A Heavenly Burden
A Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword novelization by Ebblenubble.
Y'know, now that I'm actually playing this game, why not write about it? Read the book, think about the lore, and enjoy the show!
Act I, Hands of a Great Destiny
Prologue, Blood on the Horizon
Desperate cries. People shouting out her name. Blades clashing. Final words being uttered.
Monstrous yells. Taunting words of demons. People being gutted. The demise of the world at hand.
The sky, once beautiful and blue, was bright red and filled with plumes of smoke. Birds that once brought people from place to place were replaced by flying demons, ruthlessly dragging bags full of corpses through the air and cackling maniacally. Pristine structures, much like the one she stood in, lined with gold were now coated in countless layers of blood and grime. Every time a sound went quiet, every time a life was snuffed out and overshadowed, she shook as the reality of fighting the one thing she hadn't seen in decades grew ever closer.
Not to mention the stakes this time around.
Here she stood — the last line of defense — bloody and battered, alone and almost hopeless. She was forced to retreat back into her temple, listening to the utter agony just outside of her doors. Every last noise tortured her to her very core, but she knew that her dying out there meant that all of those deaths would be in vain. As each sound was forcefully quieted or replaced by the cackles of evil monsters, the grip around her sword grew tighter until it was utterly white-knuckled. Only when the last sound outside, the one of her beloved bodyguard valiantly fighting, was quieted did she prepare for the last fight of her life.
No sun would rise until she did what had to be done.
BAM!
The doors rattled but held firm.
BAM!
Little nails and bits of the hinges began falling loose.
BAM!
A massive dent appeared right in the middle of the door, showing a mere crack of the outside world.
Compared to the pristine, white and gold room she stood in, the blood red of the moon and the endless fires outside looked like hell itself.
In the end, she knew that was exactly what it had become.
CRAASH!
"GYAH!" her bodyguard yelled, thrown straight through the door by the monster leading the army of demons, bursting it off of its hinges and revealing the full extent of the outside. Immediately, she went to his side, gently holding his arm, so badly broken it could easily be torn off. His armor, once stronger than the metal used to make her sword, had been cracked and shattered beyond repair, turning it into a shadow of what it used to be. Gashes littered his body and not one was bloodless, not to mention the bruises and bones jutting out from his skin. What was wounded and shredded the most, though, was his sacred cloth: It had been torn to shreds, barely holding onto his waist by mere strings. "I-I'm… so… sorry… Y-Your Highness…" he groaned, falling limp in her arms.
"Just as weak as your ancestor," a deep, almost growling voice remarked as the figure it belonged to spat right in his eye. It sparked a burning fire of rage in her heart as she stood to face the figure, staring it dead in the eyes. Scales of ash were scattered across every inch of his arms and back, built like stone and colored just the same way. Mere scratches covered his chest's surface, already healing at an incomprehensible rate. Behind him was his cape, made from pure agony manifested in its most disgusting form. His hair, more like a mane, was just like a flame, burning everything it touched.
In the center of his forehead was the one crack from his past that survived — her only hope of killing him. "I believe I am right when I assume you are even weaker, yes? You are the damsel, are you not?"
"Don't you damsel me," she countered, gripping her sword with her other hand and preparing for war. "I saw what your first vessel did, Demon King. Not one trick you hold can surprise me. Not. Any. More." The demons and monsters behind him cackled with their snorts and roars, even spitting some unintelligible curses at her. As for the Demon King himself, he hardly reacted — very unlike the way he used to be. "I heard you on the battlefield. You want someone who can offer you some kind of challenge. Well…" —she spaced out her feet and furrowed her brow, tensing up— "you found her."
CLANG!
Just the sound of the Demon King slamming his blade onto the floor, echoing across every wall and hitting her again, nearly deafened her. Despite it, she held firm, refusing to even show a flicker of weakness. Maybe it was out of fear, maybe it was out of strength — in her current state, there was no difference. "If I may," he calmly said, no longer growling his words, "I respect you for putting up a fight. Had you surrendered—"
"I would never consider it. Not in a million years."
He chuckled, marching toward her, turning the room blood red behind him with his Malice. "Good. But this…" —his tone reverted back into an intimidating growl, almost making her quiver— "THIS is not a war I will lose." He raised his blade slowly into the air, high above its head, and roared like some unholy beast.
CLASH!
