Well, look who it is! It's me! Yay!
This chapter is a bit shorter than the last chapter. I initially had a lot more packed in this, but as I wrote it, I realized that I had fit too much into it, so I bumped some to the next chapter. But don't worry, we're still going to learn a lot in this one. You want some answers? YOU'RE GETTING THEM, BABY.
Also, there's some new content here. :) A deleted scene that I realized NEEDED to be included.
I hope you enjoy! To all you readers, both new and long-time, welcome to chapter 16. I need to warn you, though, this one's gonna hurt.
Enjoy~
Link ran.
He ran like hell.
He ran as if Calamity Ganon himself were breathing down his neck. Frenzied, breathless, desperate. Where he was running to, he didn't know.
But he didn't care. Anywhere was better than that godforsaken Shrine.
Link tore through the anteroom and up the staircase, clinging to the slimy mass of Malice that was his arm, ingraining his fingers into it till he lost feeling in his hands. That thing was his arm — that thing was attached to him. He couldn't even look at it. Thick and sinewy, it throbbed beneath his grip like a beating heart, glowing and visibly pulsating. It was disgusting. An ocean of bile sloshed in his stomach with every twitch of it.
The fragments of Link's shattered psyche pleaded for him to stop and spew out the caustic horror dissolving him from the inside out. But he didn't dare. He had to get out. Dear Goddess, he had to get out. He couldn't stay in that Shrine for another minute.
He ignored his body's screams, his legs powering him up the steps without his input. The stairs seemed to stretch on into eternity. They just wouldn't end. When, at last, far ahead — seemingly miles ahead — a faint glimmer of sunlight winked at him from the end of the tunnel. His ragged breath caught. He needed that light. He couldn't get to it fast enough.
But the closer approached, the more the walls around him began to melt and warp into a cavernous abyss, closing in on him. Link gave a jolt when an unholy wail surged out of the shadows, filling his ears. It was coming from the walls. The Shrine — it knew what he'd done. Both to it, and its creator. And it wanted to swallow him whole for it.
Link's lungs spontaneously crushed as the walls leapt towards him. Crying out, his hands flew to his head, cradling it against the onslaught of darkness. He stumbled, but caught himself. He couldn't afford to fall. No, he wouldn't let himself. He had to get out right now.
He forced his legs harder, but he couldn't tell if he was running any faster. The roaring in his ears masked his footfalls. Undaunted, the darkness crept in further, enclosing him on every side. He could feel it pressing against his flesh. He tried to tell it to leave him alone, but his words clogged up his throat.
Finally, just as the Shrine was on the brink of consuming him, Link shot out from its mouth and onto the cliffside. His lungs burned as if he had run for miles, but in reality, he had bolted through the entirety of the Shrine in less than ten seconds.
The darkness surrounding him scattered, a void of blinding light taking its place. Link's eyes screwed shut against it. Though free from the Shrine, his breakneck pace never faltered — he charged into the tall grass in a straight, unrelenting path. As his eyes adjusted, he found with a new flush of panic that his vision was… off. The glade around him was smudgy and seemed distant, as though he were looking at it through a foggy spyglass. As if he wasn't really there.
While his sweltering mind tried to make sense of his surroundings, his gaze found the only object in his line of sight that was crystal clear: a familiar silhouette, standing against the horizon. Hyrule Castle. Its spires struggled out of the bank of black clouds consuming it. Link's Malice gave a distinct spasm as he stared at the castle. His hand flew to his sludgy forearm, his face contorting. It was almost as if his arm was... reaching for the castle.
And the castle reached back. Magenta light flickered along the clouds, which began to roil before Link's eyes, almost signaling to him. Something there knew he was staring at it, and it lavished the attention. Link's racing heart abruptly slowed and gave a thump. He choked, his head swimming.
Link couldn't stop staring. And yet, he couldn't stop running. He was so captivated by the castle, so engrossed in his flight from the Shrine, that he completely forgot the lay of the land. In the state he was in, he had no way of seeing the fast-approaching cliffside until after his foot plunged off the edge.
He sucked in a gasp, his stomach lurching as his gaze was wrenched from the castle to his feet. Through the soup that was his vision, he couldn't fully see the hundred-foot drop looming beneath him, but even if he could, he had been moving too fast to stop himself.
Link realized too late what was happening. His voice, lodged deep in his throat, finally burst out of him in a strangled scream as he barreled off the cliff and plunged toward the ground far below. Squinting through his streaming eyes, he tried to make sense of the blurry colors rushing past him, but his total lack of depth perception made it impossible. He thrust his arms forward out of instinct. It was all he could do; he was in too much of a blind panic to even consider pulling out his paraglider.
As he careened toward the ground, an all-too-familiar bloom of adrenaline rose from the pit of his stomach, cutting through his shock. He was helpless to subdue it. He barely heard the quick chirp that sounded from the Slate. Within a split-second, Link watched, both amazed and horrified, as the Malice coating his arm twisted and bulged, doubling in size.
No, not again — Link almost passed out at the sight of it. His normal hand immediately latched onto it, fingertips pressing into it in efforts to contain it. But it was for naught. Like a snake poised to strike, his Malice shot toward the ground, hitting it with a splatter.
Something inside him took over, then — an instinct he never knew he had. The moment he was within seconds of crashing into the ground, his Malice tensed. Link grunted as his shoulder was wrenched out of its socket, his arm whipping his body parallel to the ground and redirecting his momentum. He was flung like a rag doll, tumbling along the foot of the cliff before hurtling front-first into a tree.
