New chapter time! I've had this one written for a little while but I wanted to sit on it for a bit to space things out. So here it is now, setting up the "Phantom Hourglass" section of the story even more. I've taken some liberties with the game's plot, but granted, PH is a pretty bare bones Zelda game so its not like there's too much to go off of in the first place. Anyway I'll quit rambling and let you enjoy it for yourself!

Chapter 5: Gray

Ciela doesn't know what compels her to fly up to the north woods. Grandpa doesn't like it when she strays too far from home, and with rumors of monsters lurking in the forest, who can blame him? Fortunately, she can fly high enough to evade their notice. She told Grandpa she wouldn't be long–she just wanted to stretch her wings for a bit. But what had started as a casual flight soon turns into something else entirely when she senses something strange coming from the old temple on the far edge of the woods.

She can't say she's familiar with the place–Grandpa's warned her time and time again against going anywhere near it. She's usually good about listening to his wise counsel; today, however, her curiosity happens to get the better of her.

And what her curiosity ends up leading her to… is just about the last thing she could have ever expected.

She smells it far before she even reaches the temple: the thick, metallic scent that hangs on the air in a way that nearly makes the fairy lose her lunch. She pushes through the nausea first, then through the trees as she cautiously approaches the temple. At first, she doesn't notice anything unusual… until her gaze drifts down to its open entrance.

Until she finds a green-clad body lying still in the grass, soiled from head to toe with his own blood.

Oh, she thinks, gobsmacked. I guess that explains that awful stench…

Shock soon gives way to panic as Ciela races down to the ground. She hovers over the body of a boy–a concerningly young one at that. Messy golden hair drapes over his closed eyes, his face pale and plagued with lingering pain. There's blood just above everywhere, with most of it pooling over his exposed back as he lay listlessly on his stomach, his feet just barely beyond the threshold of the temple. Ciela has no idea how long he's been here like this, and she initially worries it's been far too long. That is, until she flies in a bit closer and hears the rough, rattling breaths passing through his parted lips.

"You're still alive?!" she gasps, jolting back. "Oh, thank the goddesses! Um, ok." She swallows hard, completely out of her element here. She's not a healing fairy, nor is she big enough to help him in any meaningful way outside of getting someone who can. "Don't… don't go anywhere–I mean, not that you really could right now anyway, but–I-I'll go get Grandpa, he can help–I hope! Be right back, I promise!"

She knows he can't hear her, just as much as she knows he might not have much time left. So she flies off, as fast as her wings can carry her, praying to all three goddesses above that she isn't too late.

Little does she know one of those goddesses is listening. And she's already answered.

He stands before a mirror, but something is… off about it. Distorted. Wrong. The colors of his reflection are dull, dark, all but drained of any semblance of vibrance. Even stranger yet, his reflection's gaze doesn't meet his, even though he's staring him straight in the eyes. Eyes that are nowhere near as green as he knows them to be.

Instead, his reflection looks down, dead-eyed, almost, unmoving even as he reaches a hand up to skim the glass between them. He stumbles back from the mirror when his reflection finally snaps his head up to look at him. With dark, crimson eyes.

His reflection doesn't speak; it only smiles, coldly, confidently–a stark contrast to the shock written all over Link's face. The colors continue fading from his reflection, until he's left completely monochromatic, not that he seems to care. The reflection's grin only grows more malicious as something begins to take shape in the glass behind him. It takes Link only seconds to recognize a shore he knows better than any other, the very same shore he grew up on.

Suddenly, his reflection is no longer alone. On the beach behind him, Aryll waves, cheerfully calling out words Link can't hear. Grandma stands alongside her, smiling warmly. And then, there's Tetra–flanked by her crew, her arms crossed and her face set in that playful wink he's come to know so well. He glances back to see if any of them are behind him, but all he finds is an empty void surrounding him. So he reaches forward, for what lies in the other side of the mirror, for what he longs for and where he longs to be–

But all his hand can touch is the wall of glass keeping them apart.