She instantly buckled beneath his strength, taking a knee as he slammed his blade down onto her with an utterly unbeatable amount of force. "FIGHT DAMN YOU!" As soon as he raised his blade for another strike, she spun away from it, slashing at his chest before swinging for his head — missing by inches. Losing stamina, she weakly swung again, getting her blade caught between his fingers. Without hesitation, he threw her and her blade into a wall, cracking it and sending shards of glass come crashing down from the skylights above, cutting her skin. It all shattered or burned to ashes against the Demon King's body. "Stand. NOW!"
No matter how much she tried, her limp was painfully obvious to every monster in her doorway, earning mocking laughs from her opponent. Somehow, despite her attempts to refuse the laugh and keep fighting, it got into her head. Adrenaline and underlying rage had clouded her mind. "What? Having… pity?" she sarcastically asked, smiling with a shade of madness. "R-really? You're… just a joke… I'd laugh at you…. No. I will be laughing over your dead body!"
Clap. Clap. Clap.
"Your spirit reminds me of your father. So determined, so persistent… but so prideful," he hissed, enraging her further as he approached. "I never asked him to bend the knee. All I asked was that he mark a line between my kingdom and his own. And when he refused, I showed him—"
"YOU SHUT UP!" She charged him, imbued with fury, and began swinging wildly, managing to scratch him once or twice before he caught the blade.
This time, he leaned in, staring her down with menace and evil glee in his eyes. "I cared about her, you know. But not even she would stand in the way of—"
Pow.
Her pathetic little punch cut his words off — but not with pain.
…
…
"And neither…" —he began crushing her blade as a deranged smile crossed his face— "will… YOU!"
FWOOOM!
"AGH!" he roared, backing up in pain and holding his burning hand. She looked at her sword, utterly undamaged, and saw it filled with a holy glow… summoned straight from the goddesses of old and her determination. If there was one weakness she knew the Demon King had, it was that light. It was the hope of the world — and her own hope. Perhaps it could have come sooner, even though she had no conscious way of manipulating it, but it was better to have it now than never. Even if it only gave her the smallest chance in the universe, it was just enough to win this fight. Exactly like the last fight of her father's life: A glimmer of hope was all that she needed.
"You… hehe… you haven't changed, Demon King," she mocked, standing straight and limping to the center of the room. At the very back of it, behind her throne and locked behind a wall, was the very thing she had to protect — no matter the cost.
"And you have learned. I almost feel impressed. Now," —his hand healed and he slammed his blade onto the floor again, sending tiny bits of debris flying— "use it to fight me."
Fwoom!
"Gladly."
She ran toward him and swung toward his leg, not bothering to check if it landed before aiming for his chest. Unfazed by both strikes, he lifted his free hand up and smacked her across the room, sending her careening into a table. By the time she could think straight, he already grabbed her head and threw her back into the ground, raising his foot to crush her. Just before it did, she jammed her blade right into the sole of his foot, slashing outward to trip him and jump on top of him — giving her a chance to relentlessly attack. For every deflected shot, two landed in its place, finally making some scars on his chest — but negligible ones at that.
While she got wrapped up in her aimless strikes, he slashed up at her, cutting her stomach badly. In the blink of an eye, he had kicked her off and slammed her into another wall, choking her out with a single hand. The second she stabbed it to escape, he tore the blade from his wrist with a single finger before dragging her face through the solid marble floor. "What kind of goddess are you?!" he roared, lifting her into the air and tossing her back toward her sword. Now, she lay in front of her throne, weak and beaten to her breaking point. Not one bit of her was left unharmed. "You retreated, you know," he informed her, in a tone verging on mocking and falsely gentle. "Everyone out there is dead because of your cowardice." He lifted his sword and pointed it toward her as she barely ripped hers from the wall. "Redeem your cowardice with a warrior's death."
…
…
"Well? REDEEM YOURSELF!" he demanded.
CLAANG!
…
…
"FUCKING FIGHT ME YOU COWARD!"
CLAANG!
The kind of rage he felt just looking at her as she refused to move gave her an idea.
"Ha, ha, ha… haha haha haha…." She smiled weakly, looking him in the eyes and holding the hilt of her sword like a cane. "No. I… won't." The utter shock on his face was almost amusing in some sick way, amplified tenfold when she took a knee and bowed her head. Just like her mother always told her: work smarter, not harder. It was one of many pieces of advice she lived by… ever since she last saw the Demon King as a young girl. "I accept your rule, Demon King."
"NO!" he choked her once again, lifting her higher into the air, blinded by the bubbling rage in his blood. It was another part of her plan. "Fight. Me. For. That. Relic. NOW!"
