Hi! It's good to hear from you guys again!

The headmaster in particular always really jarred me almost right out of the game. It's like he just doesn't care, like whoever wrote him forgot he had any function other than a minor help mechanic and certainly wasn't related to anyone who might be found in this quest. The rest of Skyloft not knowing isn't quite as bad in that at least few enough people probably do know what's going on right at the start of the game that it could probably be kept from them, but you'd think they'd at least ask. Especially if there are really as few of them as the game makes out, rather than a whole town full! So yeah, one of my big motivations for my Skyloft edits has been to fix those things somewhat. ;-)

Chapter 38: Uncertainty and Distress

A long explanation and a desperately-needed bath later, Link hurried out of the Academy before another set of classes could end, hoping to escape having to answer any questions. He could sense his loftwing still basking in Parrow's attention, discomfort neither had fully realised the bird was feeling expertly groomed away. They couldn't fly until it was done, and Link's steps across the bridges that led up to the Isle of the Goddess slowed as he neared it, gazing up at the goddess' benevolent stone face, the chin framed between her small, folded wings. Erosion had battered the small island dreadfully, leaving parts of its walls tumbled and the half-dome that shielded the gateway ragged despite the loving repointing of its mortar and repainting of its blue and gold decorations, but the statue was made of sterner stuff: the generations only seemed to have brought a little blurring to her carved features or the drapes of her stone robe. Each of his steps brought her head closer to vanishing behind the dome: mouth, then nose, then blank stone eyes, until he could only see the lightly clouded blue sky.

Did the goddess watch him? Why had she chosen him, and Zelda, for whatever her mysterious purpose was? Fi's words came back to him once again with a chill like a cloud passing over the sun: the shadow of apocalypse…

Why them? What had Zelda known that had made her turn and go, without even stopping to tell him why? The Sheikah with her had known – something they had discussed – but hadn't told him either. Could Ireya and Davar have told him? He'd wanted to ask them so much, but he hadn't had the time. A cold fist seemed to clench in his chest as he thought of them, thought of Davar, left lying bleeding on the stone floor by a blow that could as easily have been meant for Link. Was he alive? Was Ireya even now watching over him, or were she and the rest of her people in mourning for the death of one of their own?

If he'd been faster, better, would it have happened?

If he'd known what he was doing and why he was there, if he'd asked enough to know whatever it was that Zelda knew, would he have known to warn them?

Life is danger, chosen one. Would they have listened?

Would Zelda have listened, if he'd known what to say to her?

Would she be safe?

He thought of an out of place sword with white-wrapped hilt, and of a crude prison cell, and the chains within it. No, she wouldn't be safe, not even remotely, and for all that she had one of the Sheikah with her now, that might not be enough. There was nothing for it: he had to hurry.

Sunlight fell across his face unexpectedly and he looked up, surprised. Lost in his reverie, he'd walked automatically across the ancient flagstones, beneath the curved roof, and through the gateway without even realising it, until he stood in the green walled courtyard that surrounded the statue of the goddess, the midday sun shining down upon him with all its warmth in the still air. Link looked up at the goddess' serene stone face, only just visible above her folded hands, and sighed.

Why…?

There was no answer. There never had been. Not even Father Kaeber claimed to directly hear the words of the goddess. Link had seen great Levias once, at a festival in his honour four or five years ago, and his deep, resonant voice could be heard clear across the island, but the goddess… she was a greater spirit, and of a different, more distant kind. Her gifts were all around them: the islands and the loftwings; their wide blue sky; their safety high above the shield of cloud below. She loved her people, it was always said, and they had always loved her, but their prayers or even entreaties were never answered with something so clear as a voice.

Link started as Fi sprang from the sword to hover beside him, blank eyes seeming to gaze right through him.

"I detect that you are experiencing a significant level of uncertainty and distress, Master."

"Yeah, Fi," he said quietly, on a sigh. "I guess I am."

She drifted beside him as he walked forwards, one knee bent, that foot tipped slightly as if caught partway through taking a step. A wind that had nothing to do with the real wind gusting by outside the high walls rippled the metallic drapery of her arms.

