A/N: Life's been throwing hurdles. I apologize.

Thank you Meta-Akira, thenumbertwentyseven, Alter Ego Bob, Moon ninja Luna, Branded Lunacy, Mokki Takashi, MayBeADragon12, MoonlightDovakiin (Thank you!), YingWhiteyWolf (And I can't wait to show you. I'll get myself in gear.), Bluebadger (I hope you love the upcoming characters too.), Pineapple (I'm making up most of the settings not shown in-game.), Voidlash (Now if I can just remember to keep with the advice.), Anon (I completely overlooked that. I'm sorry.), BOTW completer (Thanks!), charlie mara (I read them every now and then. I'm glad you like this so far.), Ambiguous Cake (Yep! Pacing's slow, but they are. Let's see how they fare.), MinMinette (I'm glad you like it. I'll try to update more frequently.), Bladedrake101 (XD That's exactly what went through my head when I wrote it.), Update (Ha! XD), and Just A Fan (I'm happy you like it! Let's see where they go.) for your reviews last chapter. They kept me going.

Chapter 24

She's female, that much is apparent from her naked form. Taller than me by a foot, small hips and breasts, bare feet light on the moss carpet which she stands, not causing so much as an indent. Her iridescent skin glistens in the glow of the bioluminescent mushrooms. Spore clouds swirl in a trancing light along her slender frame. No hair lends her coverage but for what's on her head; not on her arms, or legs, and none at all at the juncture between her thighs. Her body is smooth without a trace of the downy fuzz normal for humans.

I don't move, fearful motion of any kind will trigger something from this unknown woman. But do I even call her a woman? She looks human enough, with a small nose and bowed lips. But the unnatural radiance of her skin and the frond-like antennae sprouting from her forehead, pale yellow and smoothed back with her lush hair, gives her away as something else entirely.

Not to mention those huge milky eyes. She hasn't blinked yet at all.

But then neither have I.

I can't help myself: I take a step backwards, and my fear confirms itself.

The spell of stillness, which not even the birds dared to sever, is broken.

"I have not seen a human on the surface in centuries." She speaks with the voice of water, soft, soothing. "How odd to find one here and now."

I don't believe her inconspicuous manner for a second. The air tingles with the eerie coolness of her voice. I take another step back, the moss squelching quietly under the weight of my feet.

"You are afraid," she states with no real implication in her tone. She stands in tranquil stasis, the only movement being the words she forms with her mouth and the languid orbit of the spore trails.

My muscles tense, ready either to fight or take flight.

"You are very wise," she continues, a slight smile curling the corners of her lips. Her glassy gaze travels leisurely down the length of my body. Just as slowly she returns to my face. "But, I am afraid it will not save you."

I pull my dagger and jump back, bracing for violence.

The female whatever-she-is does not follow. Instead her smile grows, pinked lips drawing away to reveal a horror show of small pointed teeth, as fine and clear as splinters of shattered glass.

I blink and she's gone.

A strange sensation, similar to the feeling Ghirahim instilled when he partook of my aura, ebbs at my back like tugged strings. I spin around, lash out with the dagger. "Back off!"

With fluidity she leans just out of the blade's reach. She tilts her head in confusion. "What is this? Such a strange aura you have…"

Her voice never wavers from its flat inflection.

I stagger backwards, raise the dagger and bare my teeth. With dreadful awareness I feel a change in the air surrounding us. Something's coming. Or someone. I just hope it's not more of this…thing. Please let it not be more of this freak.

After several tense moments her unblinking gaze hones in on my throat, regards the jeweled collar. "You are owned…"

"Indeed she is."

The lumination from the glowing fungi dims by way of a force not seen, but most definitely felt. Ghirahim strolls through the trees into the small clearing, his very presence pushing the mist of spores away and darkening the forest. He stands out against the earthy hues surrounding him in a stark contrast of red velvet and white silk.

I clench my dagger, take a deep breath. Another fight. Yet despite the upcoming confrontation I can't stop the relief that floods through my system at the sight of him. His company signifies strength and safety, a net that would surely catch me if I fell into danger. A niggling sensation at the back of my conscience warns me I shouldn't feel like that, shouldn't allow myself to feel as such, but the situation at hand doesn't let me dwell on it.

