to him and introduced Link, he gave a jolt not unlike anything Link had seen prior. At the very least, however, Olkin didn't take off screaming, instead lingering to guard his garden. Link's meeting with Olkin went about as well as the others had, albeit with Olkin beholding him as though he were on fire, threatening to destroy his crops.

He initially held resignations against Link offering his hand. But after some convincing from his achy knees and Paya's quiet reassurance, Olkin relented, though his grimace never faded from beneath his unkempt beard.

Not wishing to repeat what had happened at the inn, Link kept conversation to a minimum and his head down, setting himself to work snipping the pumpkins from their vines. Olkin kept an almost hawk-like watch on him; he was convinced Link's dark condition would somehow pollute his crops. After Link eventually left, Olkin scrutinized each and every pumpkin that he touched, hunting for impurities. Thankfully, he came up short.

True to her grandmother's request, Paya oversaw Link's efforts with Olkin, as well as with the other villagers as she accompanied him from errand to errand. As the day grew long, she gradually grew a tad more comfortable with Link, and he with her, though she still maintained a healthy distance between them at all times. Kind and helpful as he was, she kept the memory of his attack on Dorian fresh in her mind. She knew what he was capable of. Neither of them would ever forget it.

The two of them made their rounds in the village, visiting everyone on Impa's list. Link rolled up his sleeves and scrubbed the floors of High Spirits Produce, the local food market, while the shopkeeper, Trissa, cowered on a stool in the corner. Later, Link was forced to sit outside and carve arrows for the arrow shop owner, Rola, while she gaped at him through her window. He scared her half to death when he managed to cut himself, entering the shop to ask for a bandage. She promptly dumped a roll of cloth on the desk and asked him not to drip his magenta blood on her rugs.

By midafternoon, the cut on his palm was throbbing, his back was sore, and his muddy clothes clung to his sweat-soaked skin. Desperate as he was for a break, Link didn't complain, even through his body's groaning. At the end of the day, he was happy to pay back what he had done to Dorian, even if the villagers still gave him a wide berth and whispered behind his back.

Unfortunately for Link, his day wasn't about to get any better. His next task brought him back to Cado, stood at the crest of Impa's stairs. He wore a smug grin and tossed something at Link's feet. It was a tiny metal spoon, no bigger than his pinkie finger.

Link's brows crinkled as he held it between two fingers. "What should I do with this?" he asked.

Cado chuckled. "My cuccos would certainly appreciate it if you cleaned out their coop. Now that I am on constant guard for Lady Impa, I've had no time to maintain it." With a wicked glint in his eye, he sneered, "You have fun, now."

So Cado owned the coop, then. Link endeavored to hide his disdain, knowing that it would only please the old Sheikah. Grinding his teeth, he took the spoon, marched to the cucco coop, and ducked inside it on hand and knee, scraping away at the petrified clumps of cucco feces caking the floor.

As he labored in the coop, Paya sat on Cado's porch, grimacing at Link's gagging. She felt that this task was a tad cruel, but she kept it to herself. While Link chiseled away, she took a moment to look out at a bank of thick storm clouds approaching above the mountaintops. Even in the golden midafternoon light, they remained dark and imposing, their bellies painted a deep, stony blue with water. She prayed that the rain would come soon and relieve Link of his chores for the day.

Sadly, the clouds took their time in that regard. He spent the next hour and a half scratching away every scrap of cucco feces he could until he couldn't breathe. Gasping, he shimmied out of the coop and gulped fresh air into his lungs before casting aside his spoon onto Cado's porch.

He gave a heavy sigh, smearing away the sweat on his upper lip with his wrist. The smell of the coop oozed out of his skin, curling his nostrils.

"Done," he breathed, kicking his handiwork into the grass. He glanced to Paya. "Are there any chores I missed?"

She looked over his work. "I… don't think so. Er… wait, not quite…" She thought back on her mental list. When it dawned on her just what it was, she winced, saying shyly, "Just one task left for the day, I'm afraid. But… perhaps we ought to... skip this one..."

Link tilted his head. "What for? What is it?"

She hesitated to reply, chewing her lip. "...Dorian needs his floors swept."

Link blinked, the muscles in his neck tightening. He had been so preoccupied with the rest of the villagers that he had forgotten about Dorian — part of him would have rathered it stay that way, but another part of him rose to the occasion.

