The last thing Fi felt was cold as her master's warm, bloodied hand fell loose.

The first thing she saw was blue.

She was projected out of her body, floating and ethereal in a strange building. Around the room glowed blue markings, brighter than water, but with that same, calming feeling.

It had been. . .years, since she had projected. Most of her memories had been through her many masters, whom she could hear speak, and knew their hero title; but she could not see. Whatever had happened after Master - Link, Sky - defeated Demise, when she had gone to rest, she hadn't been able to leave her body.

She suspected it was Hylia, but for what reason, she didn't know.

Her current master - Champion Link - titleless since he pulled her - had been quiet, more so than any past life. He could speak, she suspected he enjoyed speaking, but it seemed he had taken some vow of silence, for whatever silly reason.

(It's been hundreds of thousands of years, and Fi. . .she wasn't as expressive as a human, she didn't feel emotions quite the same, but she did feel. Inexplicable fondness for her first Master, protectiveness for the others, the frustration of inaction, adrenaline during a fight. She was a soul, after all; living, all the same.)

So, Fi appearing in a mysterious room, far from her own body, with a blip in her awareness meaning she had been. . .between masters, so to speak. Well.

She shot some kind of look towards the ceiling.

Then there was a sound, and the mound in the middle of the room moved.

With the grating of weathered stone it opened, like a horizontal temple door, the lid retracting up towards the ceiling instead of swinging out. Fi drifted closer, the sound of liquid that wasn't water draining.

With a gasp, a figure sat up.

Link.

He was. . .she wouldn't say wrong. Every Link that had followed after her Master had had the same spirit that she now felt, but they were each their own individuals. This Link was still her most recent master, but. . .something was different.

He didn't acknowledge her, so she assumed she wasn't visible at the moment.

He seemed to be listening to something she couldn't- but wait. Faint, she could sense the presence of Wisdom and Hylia, so he was probably hearing his Zelda.

With a grunt, Link pulled himself from the mound, stumbling like a newborn foal. After a moment he managed to orient himself. He gazed about in puzzlement, like he wasn't sure what to make of his surroundings.

Fi drifted closer.

She hovered just over his shoulder, watched as he picked up some piece of Sheikah technology, fumbling with it. Fi wasn't quite sure what to make of it, herself.

So, she looked at Link.

This close, she could see shiny, pink scar tissue and new skin, intermingling. It covered half of his face, and his ear; his throat down his chest. His legs had some odd, splashing burns as well, but the majority of injury seemed to be laser burn. It was . . .horrific.

Ah. So her master had come close to death.

She felt a flicker of anger - had the chosen of Hylia not faced enough? - but didn't focus on it. Overall, his scaring was visible, but it seemed that the mound he was in healed enough that it didn't go too deep. He would have pain for the rest of his life, but not as extensive, or debilitating, as it could have been.

Plus, he wasn't dead.

Calculations shifted and changed in the back of her mind - there were too many missing values to know exactly what his chances had been, but she was glad all the same for the soothing numbers. Even if the percentages weren't in his favor.

She remembers another hero of hers - the hero of time. Time had faced some nasty injury too, but she knows he had lived well, and happy. Even with loss of vision in one eye. It was nowhere near the same as what this Link faced, but it brought her some comfort all the same. He could live despite, and could be happy.

. . .and so lost in thought it took her a moment to realize that the spirit of courage had fallen out of her range, so she flew to catch up.

Link stepped out of the shrine and watched the world with new eyes. Fi suspected he had some sort of severe memory loss.

Wide-eyed with wonder he looked around at the light reflecting the world to him, the breeze playing through the leaves and brushing the grass. There was something endearing, watching him view the world a-new. Fi floated beside him, relishing the sunlight that she knew Link could feel warming his skin.

And then-

Ah.

"The Hero of The Wild," she murmured to herself, the tiniest uptick of a smile on her lips.

Fi took back what she thought.

It was no longer endearing.

Link was a feral hero and Fi wishes she were back in her body, sleeping.

Not really, but if he wouldn't stop eating rocks and raw eggs there was a 94% chance she would scream.

She suspected the Shrine of Resurrection - as she had learned it was called - had reinforced his stomach because there was no way he was just. Doing this.

At least the raw fish she could understand. The little Talus, less so.

It was . . .frustrating, to say the least. Fi was glad she could see her master of now - Champion Link, Wild - but the fact that she could not communicate with him was . . .well.

She will admit it made her soul feel light, to see him so thoroughly enjoying himself. The flashes of emotion she could recall from Before led her to believe that Link had been under too much pressure, on the brink of collapse. Dedicated, loyal, courageous - traits adored by Farore. But he was only mortal; a child.