"I… don't want to. Just… ow… take it," she lied, grinning and lifting her sword ever so slightly, barely able to keep it out of his sight. She wasn't even looking him in the eye — she was looking at the one true weakness that remained of him. "Please… I've fought my fight. Take it."
"I. Will. KILL you for it. So, just, FI—"
FWOOOOOOM!
He went stiff.
The crack in his forehead was no longer empty.
Now it was filled with the light of her sword.
She won… but was only inches from death's door.
"Fi. That's… quite the name. I'll take it."
"I… will… return."
"And I, too."
Wooosh!
She fell to the ground, exhausted and broken... but alive... for now.
All that remained of the Demon King were ashes as the rest was sucked into her blade. Every monster that once lured and slaughtered innocents outside had collapsed onto the ground. Only one last demon stood in her doorway. The lean, shadowed figure stared in disbelief at the ashes, dropping its blade and choking on its words. When their gazes met, she lifted her sword and flicked it upward. "Go." In a flash of black and white diamonds, the figure vanished into thin air. "Thank the goddesses."
The adrenaline that once numbed her pain faded, causing a barrage of stings, aches, and burns to flood her wounds and bones. By some miracle, she still was able to stand after the wave passed — but barely. Her blade was the only thing keeping her upright, its glow fading away. "Y-your highness…" her bodyguard quietly said, directing her attention back to him as he tried getting back to his feet. "Are you… gyah…" —blood seeped from his wounds at a concerningly increased rate— "okay?"
She mustered up all of her available strength to hug him, feeling her eyes well up as her pain worsened. "N-no… I'm not."
Death was just as cruel as she remembered.
But its slow approach gave her one last chance to end the world's evil once and for all. If not in her lifetime, then in someone else's.
"Get the relic," she shakily uttered, backing up as her legs began to buckle. "There is… something I… must do." Looking at her blood, coloring her gown crimson with flickers of teal blood within, inspired her to swiftly limp toward her throne despite the pain it caused. All it would change, in the end, was how she felt in the moment. Her bodyguard already had the relic prepared when she got to her throne, staring intently at it. "If you would—"
"Lady Hylia!" a woman called out from the doorway of the temple, dressed in dark shades and only slightly wounded. "Are you…." She went quiet, examining the wrecked room with horror. Only then did they all realize the blood, destruction, and pain — all of it — came from her.
"Link," —she took the relic out of his hands and into hers, now shaking and bloody— "go help Impa gather the survivors. Leave… and…. Goodbye."
He tried to protest against her words but never said anything, reluctantly walking away. She could tell his heart was completely shattered just by looking at how he walked. Every step he took echoed across the whole room, blasting in her ears as her vision began to fade. She wanted to call out, to try and take back what she had said just to see his face one more time… but never did. Hell would return and, when it did, it would have a vengeance. No amount of godhood would save her — or her people.
"In the name of Din… Nayru… Farore… and…" —she inhaled deeply, resisting the pain as much as she could before muttering the last words— "I beg of you… let me have the…."
…
…
Dead silence. No more pain.
A light was in front of her.
…But she wasn't dead.
She now moved at a speed far more immeasurable than anything any Hylian knew, she now had the might to cause earthquakes with the flick of her wrist, she could even ascend off of the floor and leave into the void above… but she knew none of it would last for more than a second when she returned the relic to its place — or even a vessel. To her, though, it felt like she had an eternity to write out her last instructions — the ones that would save the world.
And after that…
The courage of her hero…
The wisdom of herself…
The pure yet corrupted power…
And the heart that held it all together…
They would carry out the mission she swore she would finish.
They would bear her burden.
A/N - Hey, hey, I'm back! Well, you knew that.
First and foremost, I'll briefly cover how my first story is doing — you know, the one that's been ice cold for months. Skip over this first paragraph if this is the first story of mine you're reading. No, it's not abandoned; yes, I plan to return to it and finish it; no, that will not be soon. I'd give a thousand reasons, but nobody has time for that. Frankly, though, I feel like this story will do pretty swell when I get it up and running (a.k.a., act two.)
Now, back to this story. It won't be updated as frequently as I'd like to update it since I haven't planned all too much just yet. And my old viewers sure know how that turns out. Still, I'll do my best to keep this story away from the double digits of pages. From what I know, when it's there, it's gone (excluding all other languages except English. Otherwise, it will get there naturally).
I wonder how this story will turn out, honestly. Maybe I'll like it. Maybe I'll hate it.
For now, though, I'll make it.
Have a lovely day and keep reading if you like this!
-Ebblenubble.