"No," he said firmly, looking into his hands. "...I can't skip Dorian. It's the least I can do for him. The very least."

Now that he was thinking on it, he wasn't looking forward to doing the deed, but it had to be done. After all, he would only be sweeping. He just hoped Dorian would allow him to even step foot into his home without going for his throat.

Though they were both dreading it, Paya nevertheless lead Link up the road to Dorian's house — the door still shut from earlier that morning. She remained in her place outside, her hands clasped, as he proceeded into the lion's den.

Link swallowed his anxiety and climbed the steps to Dorian's front door. He knocked twice, half-hoping he wouldn't get an answer. But, just to his luck, someone responded.

"Come in," came Dorian's gruff voice.

Link eased the door open, carefully stepping inside. He endeavored to make as little sound as possible, padding in cautiously, his eyes soaking in the cozy, single-room home. A bed occupied the farthest corner, the walls were lined with shelves and talismans, and hand-carved wooden toys lay scattered about. It appeared neither Cottla nor her sister were around.

Link froze when he spotted Dorian, seated directly across from the front door, leaned against the wall. He sat beside a shelf stocked with books and vases of various sizes, a broom propped up against it. He rested his broken arm in his lap, glaring at Link in the fading light in complete silence, his nose wrinkled and his jaw locked.

Dorian's eyes trailed Link from the tips of his short horns to his ragged shoes, perusing him with disgust. Finding himself again under Dorian's unflinching scowl made Link hesitant to move, though he fidgeted in his own skin.

They merely watched each other for what felt like centuries before Dorian growled, "Well? What are you waiting for? Sweep the place, already, if that's what you're here to do."

Link gave a timid nod, casting his eyes down. "Of course," he murmured, striding across the floor and taking the broom by the handle. He proceeded to skirt along the perimeter of the house, picking up toys and cushions Once the floor was clear, he began to run the broom along the floorboards.

As he worked, he didn't dare move too quickly, for fear he'd upset Dorian, somehow. He didn't want to risk the chance that the old man was hiding his sword somewhere in the house, waiting for an opportunity to use it. He ensured he kept Dorian in the corner of his eye at all times, and screwed his mouth shut. The last thing he wanted was to say something that would send Dorian's already-bubbling wrath to volatile levels.

The reverent swishing of the broom against the floor was the only sound in the thick, heavy air. The silence filled Link's ears near to bursting, pressing against his skin. At every turn he made, he felt the weight of Dorian's stare boring into him. The old man trained his eyes on his guest, scrutinizing even the way he walked — peering through his transparent skin, he was disturbed by the way his bones drifted inside him. The sight flooded his brain with questions and revile.

At long last, Link gathered a neat pile of dust in the center of the house. He swept it over to the front door and brushed it outside before giving the room one last look-over. The floor was noticeably cleaner; he figured he had done his job. And not a moment too soon. Without giving the old man a second glance, Link quietly set the broom against a wall, and began to make his way out.

But something stopped him. A loud crash issued from behind him, and he whirled around, startled. He found Dorian still in his place, his eyes still locked on him. Scattered across the floorboards beside him were the fractured remains of a ceramic pot, as well as its contents — thousands of grains of rice, sprayed in all directions.

A chill came over Link, then. He could only stand in silence as Dorian glowered at him from across the room.

"Oh, dear," Dorian mused, his voice flat. "It appears that my broken arm has made me drop my rice pot." A flicker of a smirk tempted his lips. "Clumsy me."

Link's stomach turned over at the raw contempt radiating from Dorian. He had only seen its equivalent in King Rhoam's first impression of him. Swallowing a lump in his throat, Link took up the broom, again, as well as the dustpan, and strode over to Dorian.

He sunk to his knees, sweeping the rice grains and ceramic shards into a pile. As he gathered them into the dustpan, he felt the pressure of Dorian's glare against his face. Only this time, it didn't intimidate him. No, it only made him want to end it. Link was honestly trying to settle things, yet Dorian refused civility. He hoped they could talk it out.

That was just what he attempted to do. With a bloom of courage from nowhere, Link spoke up, his voice miraculously level. "Dorian, I… can understand why you're angry with me — "

"Angry?" Dorian interrupted. Link, shocked, snapped his head up to face him. "Oh, no, I'm not angry," he continued, shaking his head.

