I - The Arrival
Red speckles danced in the gusts of a late summer breeze, and eventually dissolved in the starry night sky. Paya loosened her braid and let the wind refresh her heated skin. She had been training alone for hours, barely aware that day had turned into early night and that the busy training ground had emptied. She looked at the crackling bonfires, sheathed her shortsword, and made her way back to the main temple hall. Wiping off the sweat from her forehead and readjusting the red face cover, she climbed the stairs, pushed the doors open, and slipped into the cool hall. A few pairs of red eyes studied her as she made her way to a lonely seat at the other end of the room, but most were busy emptying their plates. Paya paid them no heed; being of mixed race, she was used to feeling like she did not belong.
Telma brought her a plate and sat down beside her. "Here you are, love. Never mind them, they are a bunch of bitter, old men."
Paya gave her a tired smile. Telma was a kind but strong woman in her early forties and Paya's only friend; the only one who showed her empathy when everyone else was fussing about her heritage. Telma was a half-blood like herself, a fact that created a common ground and a reason to stick together. Paya never asked how she came to Karusa Valley and why, but needing to keep her own heritage a secret, she thought it better to leave the question unspoken.
The door suddenly flung open and banged against the wall, causing Paya to almost choke on her food.
"Get inside, you traitor!" Valen's loud voice echoed in the halls, demanding even the last person's attention. Paya lifted her head, and leaned back in her chair to see what was going on. The Yiga leader entered the hall, dragging a person along whose braid he held in his right fist. He pushed them down on their knees and the person kept their head low, staring at the stone floor. The first thing that Paya noticed was the clothing that was undeniably Sheikah, and yet totally unfamiliar. All Yiga wore the same, tight warrior clothes, dyed red and black, but the stranger's garments were coloured in two different hues of dark blue with bandages wound around the lower arms. The most striking feature, though, was the huge symbol on their chest: the traditional Sheikah eye. Paya looked at Telma whose brows were furrowed.
"What do you want? Why did you come here?" Valen tightened his grip on the fair braid in his hand.
The stranger squirmed under his firm grasp, trying to wriggle free. It was only when Valen pulled their head back that Paya was able to catch a glimpse of the intruder's face. They were a young male Sheikah, with slightly tanned skin and long, silver-blond hair. The bandages around his head had loosened and now fell messily around his face, the shawl-like face cover hung loosely around his neck, but his face remained in the shade.
The Sheikah didn't answer and tried to reach out for the daggers hidden under his greaves instead. Valen saw the movement and crushed the intruder's hand under his foot.
The stranger groaned. "Let go of me," he hissed under clenched teeth.
"Answer my question!"
He pulled the man's head even more back.
"Look at him!" he shouted, "the great Sheikah eye! A spy and a traitor!"
Paya expected a murmur to go through the crowd, but the Yiga members were surprisingly silent. They all just had stopped eating and stared at the figure on the ground.
The stranger flashed the Yiga leader an angry look, but was unable to move.
"I'm not a spy," he finally said, "I sought you out."
Valen's eyes bore into his. "I'll give you some time to think about how to save your ass. In the dungeon." He finally let go of his hair, and the latter stayed flat on the ground, readjusting the shawl around his face.
"Strip him off his weapons and take him to a cell. Make sure he is taken care of."
Two of Valen's most loyal men, Sorren and Regon, grabbed the stranger under his arms and dragged him off. It had become eerily quiet in the dining hall, and Paya's appetite was gone.
Paya's training the next morning was interrupted by Sorren who approached her just as she was throwing a kunai at a wooden training pole. It missed its mark and disappeared somewhere in a tuft of grass.
"You," he said as he waited for her to come closer, "Valen wants you to go check on the prisoner. Bring him some water."
"Me?"
"Do you see anyone else? Now go. And don't do anything stupid," he grumbled, giving her a warning look.
Paya waited until he was out of sight before climbing over the fence and walking back to the armoury to store her weapons away. As she entered the small house at the end of the village, entirely used for cooking and storing provisions, Telma was busy baking bread and making omelette.
"Paya!" she called, "are you going to see the prisoner? I know that Valen forbade to give him food, but...take this bread. Just don't let anyone see it."
Paya stuffed the small loaf under her shirt and grabbed the bucket from the shelf. She stole out of the kitchen, fetched some water from the well, and walked down to the dungeons. The air inside was dry and old, and she lit a torch, carrying it in her free hand while she made her way to the cells. At the end of the corridor, behind thick metal bars, she saw a shadow move in a corner. As she approached the cell, her hands shook a little.
The stranger lifted his head when she was standing in front of his cell. In the dim light, she saw a huge bruise that coloured the left side of his face in different shades of purple.
"I brought you some water and something to eat," she said hesitantly. The prisoner didn't answer, so she squeezed her hand through the bars to hand him the loaf of bread. In a matter of seconds, he was up and grabbed her wrist. She shrieked and dropped the loaf, trying to back up, but he held her wrist tightly.