He smashed into the trunk with a tremendous crash, the impact punching the wind out of him and sending the tree swaying. He was showered with acorns. Nearby wildlife scattered. Both the tree and Link's ribs groaned in unison; he fell limp against the roots, a croak of pain fizzling out of his gritted teeth. He couldn't move.
He lay there for a moment, futilely gulping in air like a fish as his body struggled to catch up with itself. Clawing for breath, he knotted his fingers into the grass, his blurry, spinning gaze locked onto the castle peeking at him from between the trees. The longer he stared at it, the more intently it stared back.
What have you wrought, Link? it seemed to ask him.
"Don't…!" Link pleaded, his voice little more than a rasp.
What have you wrought? it demanded.
He knew what. He knew very well what he had wrought. The reminder of it lurked, cruel and merciless, in a dark corner of his mind, where he had shoved it away. But he refused to acknowledge it. Not now. Not ever. He didn't dare. He had no idea what he would do if he ever stopped to even think about it.
But as he lay there, Link's body and mind began to unravel faster than he could hold them together. The passing breeze froze the sweat that drenched his skin and soaked his clothes, his lungs shriveling into worthless shreds in his chest. All the while, his Malice-slathered arm continued to pulsate, every thump dispelling the haze clouding his mind — his last bastion against his harrowing reality.
While in the Shrine, Link's mind had been thrown into chaos. He couldn't think straight. For a moment, that was a blessing, saving him from total mental collapse. He couldn't think about anything other than his desperate need to run. But now that he was no longer running for his life, he couldn't escape the death knell that was his reality. All he could do was lie there as the knowledge of what he had done shoved his head underwater, drowning him in dark despair.
It happened again. Oh Goddess, it happened again.
Link began to choke on his shallow breaths as if Maz Koshia's hand was still crushing his throat. Maz Koshia — what had he done to him?
Link was powerless to fight the memories of his outburst. All he could see was Maz Koshia's fiery veil glaring him down, all he could hear was the awful crack of his neck, the sight of him hitting the floor, motionless. The horror in Purah's eyes. It all kept replaying in his mind, over and over and over again, beating him into the ground.
He sucked in a rattled breath, his body shaking so hard his teeth chattered. Yes, he knew what he had done. But he couldn't swallow the reality that was being forced down his throat. He had done it again. Only it hadn't been a Yiga he had hurt this time. It was a friend. A Sheikah monk.
Maz Koshia.
He was gone. Link had killed him. Snapped his neck like it was nothing. It had been easy.
Finally, the floodgates opened. A torrent of hot tears coursed down Link's bone mask. He couldn't breathe. He shook his head erratically. He refused to believe it. Not Maz Koshia. Not him. Not Maz Koshia, the dedicated servant of Hylia who had waited ten thousand years for him; the friend he had confided in, shared his deepest fears and anxieties with; the monk who had devoted his entire existence to him.
The gut-wrenching crunch of Maz Koshia's neck wracked Link's mind again, shattering whatever remained of his resolve into pieces. Link recoiled as if he'd been kicked.
"I'm sorry, Maz…!" Link cried. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"
Link's stomach writhed inside him. He began to heave. But his stomach, pulverized from hitting the tree, drew up nothing. Grunting against the bile burning in his gut, he twisted his fingers into his hair and slammed his Malice-coated fist into the grass, bitterly cursing himself.
Goddess, he was weak.
Useless.
Pathetic.
Hopeless.
This was all his fault. Maz Koshia had said so himself. Link had only made things worse — just like he always did. Link's heart trembled for a moment at that thought until a scowl warped his brow, his jaw grinding. He struck the grass again, a ragged shout of self-loathing ripping from his throat.
He screamed till his lungs gave out. Over the following moments, he struggled to regain his breath, sucking in stifled gasps and releasing in bursts. Meanwhile, he could only stare, unblinking, at the thumping mass of Malice stretched out before him. The magenta veins coursing along it pulsed with light. Its incessant, organ-like beating was both revolting and hypnotizing. But it didn't feel strange. If anything, it felt real. Part of him. Normal. But goddess, was it wrong.
As Link continued to stare at it, he suddenly noticed something. A smell. Something was burning. He blinked, refocusing his gaze, before he quickly discovered thin tendrils of smoke curling off the grass beneath his sludgy knuckles.
He was burning the grass. Link cried out and took his arm back, clamping down on it with his hand.
No, this wasn't happening. What could he do? It was only getting worse. And he had no idea how to control it.
His face contorted into a snarl. "What's wrong with me?!" he hissed through bared teeth.
He was afraid he already knew the answer.
But he couldn't dwell on that. He had to get rid of the poison on his arm. He couldn't stand to look at it anymore, nor did he care to see what else it could destroy. He'd seen enough. More than enough. Breath afire, Link reached out and began to scrape his fingers across his Malice, hoping to strip it away. But he may as well have been scratching at bricks. He'd rip his fingernails off before he removed anything. But it was all he could think to do amidst the maelstrom of loathing and panic lambasting his brain.
In spite of the futility of the endeavor, Link consumed himself with shearing away his Malice. Obsessed as he was, it was a miracle he heard a voice calling from afar.
"Link!? Link, where are you?!"
Link froze, his head snapping up, whirling toward the direction of the voice. He knew that voice.
His heart fluttered as a face appeared in his mind. It was a smiling face, yet one he could barely bring himself to even visualize, let alone look in the eye. With a grunt, Link rolled off the tree roots to try to get to his feet, to run where nobody would ever find him. But he only managed to make it to his knees before his bruised ribs stopped him, leeching the breath out of him. Bracing himself, he remained where he knelt, praying that the earth would swallow him up.