His reflection's smile turns triumphant as he starts to turn to face his friends and family. He shouts to them, trying to warn them, but they don't seem to hear a single word. He even resorts to beating on the glass, but it doesn't yield, no matter what he does. Panic surges through his chest as he desperately claws at the mirror, begging the group gathered on the other side of it to hear him, to see him, to even just notice him. But how can they when 'he's' already standing right in front of him?

His breath hitches when his reflection looks back at him, still wearing that disgusting, treacherous smile. His red eyes blaze with violence, with bloodlust, with evil so strong it shakes Link to his very core. That reflection, that goddess-damned thing is about to go home in his place, to fool the people he loves, to keep him trapped here, utterly and inconsolably alone.

And… all he can do is stand there and watch it happen.

So it goes, over and over again, a nightmare he can't seem to wake up from. Until, of course, he finally does.

Consciousness comes back to him in slow-moving waves. For far too long, everything's blurry and hazy as a headache blooms to life in the space right between his eyes. A groan spills out of his dry mouth, but his body is warm and comfortable as he lies on something soft. Each breath sparks a dull thrum of pain across his back, but it's nowhere near as bad as it had been during his final moments inside of the temple. Speaking of which–

He doesn't see the temple's cold, stony walls surrounding him anymore. Instead, he thinks he's in a house, though he can't remain conscious enough to make much out about it. What he does see is that someone's walking toward him. They creak quietly across a wooden floor, and all Link is able to make out about them is a white beard dangling from their face.

"K-King…?" he croaks, delirious. He swears it must be a million degrees in here, hotter than the depths of Dragon Roost Cavern. But if the King of Hyrule is here, then everything will be fine. He's safe, for the first time in what feels like forever. He's safe.

But then, the King–the stranger stops, draws in a sharp breath. He slowly shakes his head.

"No." There's a certain sadness in the old man's voice. "Not anymore."

Link stiffens when a hand gently slides under his head, guiding it upward. It's a slow, gentle movement, but it's enough to send hot agony shooting through the wounds on his back. He chokes out a strangled cry, tears blurring his vision even more. He moans in protest when something hot skims his parted lips. It takes every last ounce of strength he has left in him to turn away from it. Even as out of it as he is, the last thing he wants is someone he doesn't know forcing some mysterious substance down his throat. Even if said throat is practically begging for even the smallest drink.

"Please, child," the stranger pleads, pushing the spoon toward him again. "You must eat something or you'll never-"

Link doesn't catch the tail end of what he says. He's too tired to struggle any longer, so he lets the old man have his way. Warm, savory broth pours into his mouth and it's so good he doesn't even think twice about swallowing. It reminds him of his Grandma's famous soup, rich and flavorful, and most of all comforting, like a taste of home. He closes his eyes and lets the stranger spoon as much of that soup as he wants into him, not even caring if it might be poisoned or come at an eventual price.

By the time the old man helps his head rest back on its pillow, he can't keep his eyes open any longer. It doesn't take him long to realize there must have been some sort of medicinal herbs mixed into that soup because his back feels numb now, and so does the rest of his body. There had probably been something to put him to sleep in the soup too, because within minutes he's out of it all over again.

The mirror doesn't appear in his dreams again.

What shows up in its place is almost just as frightening. Feverish nightmares of what he went through as Bellum's prisoner. Of cruelly-crafted visions of his loved ones coldly criticizing everything he's ever done, everything he's ever been. Of slithering tentacles coiling around every inch of his body, strangling the Life Force straight out of wherever it's hiding inside his soul. Of the deadly Phantoms lurking the halls of the temple, ready and eager to tear him limb-from-limb.

He wakes up screaming more times than he can count, tearing open his bandaged wounds each time he thrashes violently in his bed. The stranger always hurries to his side to shove some kind of medicine or sleeping potion into him just to get him to calm down and stop hurting himself even more. Link knows he should be grateful, but he isn't. Because each time he's thrown back into slumber, he's also thrown right back into those awful nightmares, right back into the clutches of the very beast that nearly took his life.