The milky-eyed female turns her head to the threat, blinks once, slowly, and then…

Smiles pleasantly.

"Lord Ghirahim." She clasps her hands, bows her head.

Said demon lord laughs loudly, spreads his arms in a gesture of welcome. "Indua! How long has it been?"

"Fifty-two years, my lord." Her lashes lower. "I have missed you."

My widened, confused stare darts between the two.

"Ah, has so much time passed? My, my, how it flies. I have been so terribly busy." He smiles with apologetic innocence, a hand coming to rest over his heart.

Apprehension stays with me. "What…"

Ghirahim silences me with a motion of his hand. "But enough dwelling on lost time. Tell me, Indua, how have you been faring?"

"Well enough, my lord. Though I suspect you did not come all the way out here to ask me such."

"As vigilant as ever." He grins wickedly, crosses his arms. "No, I have come searching for a Gate of Time."

"Hmm, I have not sensed nor seen a Timestone in…" she drifts off and frowns.

His smooth chuckle ripples through the clearing. "I'm not the only one losing track, hm?"

I gawk in disbelief, but that melts into outrage soon enough. As Ghirahim and this—this—Indua! converse like old friends, I'm left to stand here like a silenced idiot. How do they know each other? What was that sultry look she gave him? I missed you? I expected a battle and instead I'm sidelined on a clash of companionship. What is this? And how can she stand there stark naked without batting an eye? Questions mount and my frustrations grow. The tension building in my body since Indua appeared has done nothing but tighten—to stretched and almost unbearable lengths. Soon I'm edging out of there, wanting nothing more to do with it all.

It is Indua who interrupts my escape. "Your human is quite a strange one. Does she leave without her master's permission?"

I stop in my tracks to glare at the nude freak, at her abnormally flawless skin, at her pert rosy—

Ugh! My eyes flick away in disgust.

"She's an adventurous one," Ghirahim answers with hints of laughter in his voice, "and so excitable. You should have seen her when we first came out here—you would think she had never seen a blade of grass in her life!"

Indua stares hard at me. "Her aura is like none I have ever tasted…"

The beat of silence is palpable.

Just like that the temperature of the atmosphere plummets, becoming as icy as the top of the mesosphere. Expressions freeze, bodies stiffen. The first signs of aggression rumble beneath the surface.

All joviality drops from Ghirahim faster than a lead ball into a chasm. He speaks lowly, his voice reminding me of the menacing scrape of a blade in the dark. "Tasted her, have you?"

Indua returns her gaze to him and, seeing her error, immediately lowers her head. "Forgive me, my lord. I did not see the collar until it was too late."

Ghirahim narrows his eyes. "How uncharacteristically unobservant of you."

They stare at the other in a prolonged silence, Indua's milky eyes stoically perplexed, Ghirahim's black caverns glinting with dangerous promise. My dagger remains unclipped, held unassuming but ready at my side.

Indua ends the chilly silence. "It is odd for you to act this way over a slave, especially a human one. Are they not no more than food or entertainment?"

My mind sputters and flatlines. What did she just say?

Despite the flash of warning in Ghirahim's face, she continues: "Where did this human come from? It has been ages since one walked the surface."

"Where else would she have come from? Where all humans fled to. The sky! Don't ask how she survived the fall." Ghirahim's words are short and clipped. He uncrosses his arms, but the tic of his fingers shows he's still agitated.

Indua must sense it. Suddenly she folds her arms in an X across her chest, hands clasped over each shoulder, and bows at the waist. Her tenor fills with reverence. "I respect all that you are and all that is yours. I always have. Please accept my sincerest apologies, Lord Ghirahim. I will pay special care not to touch her again, nor anything else that is yours, in the future."

He relaxes marginally. His fingers stop twitching. "See that you don't." His smile holds a perilous edge. "And Indua, you will forget her aura. It is malformed, and not for you or any other to taste."

She bends lower, the long waves of her hair spilling over her shoulders, brushing the ground. "Understood. She will be mentioned to no one."