In the distance, Symin came to a stop at the foot of the hill, his brows low as he scanned the terrain. He tangled his fingers in his hair, chewing at his lip. Still no sign of Link.
Symin cupped his hands around his mouth, crying again, "Link! LINK!"
Unfortunately for Link, he didn't blend into the forest well. Symin quickly spotted his cerulean tunic through the trees. He hesitated only just before darting over. Link listened to Symin's approach with bated breath, each of his footsteps stiffening his spine. When Symin finally came close, he lingered a fair distance away at a nearby tree. His eyes immediately found Link's arm. He swallowed a mouthful of sour fear at the sight of it.
"...Link?" Symin asked, his voice faint.
Link flinched when he spoke. He didn't reply. He could only gaze into the grass, clinging to his arm, his body shaking.
There was a brief pause. "Are… are you all right?" Symin wondered.
Link flinched again, but he barely processed Symin's words. He took in a throttled breath, boring his fingers deeper into his arm. "L-l-leave me alone, Symin — y-you shouldn't be here — !" he stammered.
Symin frowned, his brows knitting together. Mustering his courage, he repeated, his voice gaining a slightly stern edge, "Link, are you all right?"
There was another pause. Link exhaled shakily. Symin's tone had startled him. "I-I don't… I don't know…!"
"Link… listen to me, okay?" Symin began carefully. "I think you're having a panic attack."
Link's face twitched. "What do you mean?" Symin's words shook him for some reason. Circumventing his shame, he twisted around to look at him. "H-how do you know that?"
Symin flinched. Nervous as he was in the wake of what he'd seen, he managed to hold himself together when he took in the haggard, miserable Hylian before him. He sighed, his shoulders sagging.
"...I've seen them before," he murmured. He then raised a hand, continuing slowly, "I'm here for you, okay? I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere. What do you need?"
His voice… he kept it so level. So calm. He was trying to help, in spite of everything. But why, after what he'd seen Link do? Link searched Symin's face, struggling to comprehend his motives. He didn't reply. He couldn't. Link lowered his gaze, still gripping his arm.
Symin asked again, "What can I do for you, Link?"
"I don't know…!" Link breathed.
Symin's eyes wandered to Link's arm. He knew exactly what Link needed, even if he didn't. Gesturing to Link's Malice, Symin proposed, "Can I help with that?"
Link shuddered, gritting his teeth. "It won't go away..." he grunted.
"What do you mean? H-how do we get it to go away?"
Link shook his head. "I don't know, I — "
He cut himself off, his mind beginning to race. When he paused to think back, the more sporadic his thoughts became. But they weren't blurry, like the edges of his vision. They were razor sharp in clarity, almost burning in his skull. As horrible as the reality of it was, this had happened before. With Izer. After Link had impaled him and shattered his body, the Malice coating his arm had simply melted off.
Unblinking, Link rambled, crushing his arm, "It just went away last time — w-why isn't it going away now?!"
"...Last time?" Symin repeated, his eyes widening.
The resurgence of memories of that night ignited a firestorm of panic and rage inside Link. He turned on Symin, roaring, "YES! This happened before, all right?! I KILLED someone with it! Just like I killed Maz Koshia — !" Just saying those words immediately drained the adrenaline out of him. Wheezing, Link slumped over, crying, "Oh my goddess...! I did it again! I did it again — oh, goddess!"
Symin recoiled, ducking near the tree he stood at. He struggled to control his heightened breath as he stared at Link. He knew Link needed help — Link desperately needed it. But Symin had no idea what to do or what to say.
After a moment or two of tense silence — broken only by Link's gasping — words finally came to Symin. Shaking his head, he began, "Link, Link — you didn't kill Maz Koshia."
Link's face twisted into a filthy glare upon hearing his words. He couldn't help but snarl at Symin, his yellow eyes flashing. "Don't lie to me," he growled.
Symin's heart fluttered, but he nevertheless went on, voice shaking, "B-but I'm not lying. I promise. Think about it for a second — he's lived for ten thousand years, right? His body… it doesn't work like yours or mine." He shrugged. "Yes, you hurt him, but you didn't kill him."
Link's eyes widened, the tremendous, invisible weight on his shoulders lifting somewhat. He searched Symin's expression for any trace of deceit, but found none. "You're… you're serious?" he breathed. "You're telling the truth?"
Symin offered him a weak smile, nodding. "It's the truth. Trust me — he told me all this himself."
Link's heart nearly exploded out of his chest. He surged toward Symin, blurting, "He's talking?!"
Startled by Link's sudden movements, Symin staggered back, tripping over a tree root and landing on his rear. They stared at each other for a moment before Symin stammered, "W-well, er, he's swearing rather than talking, but yes, he's vocal."
Link froze, his chest heaving. "Oh my goddess…" he gasped. Abruptly exhausted, he leaned into a tree, his head lolling forward. "I didn't kill him, then... He's all right…!"
"Mmm… more or less," Symin replied. Link's head snapped up, recapturing Symin's gaze. He continued, adjusting his glasses, "But we need to examine him, regardless. I... I could use your help."
A shudder rolled through Link. He shook his head against the memory of Maz Koshia hitting the floor, mumbling, "No — I've already done enough…"
"Don't think like that," Symin insisted. "You can't think like that. What happened was…" he swallowed, "...frightening, but you can't dwell on it."
Link scowled into his Malice. "Easy for you to say."
Symin's shoulders sagged. "I know… And I don't pretend to understand what you're going through, but… we have to stay in the present. That's what Purah always says. The present is the only thing we can change. If we dwell in the past, then we're no better off than those who fell before us." He paused, his brows furrowing. He held Link steadfast in his gaze. "I know it hurts, but... We all need you, Link — he needs you. Now, more than ever."