He was curious, and kind, and eager to learn and explore. He climbed trees and came down with twigs in his hair; other times he deftly wove flowers into it.

His seventh evening since he left the shrine, Link runs into his first monsters.

A tribe of Bokoblins is dancing and roasting meat over a fire, squealing and shouting. Link stumbles upon them, following the smell of cooked meat.

There's a pause, and Fi would be holding her breath if she had any.

The Bokoblins wriggle their snouts curiously.

Link points to the meat. "Food?"

The lead one steps forwards and snarls, deep and loud. But Link isn't deterred. He gives back his own throaty growl right in the 'blins face, so loud and ugly it takes a step back.

Then it laughs.

Fi openly gapes, trying to calculate how Link is getting through this unscathed. The other Bokoblins and chattering and then start up their dancing again, and Link joins them, laughing and mimicking their noises.

Fi has helped fell such creatures for millenium. She suddenly realizes she has very little understanding.

The next evening, as they make their way back to the Shrine of Resurrection (Link never fully enters but he does shelter in the mouth of the cave), they come across an old man.

Link shows no signs of recognition, but there's something prickling in the back of Fi's conscious. She catches as his eyes flicker teal at certain angles, and she knows he is a spirit.

That's not what's bothering her.

He's kind enough though, and feeds Link, showing him how to toast apples. Link proceeds to pull out all the plants he has gathered, gesturing eagerly, and the old man chuckles. "Hoo hoo hoo! Quite an array, boy. Okay, I'll show you how to toast those too."

It's simple stuff, not full recipes, but Link quickly gets the idea and starts making his own combos. Fi watches as his scarred hands move, almost on reflex. Muscle memory.

Link cooked? She. . .sort of recalled that.

Link listens to the old man's advice, waving goodbye as he goes to the first shrine.

Hours later, Link has a some new tricks for his shiny toy, and they meet the old man up high.

He reveals himself as King Rhoam, father of Zelda.

As he explains his plight: the worry for his daughter, his kingdom, his need for Link's assistance, she sees as Link's brow furrows, even though he nods slowly. Fi feels something bubbling up from deep within her.

It's not until she feels her lips stretch in a snarl, that she realizes it's anger.

Because, because she remembers-

Shame, and embarrassment creeping up Link's throat, as the king berates him for allowing Zelda to be scratched-

Fear, uncertainty, after each barbed word-

The weight of expectations, loneliness as most of his companions are wary of him-

Empathy, sympathy, for the Princess as her father speaks scathingly-

sadness, as Zelda holds onto animosity towards him

The king's every decision that falls short, that Link knows could be better, but he cannot speak out for to disobey the king is death-

knowing he will die, his last moments to protect a Princess who will surely die not long after.

Hovering behind Link, her "arms" hovering over Link's shoulder, she feels mounting anger, blazing trough her like a Skyward Strike.

". . .so please-"

"You selfish, foolish, cowardly, idiotic excuse for a king," she seethes, her cloak billowing around her. Many, many faults lie before this king, and much of her master's hurt with him at the epicenter. Vitriol she dare not direct towards Hylia, she spits at the after image of a failure of a ruler.

Her rant goes by in a blur, she's not even sure what all she said, but when she runs out of energy, she realizes three things.

One: she has adapted more emotions and expressed them in ways she thought she was incapable of,

Two: the king is gaping at her,

And three: Link is leaning back and looking up at her, blinking wide-eyes.

. . .oh.

They can. . .see her?

The king seems to be facing a crisis of some sort, so it is Link who grumbles inquisitively, "Friend?"

She settles, coming beside him rather than looming over him. "Yes. I am Fi."

He tilts his head, then smiles. "Link!"

Fi softens considerably. "Yes you are."

He looks down and plays with his fingers. "You. . .help? Me?"

She blinks. Speaks gently. "Yes, I'm here to help you. And I won't go away."

". . .okay."

Rhoam seems to regain some semblance of himself, as he stammers out, "A-are you-"

"The Spirit of the Master Sword, yes," she replies curtly. She's no longer angry, but she decidedly does not like him.

Rhoam seems unsure what to do, then coughs, and presents the Paraglider. He wishes them luck, and thanks Link for his help, vanishing quickly.

She snorts, and Link gives her a half-smile.

At sunset, they stand at the edge of the Plateau.

They hadn't spoken much - Link, stilted and awkward, Fi, unsure what to say - but she reassured him that she would be with him every step of the way

Not that he didn't have to do this, although she wishes she could take this burden from him.

But he gazes at her with childlike trust, so different from the lost soldier-child he had been a century ago, resigned to destiny.

He is still learning, yes, but there is a . . .peace, she supposes, in what he has to face.

"Meet you at the bottom?" Link finally says, head tilted in question.

Fi smiles. "Always."