The castle had gone silent. A few hours ago, Valdr had heard the sounds of fighting echoing somewhere throughout the dungeons, the shouts of soldiers, the clash of steel, but now nothing but silence remained. A few of the other prisoners had shouted for a while for help, or for some notion of what was happening, but if there was anyone left to hear them they did not respond. Valdr had not bothered to call for help; he had been in this prison for months now, long enough to know that Hyrule's castle guards cared more about warm food and cold ale in their bellies than they did about the men under their watch, and if something had drawn them away from the prisons for any length of time, it was unlikely that anyone would come down here to check on them for some time. Instead of shouting, he had stood from his mound of straw and made his way to the back corner of his cell, feeling at the fissures between the bricks that made up his cell wall.
Valdr was not a native to Hyrule, an outlander from far to the north who had come to the valley in flight from the tumultuous wars and barbarous gods of his homeland. He had crossed an ocean and a harsh desert before braving the treacherous peaks of the mountains that hemmed in the lush little kingdom and discovering it.
It was in Hyrule Castle Town, while seeking out work that Valdr had gotten himself into trouble. Unfamiliar with the city, he had wandered into one of the seedier alleys and found himself on the receiving end of an attempted mugging. By the time the confrontation had ended, someone had summoned the guards, and Valdr was arrested for the murder of one of his attackers. At the time he had been advised that he would stand trial before the Princess Zelda within a month, but it seemed to have been much longer than that and here he remained.
Now the dungeons were silent, an unnatural pall had fallen upon them, and those prisoners whom had whooped and hollered for what seemed like forever were either as quiet as the grave, or softly whimpering in the gloom. Valdr had felt it too, a sudden shadow that had fallen over them, the torches and lamps on the walls had darkened, and things with far too many limbs seemed to skitter in the darkness around them. Some men had screamed at first, but now quiet sobs were the only sound that could be heard besides the slow dripping of water somewhere else within the dungeons.
Something had come over this place, Valdr could tell, something unnatural. The shadows seemed not to deepen, but rather to spread, as if all light was swallowed up in their inky blackness, leaving what life remained in him and his fellow prisoners to erode. When the feeling had settled on them, Valdr had felt his whole body tingle, as if a limb had fallen asleep, only all over, and as the hours passed on by it felt as though he was both heavier than stone and lighter than air. Movement was difficult, his limbs felt clumsy and without coordination, yet he seemed to float when he tried to walk, like a ghost.
"Am I dead?" he wondered aloud, and recoiled a little at the sound of his own voice, hoarse from disuse. No then, he certainly was still alive. He could still speak, could still feel himself there. When he was still and quiet his heart kept beating in his chest as it always did, and the pulse could be felt in his neck and his wrists.
"Out," he muttered to himself out of habit, a habit he had picked up in the long solitary journey that had led him here, "We need to get out."
"What's the plan?" he asked the air, and spoke again before anything could answer. "The loose brick. With the guards gone no one can stop us breaking the lock. We can escape this place and head for the border."
"And go where?"
"Doesn't matter."
"Can we survive another trip through the desert? We'll need food, supplies, proper clothes."
"We'll think of something, we always do," he finished the thought and finally discovered what he was looking for against the back wall of the cell. It was a single stone loosened from the wall over the past several weeks, the mortar chipped away at with fingernails and teeth until he could plush it out from the wall with ease. A part of him had considered trying to attack one of the guards with it through the bars and swipe the keys from him, but that plan had been deemed to risky, and besides which he had made the decision that he would prefer not to kill anyone else if he didn't have to. Murder was a sentence reserved for those who earned it, and for all their unjust acts, the soldiers of Hyrule had done nothing to warrant a death sentence, not yet.
Drawing the brick out, Valdr tested the weight and heft of it. The door to his cell was held shut with a padlock held against the door by a sturdy iron bar. With enough force the bar could be bent and break apart from the frame of the door, rendering the lock useless. He took one last look both ways to see if anyone else was coming, and then brought the brick down hard on the bar, causing a resounding clang to echo throughout the prison in a sudden cacophony. Someone screamed close by, but Valdr ignored them and did it again, smashing the bar harder this time, with all his strength. The bar had not budged, at least not in a way that he could tell, and a thrill of fear leapt in his stomach at the thought that he might not be able to get out this way after all.
Valdr pushed the terror from his mind, choosing instead to focus his eyes and entire being on this one task of breaking that bar by any means necessary. Over and over the sound of stone on iron bellowed throughout the corridor, eliciting frightened mewling or blubbering from his fellows, but Valdr was surprised to hear no one else attempting the same thing he was. There were some men here in this prison who had been held here even longer than he had, and surely they must have had some plan of escape from this place? But still aside from the occasional murmur of fear there was no sound that he could hear as the darkness seemed to grow denser all around him. The air seemed to thicken, and his arm was starting to ache from lifting and bashing with the brick over and over.