Symin's words managed to pierce Link's anxieties and reach his core. Interestingly enough, he almost echoed something King Rhoam had said, and that stirred something deep inside Link. Hope, perhaps? A sense of duty? He wasn't sure. Either way, the image of Maz Koshia appeared in Link's mind, the faith and support he had put in him warming his frantic thoughts. That was irreplaceable. He was irreplaceable. Maz Koshia had sacrificed the greater portion of his life in service of him. And Link couldn't squander any of that, no matter the circumstances. It wouldn't be fair.
Link released a sigh, his head clearing slightly. "Okay," he agreed, forcing himself to nod. "Okay, I can help."
Symin smiled. "Thank you, Link." He eased himself to his feet. "C'mon, we need to move."
The two of them made their way towards the hill. Link walked with as much haste as he could manage — on top of his sore ribs, he was still shaking off some residual adrenaline, which made him jittery. As they climbed, Symin maintained a bit of distance between him and Link, though Link pretended not to notice. All the while, neither of them spoke. Link was grateful for that. His head, swilling with emotion, pounded in-sync with his Malice.
When they arrived at the entrance of the Shrine, it only then dawned on Link that he would have to go back inside to help Maz Koshia. He stopped dead in his tracks, a bloom of fresh anxiety swelling in his chest.
"Please don't make me go back in there," he breathed.
Symin paused, giving him a pitied look. "If we could do it any other way, we would. I'm sorry." In spite of his words, Link couldn't bring himself to move. Symin went on, speaking tenderly, "Don't be afraid. I'm right here with you. Just concentrate on breathing, okay? Can you do that for me?"
Link's gaze flickered to him. "I-I guess."
Symin began to instruct him, "Okay, just breathe in for four seconds, and breathe out for six seconds. Concentrate on that." Link did as he said, breathing in and out, counting the seconds. Symin nodded. "Good job. C'mon, we'll go together."
"Okay."
Willing his leaden legs to move, Link proceeded with Symin into the darkness. As they descended, Link fixated his attention on his breath, counting as Symin instructed him to. It helped somewhat to distract him, but it was still torture walking down those steps. The darkness made his skin crawl, the sickly-sweet stench in the air exacerbated by Link's adrenaline-fueled senses. But he endured it. Having Symin at his side somehow kept the hysterical fireworks threatening to burst out of him in check.
At last, they arrived at the heart of the Shrine. In the hazy crimson light, Link could make out two figures inside the pedestal chamber. One lay on the ground, motionless, while the other knelt beside them. He could hear a voice, as well, echoing off the walls. Fierce and rapid, it fired off venom-laced threats as if it were stabbing the very air.
" — that fiend! Confound it all! If I ever face him — by Goddess, if I ever face him — I will rip him apart until there's nothing left of him to reincarnate! I don't care if it's not my destiny! I swear it! Upon Hylia's hand, I swear it! Raaargh!"
For some reason, Link began to sweat as he listened to the voice. He knew exactly who it belonged to. The knowledge of that both relieved and terrified him.
Symin, meanwhile, gave a shrug. "What'd I tell you? You didn't kill him."
Swallowing, Link murmured, "Thank Hylia, but… he doesn't sound good." He anxiously glanced at Symin. "How bad is it?" He was almost afraid to find out.
Symin sighed through his nose. "Not sure. We won't know the extent of it until we get him to the lab."
Link's blood chilled at that, but there wasn't any time to waste. Without another word, Link drove himself forward into the pedestal chamber, Symin hot on his heels.
"Maz Koshia?!" Link called out.
Inside the chamber, Purah jumped out of her skin when Link spoke. Knelt beside Maz Koshia, she whirled around to face Link and Symin, gripping her Slate Lite with white knuckles. The monk, however, didn't so much as turn his head to greet them. No, he remained splayed on the floor, flat on his back.
Upon hearing Link's voice, Maz Koshia's scalding tone vanished in an instant, replaced with his usual calm, knowing timbre. Familiar as it was, his voice was scratchy, weak. "Link?! Is that you?!" he cried, his eyes darting wildly around the room.
As Link came closer, he got a clearer view of the monk — for better or worse. They had lifted his veil. Link suddenly realized he had never seen Maz Koshia's eyes before. They somewhat resembled his own: two glowing orbs of pure, turquoise light hovering in empty eye sockets.
But Link's stomach bubbled with guilt when he caught a glimpse of Maz Koshia's neck and his face. His neck was buckled and crooked; Malice had melted patches of his leathery skin off, exposing vertebrae and ancient sinews. His skull was clearly visible in places, particularly around his cheekbones, nasal cavity, and mouth. He didn't look like himself. He looked… skeletal.
Quelling a sudden urge to vomit, Link forced himself forward. "I-I'm here," he said, kneeling beside Maz Koshia and Purah. Link was so engrossed in beholding the monk that he failed to notice Purah shudder away from him like a wounded dog.
Maz Koshia's glowing eyes flew to Link. His expression softened. "Oh, thank the goddesses… You're all right."
Link's jaw locked. He fought off another well of tears as he ran his eyes over the damage he had done. "Maz — I'm sorry," he stammered, his voice shaking. "I'm so sorry."
"Don't apologize," the monk dismissed, catching Link off-guard. "I am sorry. Truly, I am. I shouldn't have pushed you so hard. But when I saw the state of my Shrine… with the culprit standing before me… I lost control." He frowned. "It was wrong of me to do that to you. Can you ever forgive me, hero?"