I listen to the exchange in a fog of bewilderment. From the disturbing mention of people and food to the odd bow to the focus on my aura, it all blitzes through my brain like lightning. And then, with abrupt irritation: Can she not bend over like that? Her white ass is bared for all to see!

As if reading my mind Indua straightens, peers at me from over her shoulder. "Such an odd human. Not like the red-eyed Sheikah or blue-eyed Hylians of long ago. Round ears… A rare breed, indeed. I can see why you have not eaten her or thrown her away."

Baffled alarm at that last statement brings jitters to my legs. Food. Eaten. What the hell is she on about? Does this crazy bitch actually think people are food? The heat of anger creeps up my neck. The dark green hilt of my dagger creaks in my grasp. More of her words penetrate my thick skull. A rare breed? Talking about me like I'm some sort of dog? A pet? A know-nothing pet! Like I'm not even standing here, listening!

The smile spreading Ghirahim's lips jumps at the corner. It is not a kind smile. "Indua, you speak out of turn. You are coming dangerously close to vexing me. A first for you…"

I glance to him in surprise, hopeful for defense, or at least some sort of denial from him.

But he gives nothing more but a malicious smile and a daring glare.

Though she speaks to Ghirahim, Indua's gaze adheres to me. "You have no cause for worry from me, my lord. I will not speak of her."

And suddenly I can't take her unblinking stare anymore. That and the numerous implications of their conversation makes the tension and pressure that's been building along my nerves at last snap. A white light flashes briefly in the clearing, another force pushing the creeping mists of spores back. I don't realize I'm the source until too late, but by then I don't care. "Keep looking at me like that, bitch, and I'll gouge your freaky-ass eyes out!" My voice bounces off the trees in a rolling echo, dagger held up in invitation to disaster.

Indua falls silent, ever staring, but in that gaze skulks a dawning and confused fear—perhaps towards the strange light, here and gone like a camera's flash, but far too bright to be anything earthly.

Ghirahim's teleportation magic rings in the clearing, and in the wink of a moment he is next to me. With an arm coiling around my head he grabs my mouth and smashes my face into the side of his ribs. "You'll have to ignore her," he says, friendliness returning. "We're still working on manners, it seems."

"Humans…were not known for them," Indua agrees, voice wavering with nervous residue.

I rage through his hand.

"Yes, it is a constant struggle. One I will ultimately win." He looks down on me in warning.

"That aura," she begins, eyeing me warily. "If I may ask…"

"You may not ask. Do not overstep your bounds, Indua, and more importantly do not make me question the leniency I'm showing you now due to our past…communions."

I go still in my struggles, mind tricking over that last word.

Ghirahim wraps up business. "We shall be on our way. Places to be, you know how it is."

Indua's antennae perk, the fronds unfolding to life, and it is not until they do that I realize how flat and dejected she looked. "If it pleases you, will you not come gaze into the Telling Pool? Perhaps it will help you find what you seek."

"Not this time." His thumb covertly strokes my cheek. "I have a lead and quite frankly I'm on a tight schedule. If you'll excuse me."

Indua inclines her head, antennae flattening once more. Insipid light shines from her back, and the lunar green wings of a moth appear in the fade. Their filmy width spans far past her body, wispy tips nearly touching the ground. Two bright yellow dots on each wing imitate ever-gazing eyes. The wings sway gently.

"Indua."

With veneration she meets Ghirahim's hard stare.

"Not a word," he cautions once more.

The otherworldly creature covers her mouth with both hands. When she lowers them like a slowly falling curtain the mouth is gone, leaving only bare skin where lips and teeth should be.

My alarmed expletive is muffled by Ghirahim's palm.

Another sway of wings signals Indua's departure. The flap scatters spores of her own and forming together they become an orb of light that engulfs her. When the orb disperses so does she. Stunned, I watch the flickering balls of light until they disappear past the trees lined with the moon-like fungi and into the dense, silent forest.

The birds still don't sing.

Ghirahim and I stand in the stillness of the forest. No birds or breeze or snapping twig dares to break it.