The bar had not broken, but it was bending. Each blow weakened the bar a little more, forcing the way towards freedom from both this cell and from the Kingdom of Hyrule at all. For all the effort it had taken to reach this place, Valdr had found it hardly "blessed" at all, and was eager to continue his wanderings in search of someplace more hospitable. There was a feeling like someone watching him that gave him pause before finally there was a snap, and the bar broke away from the rest of the door, falling to the flags with a triumphant clunk.
Valdr crept from the cell carefully, feeling the cool flags beneath his bare feet and wishing he knew where the guards had taken his belongings when he had first been arrested. What little provisions, money and weapons he carried would be wherever the rest of his clothes had been taken, and Valdr was loathe to embark on another aimless journey without a way to defend himself.
As he walked cautiously around a corner, expecting to see torchlight or a guard or some sort of sign that anyone had heard his noisy escape, the thought came to him that even the whimperings of his fellow inmates had grown so quiet that he couldn't hear them anymore, only the slow, incessant dripping noise. Fear of giving himself away made him hold his tongue, but Valdr at least wanted to peek into one of the other cells to see what the matter was. Ordinarily this prison was a cacophony of jeering, shouting and cursing at all hours of the day and night, but now it was silent as the grave.
Peering through the bars into another cell, Valdr could see the man inside, a huge man with arms that looked like they could bend iron. They had crossed paths in the prison before, and Valdr recalled that the guards had called him "Tiny" as a joke. Tiny had never much cared for the joke himself, and often were the times that he had attempted loud and violent escapes along with several of the men who were loyal to him. Tiny was not moving now, save to tremble violently and murmur something like a prayer of chant under his breath.
"'Ey!" Valdr hissed at him, still attempting to be quiet even though it was clear that nobody was going to be coming to stop him. Tiny's head leapt up at the sound, and for a moment Valdr thought that he might have gotten the fellow's attention. Instead of a greeting, Tiny seemed to try and curl himself even deeper into the corner of his cell, eyes squeezed shut and repeating his mantra. Valdr could catch no specific phrases, but did hear what sounded like the words "king", "deliver us", and "goddesses". If it was a prayer to Hyrule's old gods, it struck Valdr as an odd one indeed, more like some sort of plea for mercy or vow of fealty than the sort of prayers he was used to from his homeland.
It was clear that Tiny was preoccupied and would be no help even if Valdr could galvanize him into action, so for now he moved on alone, searching for an armory or some sort of room full of contraband that he could use to defend himself. Valdr wasn't stupid; this darkness was strange and otherworldy, and someone or something had killed the castle's guards. If it had killed them, it very well might be able to kill him, and Valdr didn't want to be armed with nothing but his fists if it came to try.
As he crept along, Valdr was unsettled further by the noticeable lack of bodies. From the sounds he had heard, the dungeon's guards had been fighting against someone or something, and faring badly if his ears had not deceived him. But there was no blood, not that he could see anyways within the ghostly half-light, and no corpses either. Either the killers had taken the bodies away…
"Or they got back up themselves," Valdr wondered, recalling the old wives' tales and stories swapped by prisoners here of the dead who walked in Hyrule, and the restless flesh that refused to lie down with the rest of their kin. More than ever he wished he had a weapon.
"Well look at you," someone spoke just behind his head, a voice that almost sounded like a young girl, and Valdr felt gooseflesh ripple along his back. He spun, but could see no one there, nor hear any footsteps of somebody attempting to hide. Was he hearing things?
"A light dweller actually still on his feet. Good for you," the voice giggled, this time it was off to his left, but no matter how deeply he peered into the dark he still saw nothing but harsh gray stone in the desaturated torch light.
"Show yourself," he said to the air, uncertain if whomever was speaking was even there, or if they could hear him.
Now the voice laughed in earnest, and Valdr could tell that it was most definitely a girl speaking, cheerful but in such a way that implied the deepest disgust.
"Oh I forgot, you light dwellers can't hold your form under the veil of Twilight. You poor thing, you probably think I'm a ghost, don't you?"
Valdr had thought that, but he didn't admit it. For now he said nothing, but stepped to the side and turned so his back was to the wall. If nothing else, he could try to make it so she couldn't get behind him again, whoever or whatever she may be. The idea that she was some sort of dark spirit didn't seem entirely out of the question, and while he had no illusions of banishing a spirit with naught but his hands and wits, experience dictated that he do what could be done to mitigate his disadvantages.
"I have to say I'm impressed, when I heard that horrible clamor I assumed one of you was busy bashing his skull in out of despair. But here you are, out of your cell and still on your feet, maybe you light dwellers aren't entirely useless after all," the voice was now just beside his ear, and Valdr raised a hand to swat at it, just to see if there was something of substance there. His fingers brushed against what felt like stone, before the voice admonished him, and something with a grip like iron seized his wrist, though still his eyes showed him nothing there.