He then leaned into Link's face, growling, "I'm furious. I have dutifully served as Lady Impa's guard for over a decade, now, and I have never questioned her judgement once. Until you came along." His brows tightened over his flaming eyes. "Somehow you've planted into her mind the inconceivable notion that you can be trusted. That you are who we've been waiting for! The hero straight out of a legend.

"You," he spat. "This... horrifying monstrosity of horns and teeth and eyes! You are nothing more than a demon crusading in human form." Throughout his tirade, Link remained still as stone, when, without provocation, Dorian surged forward and seized a handful of Link's shirt with his good arm, pulling him close. His breath was hot against Link's face. "She gave you a bed. She fed you. She trusted you to help her people, when she clearly saw what you were capable of!"

He grit his teeth. "I can't comprehend it! What does she see in you?!" Tightening his grip, he hissed, "Why in the name of the gods above should we trust you?!"

Link drew in several shaky breaths through his nose, searching through Dorian's mangled expression. His heart raced in his chest as he said, slowly, "Because I'm trying to set things right." Dorian blinked at that. Link went on, "For you, for your village, and for Hyrule." He then shook his head, much to Dorian's astonishment. "And I'll do it no matter what I look like. And I won't rest until it's done."

A brief silence followed. Dorian appeared to have been stricken speechless. Link stared intently into his eyes, finishing, "Now, I'd appreciate it if you let me do my job."

Unfortunately, Link's response only sent Dorian into an explosive rage. His breath began to rush in and out of his nostrils in heavy bursts, his muscles tensing as he roared, "Why, you devil! How dare you speak to me like that?! I'll kill you!"

Link pitched himself back to avoid an attack he was anticipating, but Dorian had knotted his fingers into his shirt. As Link retreated, Dorian's firm grip tore his shirt nearly in half with an audible rip, making Link stagger.

They both stared at what remained of Link's shirt, agape, when the brisk snapping of footsteps greeted them. They turned their gazes to the door as Paya stampeded into the house, her eyes enormous at the sight she beheld. Her lips firming, she tightened her fists at her sides, and commanded, "Link," — he shivered when she said his name — "Grandmother is calling for you. C-come right away. Please."

Link, his mouth set in a line, gave Dorian one final glance before he straightened, turned, and followed Paya out of the house. He left the old Sheikah with a few scraps of his worn shirt, as well as the shattered aftermath of their rice-and-ceramic warfare to keep him company.

Link was certainly grateful that Paya had rescued him, but he nevertheless squirmed against a foul feeling deep inside him. In all truth, he was thoroughly disturbed by Dorian's almost inhuman behavior — memories of their argument haunted him for the remainder of the night, clouding his mind through the brief bath he took, all throughout dinner (which, incredibly, he hardly noticed), and even up until Cado had shackled him back in Impa's attic.

He sat in the dark, his humble bed and his thoughts illuminated only just by the soft magenta light emanating through his skin. Though it sent his mind spiralling, he could understand Dorian's hostility — after all, Link was the one who had disturbed their peaceful lives and broken the man's arm without provocation.

Even so, he felt that his efforts in helping the villagers at least warranted giving him a second chance. Mostly everyone in the village had, either voluntarily or not… except for Dorian. No, he simply refused to see Link as anything more than a dark blot on their village that needed to be exterminated at the end of a blade. The reality of that wasn't lost on Link, but it stung all the same.

Link stewed over his day for longer than he could keep track of. His mind churned for several hours into the night; his head was full to spilling with a slurry of emotions, drooping into his shoulder as he eventually began to doze off. He had certainly earned himself a good night's sleep.

He just hoped he wouldn't relive his day in his dreams. Those chores had been something else, and he hadn't particularly enjoyed a few of them. Although, if he could dream of spending time with Impa and Paya, then perhaps he wouldn't mind so much. The two of them had been the highlight of his day.

He had only just shut his eyes when a sound from downstairs roused him out of his exhausted stupor: a heavy thud that rolled through the house like thunder. The sound mimicked what he had heard earlier that day at the inn — like someone falling to the floor.

Link sat up a little, his face scrunched up in sleep. He wondered if someone had slammed a door too hard. Some time passed as he listened for any other sounds. Nothing. He almost fell back asleep when he heard another thump, followed shortly by a muffled cry.

His heart leapt in his chest, snapping him awake.

That sounded like a voice, he panicked. A girl's voice. What's going on?