"Why are we doing this, Fi? I mean – I know I took you to help me find Zelda. You told me you would, and that was all that really mattered. But why is all of this happening? I feel like I don't understand anything any more. When we saw Zelda, she-" It hurt, a little, just to talk about, just to remember. "She seemed to think she had to do something, something she thought was more important than coming back here or telling her dad she's okay or even telling me. I went to the surface e-even though it's supposed to be impossible to look for my best friend, but everyone else – you and the Sheikah and even Zelda – all seem to know something else is going on, something big." He sighed, tipping his head back briefly, catching a glimpse of the goddess' stone toes peeking out from beneath her robe before looking down again as he stepped into the cool gloom of the staircase that led to the secret chamber beneath the statue, keeping to the left so that Fi could float alongside to his right. "Something so important, it's like I'm the only one who still thinks looking for my friend because she's my friend and she's lost even matters."

Fi was silent for several moments, but Link had the sense that it was because she was thinking, composing her response.

"Your reasons for undertaking this quest speak to the nature of your spirit, Master Link. This is the reason that you were chosen by the goddess, and that I was created to aid you. However, you are also correct that you lack knowledge possessed by others about the journey you have embarked upon. It is clear that the information that I provided you with previously was insufficient. What do you wish to know?"

Link thought about it as he stepped out into the Chamber of the Goddess and watched the orbs of light glow into being and take up their station, illuminating the dark room.

"What's the shadow of apocalypse?"

"The shadow of apocalypse refers to the demons that currently inhabit the lands below, in particular their master." Did she seem ever so faintly pleased? Her tone was as it always was, her calm expression opaque, but Link still had the feeling that she thought he'd asked the right question.

"Ghirahim?"

Fi shook her head, the motion graceful. "Although Ghirahim is a powerful demon, he is not the most powerful to have existed." Was there something else beneath the calm melody of her words? Link strained to make it out. "He is the servant of one more powerful still, who is described as casting the shadow of apocalypse."

"So… I have to defeat a demon… more powerful than Ghirahim?"

"In essence, Master. That is the purpose for which I was created for you to wield. Only when united with the spirit maiden, having both faced the trials before you, are you intended to attempt this task."

"And, uh…" Link frowned, trying to think of a way to phrase it that wouldn't sound like he was turning his back on her, on all of it. "Just so I know… what would happen if I didn't, if I failed?"

"It is probable that the entire world would ultimately be consumed, Master Link."

Link swallowed. Fi's calm, factual delivery combined with her seemingly near-limitless knowledge made her impossible to disbelieve.

"No pressure, huh…" The enormity of it was ridiculous, impossible. "Is… that why you're afraid of him? Ghirahim? You hate him, don't you?"

Fi's silence suddenly seemed absolute, her stillness transmuted to motionlessness. The few seconds it lasted felt like forever, a crushing blow, something immense and terrible looming over the core of his being. The feeling lifted in the instant before she spoke.

"No, Master. I am not designed to be capable of emotion. Although it is natural for you to attempt to perceive it in me, I do not possess it."

"I, uh, right, sorry – I'm sorry." Link knew his reaction was out of proportion to her words, but he couldn't help himself. Something had happened when he'd asked that question, something had shifted just for a few seconds, and he didn't think it was him. Even though the feeling had vanished, fading rapidly into his memory, he didn't think he'd just made it up.

"It is not necessary for you to apologise, Master Link." Fi paused for another long moment, but this one had none of the strangeness to it: he felt she was thinking, assessing – as indeed she was. It was clear that he had detected the aberrations in her behaviour. She had learnt long before that attempting to analyse the errors in her programming inevitably produced further errors, and could not calculate the probability that attempting to explain them would produce the same result. Equally, however, it was indisputable that her master was aware of their consequences. It was also indisputable that a previously unknown flaw in his sword, encountered at a key moment, could lead to his death.

"You are correct in your observation that my behaviour alters in the presence of Ghirahim," she told him, and Link felt as though he should hold his breath. "I cannot assess whether discussing the error with you would be beneficial to the correction of it. However, since it has affected my function to a noticeable degree, it is imperative that you are made aware of it." She paused, analytical and deductive processes inwardly racing, attempting to route around the error in a manner that would permit her to explain it. "The sword was used in battle against the demon Ghirahim approximately one thousand years ago. Although I did not sustain physical damage, it is apparent that some errors were introduced into my programming as a consequence. I cannot analyse and repair these errors, since any attempt to assess them causes an error in my internal analyses. It is this flaw that has resulted in the differences in behaviour that you have observed."

"I see," Link said slowly. He wasn't entirely sure that he did, but it was more than he'd known before. Another thought caught up to him, shot through with concern. "When we fought him before, at that temple in the forest – did that hurt you?"