With a click of fingers and a chiming flash of diamond fractals, we follow Indua's example of retreat, reappearing on the outskirts of the taller than life trees. Here, at the edge of the forest, the trees are shorter, their differing heights growing larger the further in they go. The sun blazes from its position of downward descent, and the purple and blue shadows hide from it, are pushed deep into the woods. The rain has reduced to a light drizzle, gives a prickling nip against the sun's warmth on my exposed skin.

Suddenly Ghirahim's palm leaves my mouth to connect with the back of my head. The hit is hard and not like the little hair-tussling taps he's been prone to giving me lately.

I clutch my head, draw a hissing breath through my teeth. "Holy fu—"

He captures my chin and forces me to look into his stony face. "You will never embarrass me like that again."

My eyes flare with fury. I jerk my chin from his grasp. "Embarrass you? Oh"—begins the sarcasm—"I'm so sorry I embarrassed you, Master, after you stood there"—my sarcastic tone delves to sincere viciousness—"and let that—that—that thing humiliate me, talking about me like I'm a dog! Don't roll your eyes at me!"

His wandering eyes snap back onto me. After a moment of passing rage, they soften. He puts a cool hand to my flushed face. "Hush. Don't work yourself up over things you don't understand."

"I understand when I'm being talked down to just fine," I say past gritted teeth. "And what was that she said about food? Entertainment?"

"Shh, it was nonsense. Indua likes to be facetious." His fingers find their way into my hair. He smiles indulgingly. "Humans have never been regarded highly by our kind." His smile turns rueful. "Most were not kept for servitude…"

What he implies strikes my heart with cold dread. The dark creatures from my dreams chasing human figures of light. Snuffing them out. And if not that, then chains and whips, no doubt. And starving and thirsting and bitter cold towers and…!

Wrath shakes me, balls my fists. I'm still holding the dagger.

"My sweet bird…" Ghirahim cups my cheek with his free hand. His eyes dart back to the trees. He switches to English. "We are too close to prying ears… Listen to me. To treat you differently from an ordinary servant before others would only accentuate your presence and bring potential harm to you. We must keep quiet about you."

My glower cools marginally. "I… What?" I revert to my original language. "What are you talking about?"

"Lesser demons like Bokoblins are too stupid to notice, and so blind in their obedience they would not dare to try, but greater demons like myself can and will notice. Don't give me that surprised look—I told you there were others. Many of them have an ambition that is a thread away from overcoming loyalty. You mustn't be known to them, lest they covet your aura…and your knowledge."

Understanding bears down with a sobering weight. My mouth presses a thin line, eyes narrowing.

He hums a grim assent. His fingers start kneading just behind my ear. "You cut it close just now. Indua has been a loyal ally for as long as I've known her, but…" He peers over my head into the forest, eyes narrowing to near slits. "But even she cannot know your significance. To think it almost came to that. I would have hated to kill her."

"Kill her?" I push at his hands and step from him, having had enough of him petting me like I'm a horse that needs calming. "Is that how you treat long-standing allies? I feel sorry for her." And a part of me really does—going in complete opposition to the side that's still fuming over how she treated me. Yet…

Yet there is another reason. If he is so quick to kill an old friend over a slave… A sinking sense of despair grips into my heart. Should I stand against Demise he will be just as quick to kill me. And I'll have to stand. There's no way I could sit and let humans be slaughtered or put in chains. Just…no way.

The wind blows through the trees, the damp of the deep woods flowing around us. It feels cold and subconsciously I huddle inward, stepping towards the sun and away from Ghirahim and the forest. The leaves whisper as if in ominous warning of the future.

"Sorry for her? Whatever for? If I had had to kill her it would have been your fault, little idiot. I told you not to wander far, and what did you do?" He matches me stride for stride until he has my chin in his hand again, fingers stroking anew. "Though I suppose I cannot pin it all on you. Her illusions are second to none and anything without magical abilities is susceptible to being ensnared. She feeds on the auras of those unlucky enough to fall into her trap, and with an aura like yours she would have been set for life. It's a good thing I came for you when I did."