A breath of relief breezed out of Link. "Of course I can. A thousand times over."
Maz Koshia chuckled and smiled at him. That soothed Link's panic immensely, but it still stirred inside him as the monk's eyes wandered to his arm. Maz Koshia's smile slackened into a line, his gaze clouding over. He gave a short cough.
Clearing his throat, he mused, "Now… what do we do about that?"
Link bowed his head, holding his sludgy wrist. "I don't know…"
Maz Koshia gave him another smile. "We'll figure it out."
Symin then came around, interrupting them. "Maybe we can check it out at the lab?" he proposed. Crouching, he looked to Purah for a moment, waving her over, before he gestured toward the Sheikah Slate on Link's belt. "We need to go back anyway, to take a look at you, Maz Koshia. Link, can you warp us? The Slate can handle it. The monk is in no condition to do it himself."
Link blinked. He had no idea that the Slate could do that. Then again, he hadn't really explored all that it could do. The Slate, meanwhile, vibrated on Link's hip, though only he noticed.
Puzzled, but compliant, Link was about to take up the Slate when Maz Koshia cried out, making them all jump.
"NO!" the monk hollered. He gave another brief cough. "No, I'm not leaving yet. Not until I see for myself what happened here." Everyone turned to him, brows high. He gestured toward the pedestal in the corner with his eyes. "Link — place the Sheikah Slate into the console. I must see the Shrine's logs."
For some strange reason, Link's stomach flushed. He had no idea why. Nevertheless, he did as he was told. He made his way over to the pedestal, unhooked the Slate from his belt, and set it into the slot. The pedestal accepted the Slate, twirling it around before nestling it in its heart.
Without even thinking about what he was doing, Link requested to the Slate, "Show me the Shrine's logs."
The Slate hesitated only slightly before it obliged with a chirp. If you insist, its screen replied.
Maz Koshia, Purah, and Symin's eyes bulged when they beheld Link speaking to the device — at it obeying him. They had never seen it react like that, as if it were alive, somehow. Were they not so stunned, they would have taken notes.
Everyone's eyes were drawn to the chandelier-like structure above the broken resurrection pedestal: a Constellation Display. It had begun to glow brighter, dousing them all in bright red light. With a chime, the Display flashed, unfurling a holographic web of Sheikah text that painted the walls.
Link marveled for a moment before his eyes sifted through the glyphs adrift around him. There were thousands upon thousands of entries of the Shrine's patients, listed back for millennia. It was incredible beholding so much raw data in one place. But one particular entry caught Link's eye. The dates listed on this set were recent, roughly one hundred years prior. And it read his name.
"That one?" Link asked, his heart fluttering.
"Yes — that one," Maz Koshia confirmed.
"Wait, you can read ancient Sheikah?!" Symin gaped.
"Y-yeah — I don't know how, but I can," Link replied. He had never given it a second thought before, but he didn't have time to at the moment.
"Interesting…" the monk mused. "I-I can't turn my head… what does it say?"
Link ran his eyes across the block of text, reading aloud what greeted him:
SEASON OF DIN. 30th DAY. 11:16 PM.
User login: Director Purah
Confirmed. Patient received: Link. Hylian.
Analyzing… … …
Diagnosis confirmed. Begin remedial sequence…
"That was the day we brought you here," Purah murmured. "I-I remember this…"
Link turned to look at her, swallowing a lump in his throat. When she caught him staring, she immediately averted her gaze. Link's brows furrowed. He was unable to get another word out before Maz Koshia urged him, "Keep reading — what else?"
Pulling his gaze from Purah, Link continued.
SEASON OF DIN. 31st DAY. 12:44 AM.
Patient expiry.
Begin embalming sequ — Ḙ͎͖͌͛͟͞͞R͇̰̍͞ř̬̗̩̪́͆͂or
Tracert User:0͕͊1̟͈͚̦͋̋̏̊1̘͈̊͛0͈̟̍͂0̬͑1͇͑1̕͢1͎̦̎̔͜͡0̪̪̪̰̯̓͑̀͛̊1̛͔10̭̤̔̀͠ͅ0̹͔͐̋0̤̃0̮͊1̜̩̔͂̓͢0̛̭͕̜͍̀̄̀1̢̙͈̊̈̋1͚͞0̛̮1͇̒1̯̭̯̌̐̄1̦͈̫͗̈͊0̫̻̂̀͢͞0͖̙̓̀͋ͅ1̪͓̐̈1̢̻̝͊̕͝0͡ͅ1̡̭̯͈̣͛̃̉͊͠1̡̺̠̳͐̌̂͘11͖̫͘͘0͓̙̽͌͠ͅ1̞͖͛̆1̺̎0̲̲̈̀1̢̡̤̆̔̾1͈̏1̛͇̹͎͂͐͗͢0̪́͆͜
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Link didn't make it past expiry before his heart completely stopped.
"Expiry?!" he choked, turning to his companions. "Expiry — wh-what does that mean?!"
But they weren't listening. Their eyes were wide and hollow, their faces totally drained of color… and they were all staring at Link.
"Nayru's Love…!" Maz Koshia breathed.
A burst of feral panic gored a hole in Link's stomach. His skin crawled beneath their gazes. Why weren't they answering him?! Breath surging, he whirled on Maz Koshia, screaming, "WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?!"
The monk swallowed hard. "Link, you — !" he began.
Maz Koshia suddenly plunged into a coughing fit before he could finish his sentence. It was a wet, hacking cough, powerful enough to jerk his head forward. His bones ground in his neck, his chest heaving, but the rest of his body remained motionless.
"Maz?!" Link gasped.