He doesn't know how long it goes on like that. Every now and then, he'll find himself in the bizarre space between nightmares, where he knows he's awake, but nothing feels real. In that space, the stranger feeds him, changes his bandages, tends to his wounds. He must be able to tell that Link is still too out of it to even speak because each of their encounters is silent outside of the first. He's glad for that; he doesn't feel like talking, even if he could. As drugged up on potions as he probably is, it's not like he'd be able to carry much of a coherent conversation anyway.

He's just about resigned himself to an eternity of tortuous nightmares and bleary half-consciousness until one day. He wakes up slowly, crawling his way out of another faceoff against the Phantoms and back into reality. Light streams across his vision, far too bright for comfort. It pours in from an open window not too far away, a warm sea breeze swaying the curtains on either side of it. For the first time, he's lucid enough to take in the room properly, clean, spacious, and simply furnished, a little like his small house back on Outset. He doesn't see the stranger looming anywhere nearby, so he assumes he must be alone.

Until he spots the tiny ball of yellow light resting on his chest.

Link stares at it, confused as he watches it breathe on its own accord. It takes his still-muddled mind far too long to spot the pair of wings attached to it and realize what that light actually is. He doesn't know where a fairy, of all creatures, could have come from, or if it's actually capable of healing or not. But something about her presence rings familiar in a way he can't quite place, comforting and warm. So he lets her stay sleeping where she is, taking care not to disturb her as he tries to get a better handle on his situation.

He looks down at himself, noting that his tunic is gone, leaving his chest bare beneath the cozy blanket draped over him. Several layers of bandages cover his torso, for the sake of his back and likely his side too. He feels more of them wrapped tightly around his left ankle, the same one the Phantom had twisted to keep him from escaping. His stomach churns at the memory.

There are plenty of other smaller bandages peppered across his body, meant for smaller injuries, minor cuts and bruises. All in all, he's not as bad off as he could have been, but he's not doing great either. He still feels so soul-crushingly weak, just like he did back in the temple. It's a strange feeling, one that echoes through his bones with emptiness unlike anything he's ever known. Like the absence of something important, something essential. Something that was stolen from him to satiate a demon's ravenous appetite.

He sighs, letting his head rest back onto the pillow as he closes his eyes. He doesn't intend to go back to sleep, but he's not sure what else to do–or what he even can do in his current condition. Frustration silently settles over him as he realizes he probably can't even walk right now. There's only one other time he'd been bedridden like this–when he was very young and had been laid out with some unknown illness that had been going around Outset. He only vaguely remembers the shadow of his mother hanging over him to press a cool cloth on his hot forehead. He wonders if the stranger has had to do the same thing over the past… however long he's been here for.

"Psst, are you awake?" a bright, yet quiet voice cuts through his thoughts. He cracks one eye open to find the fairy's up now, still standing on his chest as she looks over him curiously. "Oh! You are!" her wings lift her up into the air just above him. "Finally! I was starting to wonder if you'd ever wake up!"

He opens his mouth to say something, only for his throat to close up on him, dry as a bone. The fairy watches him, confused at first, until she gasps in realization. "Here!" she flutters over to the nightstand beside the bed, where a pitcher full of water sits waiting for him. "Drink up!"

He reaches a shaking hand out to grab it, not even attempting to sit up to drink properly for the sake of his aching back. Of course, that choice comes with a cost. His hands are still trembling, too weak to bear the pitcher's weight. It slips out of his grasp, cool water spilling all over his face and chest. Link sputters, shocked at just how uncoordinated he is, by how he can't even pick up a simple pitcher of water anymore-

"Oh no!" the fairy shrieks, flying to the door of the room. "Grandpa! C'mere! Hurry, please!"

Link frowns, still dripping wet as he watches someone slowly shuffle in. A short old man, back slightly hunched over, a gray beard and bushy eyebrows to match it. The stranger, he realizes, happy that his mind is finally clear enough to recognize him. Even if he isn't happy about much else right now.

"Oh my," the old man stops short as he takes in the boy's plight. He shakes his head, chuckling softly; Link feels his face growing warm with embarrassment when he hears it. "A bit over-eager, were we, lad? You know," he hobbles the rest of the way over, relying on his cane. It's taller than he is, with some sort of large conch shell perched atop it. "If you wanted water that badly, you could have just called out for some. I would have been more than happy to pour you a glass."