I think back to the forest, to the quiet stillness. There was no trill of birds or scratch of squirrel or…anything. Now I have an idea as to why.

I suppress a shiver.

"If anything… Ah…" He laughs almost self-effacingly. "Perhaps I should not have let you wander in the first place. But…" His eyes cloud with an emotion I can't recognize. "You were so happy to see all there is…"

What he's admitting unnerves me. Like my usual cowardly self, I gloss over it and search for the middle ground. "It was…everyone's fault, then?"

Ghirahim laughs low and sweet. "Yes. Yes, darling, let's go with that."

"What is she?" Out of nowhere, anger returns like a cracking whip, and I can't stop myself from thinking of Indua's fluttering lashes or of Ghirahim's comment about 'communions.' Suddenly, absurdly, I want to ask who she is to him and what their past intersections contained. My next words come out rough: "Is she, um…" I trail off—wondering why I'm even wondering. I mean, he's gay, and even if he isn't what business is it of mine?—and chicken out. "She a demon too?"

"A nymph, if you want to be exact. She's more closely related to the fae, actually, than to the demon tribe." He shrugs, a playful smile curling the side of his mouth. "But a creature of mystery and magic all the same."

"It's a wonder why she couldn't magic up some dang clothes," I mutter.

Ghirahim bursts out laughing. "Oh! I forgot how prudish you humans can be! Nakedness does not mean much to fae and demons, darling. Clothes are used more for statements and whims of fancy than for modesty."

I take in the sight of the many cut-outs adorning his outfit. "I see."

He sticks his tongue out at me with all the maliciousness of a teasing child. "Little brat. Come, we've dallied long enough and the sun inches ever closer to the horizon. The Rock of Ages gave me little more than clues to a 'swell of bitter water' and 'homes among the mountains.' Does that mean anything to you? No? Then there's nothing left for us here."

Throughout our journey I can't stop the foreboding climbing up the walls of my heart. I can't stop thinking about Indua, or of what else we might run into down here. It seems the Taliticus, that giant stone golem, isn't going to be the worst of it.

Ghirahim keeps me under his arm and under his cloak. "Stay close to me, Kya, at all times. I'm content to let you see as much as you like, but under no circumstances will you leave my side."

"Yes, Master." I feel like a chick under its mother's wings.

He gets us out of the drizzle of rain and into a wooded area of amber leaves that magnify the sunshine until it is a blare in my eyes. Its golden beauty takes my breath all the same. Warm radiance chases away the chill lingering on my skin, and again Ghirahim uses his velvet red cloak to rub excess water from my exposed flesh, shortly does the same for himself.

I watch him in the golden gleam. "You still haven't told me why you hate water. You take baths, right?"

He smooths his curtain of hair. "Hush about it. A bath is an entirely different matter. It is controlled and purposeful."

"So you hate anything you can't control? Ha, that's typical."

His glare snaps to me sharply, and I think back to a time when he would have rather put a dagger to my lips than let me talk back to him. Now he either just glares or smiles. I never know which I'm going to get. Sometimes both.

Like right now.

"Uh," I start, inching away from him. "What are you planning?"

That slow, devious smile grows. "Mm, nothing. What would I be planning? I was just thinking…" He saunters my way, pausing for dramatic effect. "…of giving you a reason to be wet."

The double-meaning is not lost on me, especially with his voice taking on a low sensual vibe. My heart jumps to my throat.

"I, uh… Ack!" I dodge a sudden clump of dirt aimed at my face. "Hey!"

He picks up another clod from the ground, his smile turned delightedly vicious, and hurls it at me. I roll to the side, feel the scratchy caress of the reddish grass. Dirt from a missed throw sprays me with debris as it lands beside me. Another is thrown and I'm made to quickly dodge again, rolling the way I came. I stagger to my feet in ragged victory. "Ha! You missed me!"

I just get the words out when a clump of dirt nails me right in the forehead.

Ghirahim's laughter bounces off the stout trees and wind-rustling shrubbery. It's the only thing giving trace to his location as I'm too busy clawing bits of earth away from my eyes. With enough cleared away, I risk opening my lids a trifle. Ghirahim flings his hands in a downward motion to rid his gloves of dirty residue.