Symin snapped out of his daze, rushing to try to settle the monk's struggling. But he couldn't risk moving him — not with his injuries. Symin shook his head, stating, "He can't breathe — we need to get him back to the lab, now!"
"Nnn-o!" Maz Koshia stammered between coughs. "R-read the r-est!"
"But — " Symin tried to say. But the monk cut him off with another throttled rebuttal, his eyes imploring Link to keep reading.
Sweat had begun to stream down Link's neck. Heart slamming into his ribs, he wrenched his eyes from Maz Koshia and back to the data. Maybe there was something else there?! But no, everything below the line he had read was pure nonsense, the glyphs jumbled and broken.
Apart from one word, near the bottom, wedged amidst the chaos: reanimate. The word sent a shiver down Link's spine. He found with another pang of panic that that command had been logged over a month before the current date.
"All I can read is reanimate," Link flustered, his voice breaking. Maz Koshia gave a guttural gag. "W-what does all this mean?! I don't understand!"
"We'll figure that out later! We need to get him treated now!" Symin commanded above the monk's coughing. "C'mon, Link, warp us to the lab!"
Link wanted answers — he was starved for them — but Maz Koshia's coughing was worsening. He was beginning to choke. They couldn't delay. Link flew over to the pedestal, yanking the Slate from it.
He brought it up to his face, practically shouting at it, "Take us to the Hateno Ancient Tech Lab!"
Better hurry... it mused. We wouldn't want our monk dying on us, would we?
Link's breath caught. He couldn't believe what he was reading. But he never got the chance to investigate the Slate's cryptic words. Almost immediately, crimson light seeped out of the device, coating Link's fingertips. A familiar sensation crept over his body. He had learned his lesson from his last warp; he pinched his eyes shut, holding onto the Slate for dear life as the light consumed him before spreading to Maz Koshia, Symin, and Purah.
In an instant, they were whisked away from the Shrine and placed onto a stone marker in the grass at the lab's doorstep. This time, Link managed to maintain a better hold of himself upon reforming, staying upright. He had only a second to register that the warp had been successful before his attention was jerked toward Maz Koshia, who lay at his feet, suffocating.
Symin ordered Link to grab the monk's ankles while he cradled his neck and head. Meanwhile, Purah scampered ahead of them, throwing open the doors to the lab and clearing a path. Link hesitated for only a second, his gaze flying from the monk's bare feet to the Malice coating his own arm. He worried it would further burn Maz Koshia. But, stowing his fears, he grabbed the monk's ankles and helped Symin lift him.
As tall as he was, Maz Koshia hardly weighed anything; he was mostly bone and leathery skin, making transporting him easy. Even so, his sporadic coughing and the damage to his neck slowed Symin and Link down considerably. Being as gentle as they could, Symin instructed Link to bring the monk onto the raised stage, where they flipped him over to a kneeling position. Minding his neck, they draped him, face-down, across the pedestal beneath the Guidance Stone.
Purah wasted no time firing up her Slate Lite, programming the Guidance Stone to analyze him. The great stone stalactite above began to glow. Now that the monk was upright, Symin was able to help him get up whatever he was choking on. Link stepped away as Symin began to thrust his palm against the monk's back. Link's eyes flickered from Symin, to the Guidance Stone, and finally down to Maz Koshia's feet, where, sure enough, his fears had come to light. A ring of melted skin marred the monk's ankle, exposing part of his heel.
Link didn't get the chance to fret over it, for Maz Koshia gave a sudden, sickening retch, his spine twisting. Something splattered against the stage, but Link couldn't see what it was. Symin blocked it from his view.
Everyone froze. The only sound in the air was the monk's scratchy gasping as he savored his breath. The three Sheikah all stared at whatever he had coughed up, their faces going ashen. Purah and Symin exchanged a horrified glance before Symin turned around, gazing upon Link as if he had just crawled out of a grave.
"Y-you should leave," Symin stammered weakly.
Link took another step back, jaw dropping. "What?! No — no, I'm not leaving!" His voice grew more strained and desperate the more he begged for answers. "I've been in the dark long enough, I need to know what's going on! That's what I came here, for! Please, just tell me!"
Symin looked about to be sick. Turning away from Link, he shook his head, gripping the pedestal. "I can't do that."
Link's eyes blazed in their sockets. "Why NOT?!"
Symin recoiled, pursing his lips. He shook his head again. "I just can't," he repeated. It was infuriating.
Link rapidly grew frantic. He couldn't stop himself. His mind, somewhat stabilized after his outburst in the Shrine, began to fracture again. His blood boiled with corrosive panic.
"Don't do this to me! Please, what happened to me in the Shrine?!" Link shouted. "Tell me SOMETHING! PLEASE!"
As he pelted the Sheikah before him with questions, he was oblivious to the Malice on his arm as it began to seethe, glowing brighter. Purah noticed the curdling of his Malice first. Symin and Maz Koshia followed. They both stiffened. Meanwhile, Purah's face contorted into a mask of terror.
There was a brief, intense pause. Link's desperation hung in the air, but nobody was saying anything. He stared at them all, struggling to comprehend what was happening, why they weren't answering him. But in spite of the disarray in his mind, he knew this: they all knew something he didn't. And it was driving him absolutely mad.
Before he could process what he was doing, he stomped toward them, throwing his arms out. "WHAT ARE YOU NOT TELLING ME?!"
A sudden jolt of pain lanced straight through Link's chest, piercing his heart and stealing his breath. He dropped to his knees, clutching his arm, doubling over as it boiled and throbbed beneath his grip. An inexplicable chill slithered up his spine, chattering his teeth. Everyone watched in transfixed horror as his Malice crawled across his shoulder, spreading to his neck, wrapping around his throat.