Link bristles, scowling as he looks away from the old man. Even though he can speak now, he's not so sure he wants to after an introduction like that. The fairy, however, seems to have other ideas.

"Soooo, now that you're awake…" she begins, flying back into his field of view. "What's your name? Where did you come from? Why were you lying outside of the temple? How'd you get so beaten up? Did you-"

"Ciela," the old man interrupts as he works to dry Link off. "I think the poor lad is a little overwhelmed. Perhaps one question at a time would be easier for him."

"Right, right," the fairy–Ciela–clearly tries to contain her excitement. "Ok, um… why don't we start with your name?"

He hesitates, looking between the odd pair before him before offering an answer, his voice still faint and ragged from misuse. "Link."

"Link," Ciela echoes, flying in closer to him. "Nice to meet you! I'm Ciela, and this is my Grandpa!"

"Oshus," the old man corrects to Link, "You may call me Oshus, my boy."

Link draws in a sharp breath. He nearly warns Oshus not to call him that, not to call him 'my boy' because only one man was allowed to do that. And that man had been lost at the bottom of the sea what feels like such a long time ago now.

"Oh," is all he says instead.

"How are you feeling, lad?" Oshus asks, inspecting his bandages. "I must admit, you weren't far from death when we brought you here. There were times when even I wasn't entirely sure you'd pull through."

No kidding… Link grumbles in his thoughts, sinking a bit further into his bed. He's quickly reaching the conclusion that he doesn't really like this old man, so much like the King, but so very different from him at the same time. Ciela, on the other hand-

"I'm so glad you're ok," she gently perches on top of his head, where his cap would usually be. "I was so worried about you!"

"I… don't know if I'm really ok yet…" he says, preferring to talk to her over Oshus.

"And you likely won't be for some time yet," Oshus says. When the man turns to get him a dry blanket, Link doesn't hesitate to shoot an annoyed glare his way. "You're welcome to stay here as long as you need to recover."

"Uh, yeah," Link tries to sit up, only for the pain in his back to keep him pinned down. "Where is here, exactly?"

"Mercay Island!" Ciela fills him in.

"Mercay…" Link frowns. "I've never heard of it. How far away is it from Outset?" The blank look on Oshus' wrinkled face isn't lost on him, so he moves his frame of reference a bit. "Um… Windfall? Forest Haven?"

Oshus hums, bowing his head in thought for a moment. "It appears you're far from home, lad. Very far."

Well… that's alright, Link tells himself. Once he's healed, he can find or fashion a boat and set sail in search of Tetra and her crew. For all he knows, they might already be out there looking for him anyway. This shouldn't be too much of a challenge, shouldn't even take that long, except–

He remembers an entire year has passed. Even if Tetra had been searching for him, she probably gave up a long time ago.

She probably thinks he's dead.

The very idea makes Link feel sick, even sicker when he realizes Aryll and Grandma likely think the same thing too. So much lost time, so many missed moments, and for what? To fall into a trap he'd seen coming miles away? To have his soul nearly stolen by a sadistic demon? To be injured so badly right before he could finally escape its reach?

He doesn't know. But there is one thing he does know: he doesn't want to waste another second away from the people he loves and longs to be with.

He uses his arms to pry himself up, a sharp groan escaping him as pain streaks across his back and side. Ciela leaps off his head, startled, but surprisingly, Oshus says nothing. He simply hurries over to the far side of the room to do something Link couldn't care less about right now. Not when he's putting every ounce of his focus into getting up, getting out, getting home.

"Link!" Ciela cries, frightened by his small, anguished moans. "What are you doing?!"

"I… I-I have to-" He cuts himself off with a fierce yelp when he feels the cut across his back rip open again, fresh blood rushing to leak through the bandages covering it. But he doesn't care, he can't care, because he needs to–

Something sharp pierces the side of his neck. His racing thoughts slow to a crawl as his body falls limp back onto the bed. His head rolls to the side, his eyes sharpening to a glare when he sees Oshus standing there, a now-empty syringe in his hand.

"W-what… was that…?" he asks, his tongue heavy and his words slow and slurred.