A sudden onslaught of worry tumbled around inside him, rattling his bones and churning his stomach. Tossing away his blanket, he tried to make a beeline to the trap door to investigate, only to remember that he was shackled. This time, Cado had secured his bonds with extra weights in the form of old statues and tables, ensuring he couldn't wander far. Eager to find out what was going on downstairs, Link futilely pulled against his chains and tried to slip his hands out, but ultimately ended up bruising himself.

"Urgh," he grunted under his breath. "How do I get out of here?!"

Link continued to try and find a means of escape. His chains were clacking together so loudly that he didn't notice the approach of someone from downstairs until the trap door had been swung open, and warm, flickering lantern light filled the room. He froze, turning his head to the figure drifting slowly towards him from out of the darkness.

It was Paya. Only something was wrong. Very wrong.

"Paya?!" he gasped. The shadows against her face made her seem ghostly. "What's going on down there? I thought I heard something."

She didn't reply, only shuffling forward ever so slightly. She shook like a leaf, her lantern rattling, her breath raspy and weak.

"Paya, are you okay?" he asked, his neck tingling.

"I-I — n-need your help — Link," she finally whimpered, coming to a stop before him.

Now that she had come close enough, he saw her in a shocking state: her hair had been violently pulled from its bun, leaving it a disheveled, knotted mess. His eyes traced the long lines of shiny tears streaking down her face. Illuminated by the lantern light, he caught a glimpse of what looked like a bruise smudged across her cheekbone, as big as his palm and black as night.

Link's heart dropped into his stomach. Without thinking, he came forward and laid his hands on Paya's shoulders. She flinched almost invisibly, but she didn't fight him. She simply stood, her body as numb as her face.

"Who did this to you?!" Link demanded.

"It was… I-it was…" Paya gasped, struggling to hold back a fresh wave of tears. "A Y-yiga member. A man. H-he was s-so big, s-so cruel." She paused for a moment to regain her breath. "H-he snuck in, knocked Cado out and threatened to b-break Grandmother's neck unl-less I gave him what he w-wanted."

Link wasn't sure what the Yiga were, exactly, but he already hated them. Though it killed him to see her stammer against her tears, he continued to probe her for information.

"What did he want, Paya?" he asked.

She sniffled, not daring to meet his eyes. Gulping, she whispered, "The Sheikah Slate. Forgive me — I had to. He was going to hurt Grandmother. He was going to — !"

The poor girl broke down, then, melting into sobs and hiding behind her hands. Though the Yiga had gone, his presence still lingered with her. Something came over Link, then. He didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around her and gather her close to him, squeezing her; she crumbled into his embrace.

"Paya, Paya, it's okay. Don't apologize," he murmured softly in her ear. "You were very brave. I'm proud of you."

They held each other for a while in silence. Paya sobbed into Link's chest, shaking uncontrollably as he attempted to soothe her, stroking her back and reassuring her that she had done well.

"I was s-so scared…" she breathed between her tears. "I th-thought I would die…"

Something seared through Link's veins at her words, igniting a fire inside him. "I'll find him," he said. "I'll make him pay. Get back the Slate. I promise. You stay here, with Impa. I'll be back."

He had no time to lose — but thanks to his shackles, he had to stop and consider things. To Link's amazement, Paya came prepared, removing his shackle key from her pocket and releasing him. Now a man on a mission, Link took her by the shoulder and escorted her out of the attic, down the stairs, and back into the main room of the house.

There, he met with an unsettling scene. Cado lay strewn against the rug like a ragdoll, unconscious. An open window let in the smell of an impending storm, the night wind slapping at the flags dangling along the ceiling and stuttering the candles. Impa, her conical hat missing, knelt beside Cado, her hands rested gently on his forehead.

When Link and Paya entered the room, Impa glanced up for a moment. Her face had no emotion, no color. She said nothing as Link left her granddaughter with her, picked up Cado's sword, and exchanged a long, firm glance with the two of them as they knelt beside each other.

"I'll be back," he promised.

Securing the strap of Cado's scabbard, Link turned, burst through the double doors, and darted into the night.

Ladies and gentlemen, things are about to get CRAZY!

Oh my gosh, I'm dying, I'm so excited. This chapter was an absolute joy to write, and I honestly am bursting to get the next one out.

So, what did you think? Was the chapter too long? Or did you like the length? I don't think the next one will be quite as jam-packed... Either way, I'd love to hear any feedback you may have.

Again, thank you so much for reading and being patient with me.

We'll see you next chapter... ;)