"No, Master Link," Fi replied, and Link breathed out in silent relief. She was okay. "I conducted a full analysis during the subsequent night, while you slept. No further errors were introduced by the combat."

"Good," he said, heartfelt.

"In addition," Fi continued, "I have begun to develop methods of routing around the errors where possible. In some circumstances this may result in my being able to provide you with more limited data than would otherwise be the case. Due to my inability to analyse the primary error, however, it is still possible with unknown probability that it may be encountered without warning."

Link nodded, slowly. "I understand. Is there anything I can do to help if it is?"

"I am not aware of any such course of action, Master. I will inform you if I determine one."

"Okay." He looked at her, old and young, perfect and damaged, emotionless as always, and reached back over his shoulder to rest his hand on the sword's cool hilt. Though it had only been a few days since they met, it felt reassuring under his fingers, and part of him hoped it might feel the same way to her. He couldn't touch her shoulder, but she was, after all, part of the sword.

Fi looked on impassively, and he slowly lowered his hand again, feeling a little silly. Reassurance was an emotion too, wasn't it?

"If you… if you want to talk about this error to me, you can. But you don't have to, either. I don't know if it'd help or not, but I don't know anything else I can do right now, so if you think telling me more about it might help, then you can do that, and if it won't help, you don't have to. And if there's anything you don't want me to ask about… like Ghirahim… tell me and I won't." He paused, and Fi simply nodded. Explaining himself to her seemed both easier and harder than to most people. She said she couldn't feel fear, or hate, but it was the only way he could understand to interpret her reactions. It was like Ghirahim had done something terrible to her, and if he'd damaged her somehow, then Link supposed he had. It made sense of the way he'd taunted them, taunted Fi – and all at once, the last piece fell into place.

"That fight with Ghirahim. That's what killed your previous wielder, isn't it?" He'd blurted the words out before thinking, before he could stop himself, and in the single moment of utter silence he mentally kicked himself for even opening his mouth. He'd just said he wouldn't make her talk about it, said he wouldn't talk about it, if there was anything she wouldn't want him to talk about it would be that-

"Yes," Fi said, simply, the single word so brief and short that it was almost impossible to hear any trace of melody in it, whether it was there or not.

"I'm really sorry, Fi." His hand was back on the hilt of the sword, and this time he didn't remove it. "I'm really, really sorry."

"Your deduction was correct, Master Link. It is not necessary for you to apologise."

"Well, I think it is," he said quietly. Once again, Fi considered her options.

"Then I accept your apology in accordance with your social customs." She regarded him for a long moment. "You should complete the task that brought you to this location, Master Link."

What? The tablet… "Oh, right. The tablet." The conversation had been so important, the fact that he still had to place the tablet had been almost driven from his mind. "Okay, Fi."

Once again, his words were soft. Maybe she didn't understand, but if she chose to change the subject, Link would definitely let her. Lowering his hand from the sword, he took out the heavy stone slab with its broken edge, crossed the room still carrying it – avoiding the pedestal where the sword had stood, four days that felt like half a lifetime ago – and slotted it into place. It fit snugly on the left-hand side, completing the carved map, and just as the others had, the gem set into it glowed with an inner light as he felt a rush of power flow upwards through the room around him.

"I've confirmed the location of a third opening in the cloud barrier in the sky to the southwest," Fi informed him. "It will allow you to reach the Lanayru region of the surface. I suggest going there as soon as you are suitably prepared."

Link nodded, turning from the map to leave the chamber. "What preparations do you think I need to make, Fi?"

"Since the Lanayru region is a barren desert," Fi said, floating alongside, "you are advised to retain your heat protection. I also recommend carrying significantly more water than you have on previous ventures. I cannot calculate the probability that water will be available to you once you are upon the surface."

The floating lights in the room, as always, faded at their departure.

I'm going to be busy next weekend, so while I will try and get the chapter written beforehand, I may not succeed, and you may not get a chapter next Sunday. If that happens, sorry! I will try to have it all ready to post so I can just log in and hit the 'Post Chapter' button, but no promises.

I had fun writing this one. I didn't expect it to go anything like how it did, but that's just how things are around here, I guess! Poor Fi, though, huh?

Patch Notes:
- Link holds actual conversations with his permanent companion.
- Plot threads interweave throughout, some continued from the backstory.