"Sedating potion," the old man sighs, shaking his head. "You cannot afford to tax yourself, Link. You must take time to rest and recover."

"N-no…" Link protests, but his eyes are already growing heavy. Whatever clarity he'd had when he woke up this time is quickly fading, and he knows all too well that he's about to fall asleep against his will. He hates that, just as much as he hates the storm of nightmares he knows will come along with it, as much as he hates the old man forcing him back into them. "I've… gotta… go… gotta… need to…"

Words fail him as he finally falls unconscious again. Ciela comes to sit on his chest again, letting out a small, sympathetic sound as she takes in the agony written all over the boy's face. Agony that's clearly more than skin-deep.

Oshus, on the other hand, stays silent, staring at the boy for quite some time. When he finally speaks, his voice is quiet, his tone far more serious than Ciela has ever heard from her Grandpa before. "I believe," he begins, stroking his beard. "He may be the one I've been looking for."

"Grandpa?" Ciela asks, confused.

The old man's gaze shifts to the tiny fairy, his head bowed low as he starts to head back into the main room of the house. "Come, Ciela," he encourages gently, sadly. "There's… much I need to tell you."

"The Spirit of Courage?" Ciela's wings go stiff with shock. "Grandpa, a-are you sure?"

"Yes," Oshus nods. They sit together before the fireplace; the sun had set hours ago and autumn evenings on Mercay are known to be chilly. But even the blazing fire can't keep the chills shooting through Ciela's tiny form as she listens to everything Grandpa has to tell her. "When we were attacked by Bellum, much of your memory was lost. Your fellow spirits, Leaf and Neri, had already been captured by the demon's servants, so I secreted you away into hiding here. I had no choice but to hide away with you–Bellum diminished my power so that I could no longer maintain my true form. I had already lost so much to the demon, child; I could not stand to lose you too…"

"Grandpa, that's…" Ciela trails off, overwhelmed. She has plenty of questions, but one makes its way to the forefront first. "Why… are you telling me all of this now?"

"Because…" A small smile appears under the man's mustache. "I believe we have met someone who may be able to help us. Someone who may hold the power to set this right."

He nods to the door of the far side of the room. Ciela gasps when she sees Link standing there, leaning against the wall for support. He keeps his injured foot hovering just above the floor, unable to stand the strain of putting any weight on it. Likewise, he clutches the wound on his side, struggling to keep his back straight so the injuries there won't worsen any more than they already have. His breathing is shallow, and it's clear even just standing there is an incredible feat in and of itself. And yet he still fixes Oshus with another distrustful look, his green eyes bright and bitter in the dull glow of the fire.

"Link!" Ciela flies in close, distraught. "What are you doing up?! You need to get back in bed and rest, just like Grandpa said!"

Link ignores her. Instead, he pushes himself forward, hobbling on only one leg as he clings on nearby furniture to stay upright. While Ciela continues fretting over him, Oshus merely watches his slow, painful approach in silence. He lets Link be the one to break it.

"Do not give me any more of that… sedating stuff," he heaves, his voice low and angry. "I want answers instead. Who are you, really?"

"Ah," Oshus shifts his gaze to the door Link had just come out of. "How much did you hear?"

"Enough to know you aren't telling me the full story here," Link narrows his eyes at him. "What do you know about Bellum?"

"I suppose I could ask you the same thing, lad," Oshus calmly returns. "I've heard you scream the demon's name in your sleep. I take it you've had an unpleasant encounter with the beast?"

Link doesn't want to have this conversation, not with Oshus, not with anyone really. But the old man clearly isn't the type to budge. There's no way he'll tell his story until Link tells his first.

"I went on board the ghost ship and Bellum captured me," he begins, deciding to go with the simple, abridged version of events Faron had told him. All why trying as hard as he can to keep his emotions out of it. "It turned me to stone and stole a lot of my Life Force. But then… someone saved me." He doesn't know why, but telling someone like Oshus about Faron doesn't rub him the right way. "She helped me escape the temple, but the Phantoms attacked me before I could get out. I don't remember anything that happened after that until I woke up here."