He's smiling, shaking his head. "There. Now we'll have to give you a bath when we get—"

Dirt explodes on the side of his head, brown staining the white purity of his hair.

Slowly, so very slowly, he turns an icy gaze on me.

There I stand, stuck in a baseball pitcher's stance, arm outstretched, one leg forward, knees bent. As soon as his glower rests fully on me I jump upright, arms held up and out on either side of my body in a 'come at me' pose. "One hit, bro! One hit!"

In spite of my brave words and posture, my feet carry me swiftly backwards as if they alone made the wise decision to retreat.

Specks of dirt fall from his hair and that vicious grin alights on his face again. Laughter bubbles up from his chest, starting quiet but growing louder and louder.

I start running.

Hearing the whisper of his cat-like footfalls behind me, I start screaming.

He drags it out, I know he does, know that he could catch me in the fraction it takes to blink if he wanted to. But he doesn't. I run, squealing, heart thundering with both thrill and fear, and he chases, huffing with suppressed laughter and half-hearted threats that are no doubt supposed to be ferocious, spurning me on.

His arms capture me at the waist and he takes us both to the ground. We roll, grappling for each other, backs meeting starchy grass and golden soaked air intermittently. He pushes my nose into a moist lump of earth—I fling a shower of particles over him in retaliation. My growls and grumbles vibrate the patch of grass beneath my chin; his laughter plays music amongst the amber-kissed branches.

"Now look what you've done." He sighs in feigned exasperation, pulling me into a sitting position beside him. "We're both in need of a bath now." He leans into me, purrs teasingly in my hair, "Maybe we'll save time and take one together."

"Oh, geez!" I shove at him, ignore his trilling giggle. How the heck he manages to sound masculine laughing like that I'll never know.

I'm swiping earthy specks from my hair when I catch something glittering in the distance. My clawing hand stops mid-comb. They look like dust motes, floating, swaying in the languorous air. "Are those…?"

Ghirahim follows my stare. "Fairies. Have you never seen them before?"

My mind scans through my time in this world for evidence I've seen in person and not by way of a screen. "…No, I haven't seen…"

Ghirahim turns his head to me, smiling. "Let's go look then."

We find their homes littering the trees and rocks. Their doors are no more than holes bored into the stone and bark, the likes of which I would expect to be the dens of snakes or weasels if I were merely passing by. I peer into each and every one, wide-eyed as a child at the wonders of this whole new world. The apprehension and sparking rage I felt earlier lies forgotten in the back of my mind, waiting to be unearthed. And it will be. When all is quiet, I'll stop and feel my heart writhe. But for now, now…

I want to see all there is to see. I want to know all there is to know.

And these pitch black tunnels are holding secrets I can only guess at.

"Look at you." Ghirahim huffs a laugh from behind me. "Prophetess, with your divine knowledge, clueless as to how the denizens of the surface live and breathe."

"Y-yeah," I say distractedly. "I guess you could say I'm…" I become enthralled by a little glowing spark and a glimmer of tiny wings. "…uncultured."

His hands slide onto my shoulders, grasp gently. "Then I shall have to culture you."

I tilt my head all the way up to look at him. He's smiling, eyes lidded in that oddly…fond look I can't figure out.

"Come. We have a lot of ground to cover yet, my darling."

I don't know what to make of his tone of voice either, or how his thumbs stroke my skin at the diamond-shaped cut-outs baring my shoulders. Both gentle. Both deep and silky. The gears in my head start to work it through, but I'm once again distracted and pulled into the world in front of me.

"We may be searching for the gate," he says as I totter after him, "but I see no reason to deprive you of a little sight-seeing. Come, I'll be happy to show you our land. But"—he whirls to face me—"remember what I said?"

"Stay close."

"You are so good," he nearly coos, and then he takes my hand and interlocks our fingers, leading me along.

He takes me across woodlands and prairies, through numerous ancient groves and moors. One such area is littered with stones in the shape of stalagmites taller than fifty feet. I pass through the stripes of their shadows like a deer through a forest of stone.