"What are you doing? Let me go!"
He brought his face closer to the bars, and examined her with his intense, red eyes. A large scar ran from the corner of his mouth up to his ear.
"I know you," he said calmly.
"W-what?" Her voice came out as a croak.
"I saw you in Kakariko. You're one of them."
She felt goosebumps cover her bare arms, her face turning pale. "W-who are you?"
"What could your business with the Yiga be?"
She bobbed up, knocking over the bucket, and finally managed to release her wrist from his grip. The young man's eyes followed the bucket's movement as the water spilled all over the stone floor.
"That's a pity. I was thirsty."
Paya stared at him with a beating heart. He scared her.
"Tell me, half-blood, do I make you nervous? Are you frightened?" His fingers grabbed a steel bar, and he pressed is face against it. "Did Impa send you?"
Paya felt as if all blood was drained from her body. He could not possibly know her, could not possibly have seen her before. She reckoned that he must be bluffing.
He chuckled. "Did I hit a nerve?"
"What's going on down there?" someone called from the top of the stairs. Before long, Regon's face appeared in the corridor. He was carrying iron hand cuffs and a heavy chain that he dragged over the floor.
"Leave," he said to Paya as he pulled the key to the cell out of his pocket.
The young woman grabbed the bucket, and without looking back, she hurried to get out of the dungeon. The muffled screams of the prisoner resounded in the dark place as the heavy chain made contact with his ribcage.
Paya shifted uncomfortably on her seat as she sat among the Yiga in the dining hall. She felt watched. As if they knew. As if suddenly everyone knew. The prisoner's words were still in her head. He couldn't possibly know about her ties to Impa - and yet, he knew Impa. A pure-blooded Sheikah. The leader of the loyal fraction and the one they called traitor. Her grandmother.
She felt Sorren's eyes on her as she nervously peeled a banana. I saw you with Impa. The banana felt like a lump in her throat as she tried to swallow it. Something deep inside her guts told her that the Sheikah's arrival would change everything and threaten her existence.
Valen had decided to keep the stranger in a cell a bit longer and appointed her, Paya, the prisoner's caretaker. Although she dreaded the thought of returning to the dungeon, she fetched his breakfast from the kitchen every morning, made her way down the dark stairs, and put the tray on the hatch of his cell. The Sheikah accepted the food without saying a word, but his cold eyes watched her calmly as he ate. Although he was allowed food and drinking water two times a day, Valen had denied him soap to clean himself. The Sheikah was well aware that he started to reek, and Paya kept her distance for her own sake. She did not dare talk to him, afraid he could bring up matters and facts that could threaten her life among the Yiga.
Although the Sheikah were a proud race, the dark, cold and damp prison soon left its marks on the prisoner. He looked broken, and although he still scared Paya, he also interested her in ways she did not fully understand. There was something about his brittle personality that made him dangerous, but also strangely fascinating.
One evening, upon entering the dungeon with a tray in her hand, she found the cell to be empty apart from a rat that was searching for leftover food. She felt a small tug in her chest, set down the tray, and quickly made her way towards the square behind the temple hall. The Sheikah was crouching in the sand, kept down by the Yiga leader's foot on his back.
"Now, tell me, traitor," Valen spat, "how much is your life worth to them? How much did they pay you to spy on us?"
The Sheikah snorted, a rough laugh like dry leaves rustling in the wind. "What makes you think I came all the way from Kakariko?"
Valen glared at him. "Why are you here?"
"To join you."
Now it was Valen's turn to snort. "Why would the great Sheikah join the Yiga?"
The Sheikah's eyes glanced over to Paya as he spotted her, lingering on her form for a short moment. She nervously took a step back.
"You are Sheikah as well. The Yiga are outcasts, just like myself. You think I have an alliance with Kakariko? You know nothing about me."
"You are wearing the great eye on your chest. It's the sign of the loyal fraction, is it not?"
"It portrays the old ways of the Sheikah. Not the ones who bow to the king."
"Why should I believe you?"
Sheik frowned. "Why do you believe her?" His eyes flashed defiantly as he looked at Paya.
Something in Valen's expression changed, though barely visible, and Sheik knew that he had hit something. Paya froze. Her heart was beating violently in her chest.
"I came here because we have the same enemy. I've since long turned my back on Impa and Kakariko. I want justice for my people just as much as you do. Doesn't that make us equal in our ambitions?"
There was a short break in which neither said another word. While Valen was pondering over the prisoner's lot, Paya watched them fearfully. The Sheikah's words stung. He had threatened her once again, and this time in front of the whole clan. If Valen ever found out about her true heritage, he would have her hanged without hesitation.
"Get yourself cleaned up. You reek," Valen finally said in a now calm voice, "Sorren will show you to your chamber."
The Sheikah slowly stood up, his legs supporting his own weight only shakily. His red eyes bore into Paya's, cold and piercing. Unforgiving. And she knew that she was no longer safe.