"Now that was rude, whelp," the voice had dropped its playful tone, and while she still sounded young, barely more than a child, the tone was imperious and cold. "You cannot see me, you will not touch me, your disgusting hands do not deserve the privilege, understand?"
Valdr felt the grip tighten, and he nodded, his jaw clenched so hard he thought he might shatter his teeth, though he did his best to show no outward sign of pain. Evidently he failed, for the thing released his wrist, giggling again, and now Valdr was beginning to lose his patience.
"What is your business with me," he asked quietly.
"Let's say I'm looking to replace a previous servant," the voice sounded as though it was circling him now, despite the solid wall to his back. One moment it was coming from right in front of him, the next it seemed to echo out from the stones itself. "My last steward, regrettably, has left my good graces, and so long as I'm trapped in this wretched world of light, I'll be needing a substitute, albeit on a temporary basis."
"I've no interest in servitude," Valdr replied.
"No?" the voice went on before he could say anything else, "Well then let me put it another way: you will obey my commands and assist me in my… lets call it an endeavor. Most light dwellers I've met were either too weak-minded or too dead to be of use to me. The fact you still have your wits, however dull they might be, makes you the most qualified person I've met so far in this over-glorified privy of a castle."
"And if I should refuse?" Valdr asked.
"Then I leave you here to wander around in the dark and eventually be torn into bloody confetti by a shadow beast. Just because you're the best I've found so far doesn't mean you're the only one who can help me, just that you're the most convenient. But agree to be my servant and do everything I say, and I'll help you make your way out of here. What we do after that… well we'll cross that bridge when we come to it, hmm? So what do you say?"
Valdr considered his options. They were not many. Reluctantly, he curled his hand into a fist and placed it over his heart.
"If you will help me to escape this place, then I am at your disposal."
"Oooh, fancy!" the voice mocked, "We'll make a decent steward of you yet! Now then, what to call you?"
"I am called…" Valdr began, but the voice cut him off.
"For now you'll be 'Oaf'," she decided with an air of finality. "If you last longer than a few weeks I'll bother learning your real name."
Valdr bristled at that, but didn't bother lashing out. Whatever this thing was she was dangerous, that grasp on his wrist had shown him that much. Better to do as he was told and reap the benefits of servitude for the time being, no matter how much it rankled.
"Now then," the voice giggled some more, "First thing to do is to fix up your form. You humans can't hold yourselves together well in the Twilight, but I can help you with that. Hold still."
Valdr felt pressure build in the air around him, his ears popped, and something weighty dropped around his neck. He felt whatever it was tighten suddenly around his throat, constricting so tight he couldn't breathe for an instant, before adjusting to drape across his collarbones.
Without warning the world seemed to sharpen and come back into focus. The pervasive shadows remained, the colors of the world still muted and without saturation, but now he could actually see what was around him. His body had lost that feeling of weightless ness, and now when he moved his limbs they didn't feel so sluggish and unresponsive. The feeling was not without comfort. He put his fingers to his chest, feeling at the thing that had been placed around his neck. It was an amulet, at least he thought so at first. No… it was a collar, fastened around his throat and carved out of what felt like stone. Only stone didn't have this kind of flex, stone wasn't warm like this was, and perhaps he was mistaken, but it almost felt as though a pulse ran through the choker as he placed his fingers to it.
"You look kind of surprised, ee hee hee!" the voice chuckled, and Valdr lifted his eyes to look at her for the first time. Now he could see her clearly, and she was no ghost after all.
A large helmet or mask of the same stuff his collar was carved from adorned a head that seemed too large for the dwarfish body it sat upon. One single orange eye looked out mischievously from the mask, the other was covered. Two prongs arced up from the crown of her head and her whole little body was splayed with black and silver skin that seemed to glow ever so slightly in the dim light. Green runes were tattooed along her forearms and legs, and her fingers ended in sharp little claws. From behind the back of her head Valdr could see a short tail of luminous orange hair that moved as if it possessed a will of its own.
"What are you?" he asked guardedly, wondering what it was he had just sworn his service to.
The imp bared a single pointed fang in an irritated sneer, "Not fond of it? Neither am I. I'm cursed, genius, I didn't always look like this."
"Hm," Valdr grunted, deciding that further questions could wait. His new companion seemed to agree, because she floated over to his shoulder and settled there.
"Well?" she gestured ahead of them, "I've given you the power to see and move properly within the Twilight, now let's get out of here so you can actually do me some good. I don't enjoy just wasting magic on random animals I find in dungeons."
Valdr frowned, taking a moment to wonder if leaving his homeland had been a mistake, before setting off down the corridor once more, searching still for something to defend himself or for an exit. And all the while that the unlikely pair went along, both could hear the skittering of many legs in the walls around them.