But nothing in the scenery is as interesting as the creatures I find dwelling there.

The other demons…

Ghirahim pulls me back under his cape, mutters words in a dialect I can't understand, and tiny diamond fractals flitter over me.

"Keep quiet," he says, squeezing me close, so close I might meld with his hip. "The spell I've cast makes them unable to see you as long as you are touching me."

We walk in silence around village outskirts.

One such village is built up on the highlands, with homes dug from under the rolling hills, the land itself serving as rooftops. The breeze carries the scent of smoked meat, of the earthen breath coming from their open doorways. I catch a glimpse of scaled humanoids, a tail flashing, and horns sprouting from dark heads. I hear laughter and hisses.

Another village is built in the thick trunks of ancient trees. The people there have wings like bats, cling to the braches that serve as balconies to their towering homes. They smell of bark and leather and midnight breezes.

In a wooded area we find the trails left behind by the small hunting parties of a Bokoblin tribe. I catch a glimpse of them through thorny vines and skinny branches, waddling through the underbrush, their skins painted and their weapons made of bone and wood.

"Is this where they really live?" I ask.

"Yes. Here and there. They're called for service and should they survive they are allowed to return to their clans within the Tribe."

"This tribe?"

"The clans are all over," he says. "The Demon Tribe as a whole is under the rule of my master, and while the various clans govern themselves…mostly…they all answer to their king."

I find it all so fascinating.

Ghirahim takes me to see so much more. We edge along houses hollowed out of stone, peer around corners at a dark-skinned horned race dwelling in intricate caves with sparkling crystals as their light sources, and the smooth rock beneath my feet speaks to paths worn and carved through generations.

When he takes me out on the prairie once more, it is to see a seemingly normal looking village. Round houses of bleached stone and sweet straw thatched roofs sit among inconspicuous clusters of trees, though these have all the colors of fall.

"The sprites love to change the colors," Ghirahim explains. "It brings them some sort of unexplainable joy, I suppose."

And from the corner of my eye I see a spark, and spot a sprite doing just that. The slight figure, her hair styled in an odd swell atop her head, starts off as a normal sized woman, but when she leaps for the branches she morphs into one almost as tiny as a fairy, perching lightly on a leaf, the red hue turning green and then yellow. She dances on the leaf, barely shaking it with her nimble feet.

I start forward, intent on a closer look at the creature. Her skin is a pinkish red. Is that a result of her magic or—?

"Kya," Ghirahim hisses, pulling me back sharply. "What did I say?"

"Oh, right. The spell. Sorry."

"You will be if any of them see you. Indua I can tolerate. No other." He stares down at me, his face holding no pity. "Do you know what I'll have to do? We both know how much bloodshed upsets you."

I shrink back, pressing my body to his, feeling the cool silk of his suit and the unyielding skin and muscle beneath. I think of the power housed within him and look again at the houses and little people. He could wipe out that entire village if he wanted to.

"L-let's keep going," I say. "For the gate, I mean. I've seen enough. Thank you."

His smile is smugly polite, like he's proud to have made his point and to have given me tour I was so desperate for.

The hills burn red with the sun, now connecting with the horizon.

We end up on a cliff, overlooking a glittering sea in an area that Ghirahim says is far south of Faron. He tells me it is aptly named the South Sea, with little enthusiasm.

Alone and out of sight of others, I come out from the shelter of his cape, making my way to a gently sloping decline, hoping to get down to the waters. My mouth opens in an excited inhale, and I taste the salt riding the sea-born breeze.

"No further!" He grabs me by the sleeve and snaps me back. "We'll not go to the sea."

"But—"

"No." He frowns at me firmly. "You'll stay away from the water, Kya, especially the salt water. Those waves will drag you out and down, stripping you of all you vitality until nothing's left."

I crane my neck, looking at him curiously. Where has all this come from? What's his deal with water? I wonder for the hundredth time. I glance back out at the glimmering ocean with longing. I remember evenings spent on the sand and waves with my family in a world far away, back in the days when we spent time together. To be able to have an iota of that experience again…

Ghirahim glowers in the same direction with perforating disdain.