The silence that followed was deafening. No one moved. No one even breathed. Not until a whimper burst out of Purah. Everyone's gaze was torn from Link and to her as she scrambled away from them and cowered against the wall. She covered her eyes, crumbling into sobs.
Link's blood iced over as he stared, emptily, at the poor girl. "...Purah...?" he whispered.
She retreated further into herself, shaking her head wildly.
Time seemed to stop for Link. In reality, he only beheld her for a brief second. He was helpless to withstand the complete reversal of his mental state, succumbing to the degradation of his resolve. His heart shriveled inside him, dissolving into his body until he could no longer feel… anything. Not as it bashed itself senseless against his ribs, not his head swimming from his nonexistent breath, not the erratic pulsations of his Malice. In that moment, he didn't even feel human.
How could he? He wasn't. Not anymore.
And then it hit him, like a mountain crashing on his head. Dear Hylia… what was he doing? What was he becoming? On his hip, the Sheikah Slate warmed, its lights glittering subtly. It knew exactly what he was becoming. It was as plain as the horror in Purah's eyes.
"Link," came a voice, cutting through the heavy air.
Link was pulled out of himself and to Maz Koshia. He still knelt beneath the Guidance Stone, his arms dangling worthlessly at his sides. But his eye was honed in on Link — and only Link. Purah and Symin may as well have been nonexistent. The monk held Link in an iron grip, latching onto his very soul, it seemed. Link shuddered, drenched in an all-encompassing dread as he knelt, paralyzed, before the monk.
But Maz Koshia's following words were not delivered to strike Link down for his monstrous reaction. No, they were earnest, raw, imploring. Weak, even.
"Listen to me," Maz Koshia began. "I know you're scared... I'm scared, too. More than I have ever been in all my life…" His eyes pinched. "But we will conquer this. Together. You have to believe that."
Link's brain had gone numb. He had no idea how to respond. But he couldn't have even if he wanted to. His throat was cinched too tight to allow anything other than a wisp of breath out. All he could do was cling to his writhing Malice, staring into Maz Koshia's eyes.
Maz Koshia held him firmly in his ancient gaze. "Do you trust me, hero?" he asked him.
A painful pause. How could he call him that?
"Yes," Link whispered.
"Then trust me when I say that... we will figure this out. We will talk later. About everything. I promise." Swallowing, Maz Koshia continued, beseeching him, "For now… you must calm down. Your fear is feeding it."
Link's grip on his Malice tightened, his stomach clenching. Sweat crawled down his face.
"Take some time…" Maz Koshia continued. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm afraid it's not ideal, but you… you cannot stay. It's for the best."
Symin, his head bowed, murmured, "There's a small lake nearby."
"Go there, Link. It will be all right," Maz Koshia said, offering him as much of a reassuring smile as he could muster. Link only then noticed that something dark was running out of his mouth. But the monk didn't acknowledge it, urging him further, "Go. Please. We will discuss everything… later."
Link didn't argue. He didn't have the strength or dexterity to. Not anymore. His fear and panic had devastated his body beyond reaction. He gave no mental input into his movements. Something seemed to carry his empty body along as he swallowed thickly, standing on shaking legs. Without a word, Link turned and stumbled out of the lab, glazed eyes fixed into nothing as he went.
The moment he was on the lab's doorstep, the front doors slammed shut behind him. Link sucked in a strangled gasp, his eyes stinging.
He stood there for a moment, his legs leaden. He couldn't go back. Not yet, so the monk had said. So Link shuffled across the grass. He made it as far as the hillside, where he stopped at the edge. Below him, nestled atop the clifftop, lay a curved, glittering lake, trees lining its banks. An island sat at the heart of the lake, its sole occupant a colossal oak tree. It was a peaceful spot. Under fairer circumstances, Link would have appreciated it better. But not now. It was merely the place he was being sent to to relax. His legs dragged him toward it.
Link didn't even register the trip over to the lake. He was just suddenly… there. He sunk to his knees at the water's edge. Bathed in the cool shade of a tree, a passing breeze tousled his hair, but he couldn't feel it. Even his tough, sinewy Malice he couldn't feel as he unconsciously crushed it till his fingers locked up. He remained still for a while, staring across the water.
Relax, Maz Koshia had begged of him. Relax. The word didn't even sound real.
How could Link even begin to do that? To relax? After all that had happened? After all the damage he had wreaked — physically, mentally, maybe even spiritually — to himself, to Maz Koshia, to Symin… to Purah. The mere concept of relaxing seemed astronomically impossible, even in his unfeeling state.
But the longer he knelt at the lakeside, the more his numbness began to wear off. It was slow at first, but gradually, feeling returned to him, like his body was waking up from a nightmare — his ribs ached, his gut seethed, his throat strained. He doubled over, propping himself up on the shoreline. Grunting and gasping, Link began to squirm as he endured the incessant pulsations of his Malice; his skin crawled against the fresh patch of it that now encircled his neck like a noose.
Averting his eyes it, he found himself staring into his reflection in the water. He looked ghastly. His eyes — all three of them — glowed with anxious light. His hair was disheveled. Dark spots of sweat stained his tunic. And just as on the Great Plateau, small tufts of grass clinging to the shoreline burned beneath his Malice-slathered palm, wisps of smoke caressing his bone mask.
Link's breath began to rush in and out of his shriveled lungs as his eyes crawled from his hand and up his forearm. Gritting his jaw, he began to claw at his Malice again, his breath hissing between his teeth. The action did nothing but run his fingernails ragged. But he didn't care. He had to get it off. He had to get it off somehow.