I look at him in utter confusion. Then, my near dormant intuition belatedly comes to the rescue. I don't know why but, suddenly, I get the feeling he was hurt once by those waters of unfathomable length and depth.

"You're not gonna say what happened, are you?" It's not so much a question as it is a knowing statement.

He turns that hard gaze on me.

I stare into those black impenetrable eyes, so much like the dark tunnels I tried to peer into before, but with no hope for a glitter of mythical wing or calming light. I don't expect to see anything. I look anyway.

Then, so small it is almost imperceptible, a glimmer, like a silver fish skirting just beneath the black ice. Whatever it was, my heart clenches painfully for it.

Unthinkingly I throw myself into him, wrap my arms around his waist.

He emits a surprised 'mmph!' and in a reflex drops an arm over me. "What's this about?"

I rest my cheek against his pectoral, snug under the niche of his arm. "I don't know," I mumble, and really—I don't.

He huffs, amused. "Strange little thing…"

"…Are you afraid of drowning?" I prod despite my better judgement.

He scoffs so loud it almost sounds a cough. "Drown? What kind of nonsense—? I can't drown, girl. I…"

I nose the frontal fabric of his cape aside, and as I move to look up at him my cheek slides against the inhumanly smooth muscle of his chest, over where his heart would be.

The thought of the Bokoblin he forced me to slay ebbs from my memory. The pit of aggrieved remembrance grows smaller. Here I am, clinging to him, speaking with him like he is a friend. I told myself I would stay on guard. How can I make and break promises so easily? I ponder with distress. Am I such a fickle creature? Moments with him resembling normalcy shouldn't matter so long as I keep that edge of fear. I'm only in danger when I stop fearing him.

Don't stop fearing… The seed of dread is replanted. The fact I had to replant it at all screams volumes, but, terrifyingly, I ignore the screams.

There's something he's about to tell me.

He's gazing back out at the ocean now, something dark and angry and…haunted in his eyes.

"I…" He continues, his eyes taking on the fog of days gone by. "There was a time I had to claw out of that dark abyss, and I…" He swallows, his face setting like stone. "That dammed goddess separated me from my master, threw me into the sea, and…I don't know how long I fought. I thought I wasn't going to be able to make it back to him." His tone is grim, but his face betrays none of the fear his voice secretly divulges.

I wait in breathless trepidation. I've never heard or seen him like this.

His gaze suddenly clears and snaps down to me, as if he just realized he has an audience and wasn't just recollecting to himself. He yanks on my hair, forcing me to maintain eye contact. "Not a word of this," he hisses. "To anyone. Ever."

"Not ever," I repeat.

"I'll split your tongue in half if you do."

"Master," I say seriously. "I won't. Really. Even if you didn't threaten me, I wouldn't."

He stares me down for long moments. Then, grip relaxing and eyes softening, he says, "We won't find what we're looking for here—and it's getting late besides. Let's go back home…" He bends and presses a kiss to my forehead. "…my sweet."

I look back out at the ocean one more time. Of course it'd have to do with his master, I think sullenly. Of course it'd have to do with being separated from him. Of course.

But then how does it involve me? His slave…

Why can't I go to the waves?

And Ghirahim, as my master…

It clicks. Deep in my mind, it clicks.

It should frighten me, and I tell myself it does. This demon is drawing parallels between his master, himself, and me.

But though I silently profess and affirm my fear, the desire to run to the waves drains away to nothing…because to do so would make him unhappy.

A/N: This chapter was originally over 12,000 words. I cut it in half, not because of the length, but because I was cramming too many events into one. It paces better as two. That said, next chapter is mostly written. Hopefully you'll get it soon.

The 'Rock of Ages' was a reference to Wind Waker.

Since Ghirahim's name is said to have meanings in both Arabic and Sanskrit, I've decided to implement similar names for the other demons/fae. Indua's name is derived from Sanskrit's Indu, meaning 'bright drop' and is another name for the moon. She's designed after the Luna moth.

Thanks so much for your words of support and advice, or just stopping to say how you like it or don't.