"C'mon…" he wheezed. "Come off…! Come off!"
Shuffling forward on his knees, Link plunged his arm into the lake, endeavoring to wash off his Malice. He dug his fingertips into it, carving deep grooves in its thick, sinewy sludge. For a moment, he thought he was making some progress, his breath igniting with hope. Faint clouds of magenta and black whispered in the water. A wild grin seizing his face, Link brought his arm out of the water, inspecting it. But his fluttering heart dropped into his stomach. His Malice was unchanged, apart from a few new additions: his dislodged fingernails studding his forearm. Link's panicked gaze flew to his normal hand — to his blood leaking out of his fingertips.
Link's gut wrenched. Shaking violently, he finally gave up, slamming his hands against his head.
"Argh!" he howled, shattering the quiet lakeside. "I hate you — I hate you!" he gasped. To whom he was screaming at, he didn't know.
It went quiet for a while as Link continued to gasp and writhe. But he jumped out of his skin when a familiar chirping sound interrupted his mental spiral.
He blinked, going stiff. He slowly turned his head down toward his hip, where the Sheikah Slate lay. Its lights winked at him, trying to get his attention.
With a trembling hand, he plucked the device from his hip, glancing at its screen.
Why do you hate your Malice, Master? It asked him.
Link swallowed hard. With his mind as numb with loathing as it was, he barely processed that the Slate was actively speaking to him — that it had been listening to his anguish. It never crossed his mind how bizarre and unnatural it was. All he could register at that moment was that someone — rather, something — was concerned for him. He replied to it without even thinking.
"You know why," he grunted. "You know what I've done." He hung his head, heavy with painful memories, his Malice-laced fist closing. "It's turned me into a monster. I'm no better than that beast!"
No, the Slate disagreed.
Link blinked. "W-what?"
Not a monster. Blessed.
Link's face contorted. What was the Slate even saying? He couldn't fathom it. Link's grip tightened on the device as he hissed, "This is no blessing. I hate this."
You shouldn't, the device replied. Link gaped when the Slate added, You rose for a glorious purpose.
Its lights blipped for a moment before its response dissolved off the screen, replaced by the crimson Sheikah eye.
Link's face flushed with anxious heat. Purpose? What was the Slate talking about?
"Wait, what do you mean?!" Link tried to ask. "What — ?!" But the Slate remained silent, simply staring at him.
Link just about crushed the Slate in his desperation for answers. "Tell me something! Anything!" No reply from the Slate. Link's eyes flashed. "What do you want from me?!" he snarled.
The Slate didn't answer immediately. But when it did, its response chilled Link's blood.
I already have what I want.
Without another word, the Slate proceeded to place itself in standby mode, its screen flushing blank. All that reflected in its screen was Link's petrified face.
Link choked and shook his head, trying to comprehend what he had just seen. He leaned back, scarcely breathing. The Slate slipped from his hand into the grass. As his heart began to race, so did the pulsations of his Malice, again. He grit his teeth, gripping his beating, sludgy forearm.
His mind raced. He had no idea what to make of all this. The ghosts of his conversation with the Slate loomed in his mind, but they gradually faded away as memories of earlier bled back into his thoughts. His examinations. Journeying to the Shrine of Resurrection. The morbid scene he found there. What he'd done to Maz Koshia. The Shrine's logs —
Link stopped cold, his mind bleeding with the words he had read.
Patient expiry.
Link's stomach burned. The brief moments he had spent reading the Shrine's logs had been as enlightening as they were disturbing. They had served their purpose, yes, but he couldn't for the life of him understand what he had read. But that didn't stop his shattered mind from trying.
Before, he had been too frantic to fully internalize what those words meant. But not then. The silence that the Slate had left him with dominated his mind, paving the way for clearer, more rational thought. And as Link allowed those thoughts to connect, a world-shattering, haunting realization seeped into him, rotting him to his corrupted core.
Patient expiry.
He had died in the Shrine.
And Maz Koshia, Symin, and Purah had been too horrified to say it.
"Oh my goddess…" Link breathed.
…Oh no.
Things are starting to get serious! Honestly, I spent most of my revision time trying to really nail a panic attack. I haven't personally experienced them, but I wanted to drive home just how frantic and terrified Link gets in this chapter - multiple times! I can't imagine how horrible it is to experience that level of fear. To all you who suffer from panic attacks, I commend you. You are braver and stronger than you think you are.
I also hope this chapter wasn't too much all at once. I worry sometimes that my writing might get too angsty in places, and I personally hate reading writing that gets too intense. Let me know if you think I should dial it down a few notches. Either way, I hope I conveyed Link's pain and struggles here.
Ooh, I hope that glitchy text from the corrupted Shrine logs displays correctly! I hid a little message in there. Maybe you can decipher it?
But serious talk for a second, here. Friends, the world is a bit of a scary place right now. It's getting worse every day. Often, I find myself overwhelmed by all the problems and paranoia and fear out there. This may sound silly, but I've come to realize that this story has helped me to internalize some of my anxieties and put them on paper so I can understand them better. Granted, I don't suffer from corruption via a centuries-old demon, but we all have our battles we fight. I hope that this story is as much entertaining and interesting for you as it is therapeutic for me. Time and time again, it has been a welcome means of escapism for me, and I hope it can be the same for you.
So thank you so much for reading! I hope you continue on this journey with me and that you enjoy it as it progresses. Poor Link… He's got quite a road ahead of him, and I can't wait to bring you along.
Until next chapter, friends. Stay strong, stay healthy, stay happy. :)
- Sammy
v.1.2