"...I see," Oshus turns back to the fire to stoke it. Ciela gently encourages Link to take a seat, and he does, keeping a close, cold eye on Oshus all the while.

"What about you?" he asks. "You said Bellum attacked you and Ciela; did it steal your Life Force too?"

"Yes, much of it," Oshus keeps his gaze set on the fire. Link can't quite see his eyes under his eyebrows, but he can only imagine the haunted look in them. "I've told Ciela the full story, so I suppose I might as well do the same for you."

Link leans forward. As much as he may not like Oshus, he can't deny he's curious to know more about him. Especially after the bits and pieces he'd caught of his conversation with Ciela on the way out here.

"To begin with, I have reason to believe that the sea you come from and the sea we're surrounded by now are not one at the same, Link," he says, not giving Link a chance to even ask what in the world that's supposed to mean. "The ocean you know is the domain of the Golden Three, and while we still revere them here, this world was formed by the Ocean King."

"I've… heard of him," Link nods. Tetra's crew had brought him up when they'd first encountered the ghost ship, and Faron had said the cursed temple had once belonged to the king. Beyond that though, he knows nothing. But he does have a very strong and sudden hunch when he takes another look at the strange old man sitting beside him. "Are… Is it you? Are you the Ocean King?"

Ciela gasps, dumbfounded as to how he could have figured it out that easily. Oshus, on the other hand, simply smiles. "Clever boy. It is indeed true; I am–was the being known as the mighty Ocean King. Until I was savagely attacked by an unfathomable evil."

"Bellum is an ageless creature, a demon born of raw malice and hatred," Oshus goes onto explain. "It seeks out Life Force from its victims, draining them of it until their quick and painful deaths. The more powerful the victim, the harder Bellum works to take them down. And so it was that the demon beset me, and a great clash ensued."

"For years, I struggled against Bellum's power." The fire casts long shadows over the old man's face, his voice growing softer as he continues his woeful tale. "But against an evil so great, even I could not overcome it. It sapped me of a great deal of Life Force, forcing me to retreat from its reach in the frail form you see before you now."

"Three spirits serve the Ocean King, keeping this world and its people safe," Ciela picks up the story, recalling what her Grandpa just told her. Her usual spritely tone is gone, replaced by something much more solemn as she takes a seat on Link's shoulder. "The spirits of Power, Wisdom, and Courage. The first two spirits were captured by Bellum's monsters. But I… I managed to escape with Grandpa. I lost my memory, so I didn't even know until tonight…"

"...Ciela," Link frowns, sympathetic for the tiny creature. As bad off as he might be, at least he still has his memories of home to cling onto; Ciela doesn't even have that.

"Using the Life Force it leeched from me, Bellum's evil spread across this ocean," Oshus says, morose. "It bred more and more monsters, and lured countless innocents to their doom using the ghost ship it conjured as a treacherous trap. It stole away my sacred temple and its guardians, the Phantoms, forcing them to do its wicked bidding."

Link absently reaches behind him, tenderly running a hand over the bandages across his back. Faron had already told him as much, but Link still couldn't help but wonder just how many souls had been less fortunate than he had. How many innocent people hadn't been able to get away?

"Is there any way to stop Bellum?" Ciela asks the question just before Link can.

"...There might be," Oshus cracks a faint smile. He stands, shuffling over to a large chest nearby. By the fire's light, Link can only barely make out the deep blue device he draws out of it.

"The Phantom Hourglass…" he whispers, eyes wide.

"Hm?" Oshus turns back to him, confused. "You… know what this is?"

"Uh… yeah," Link rubs his arm. "F-t-the woman who saved me told me about it. She said it could keep a person safe from the curse on the temple."

"That's true," Oshus returns to his seat, holding the hourglass up so Link can get a better look. "It is filled with a special kind of magic–the Sand of Hours. It is said that the sand is made up of the ocean's Life Force, an energy so pure that even Bellum can do little to oppose it. I took the Hourglass from its resting spot when the demon took over my temple, but when I was attacked, its sands were scattered, stolen away by the fell beasts under Bellum's command. And so it continues to steal even more, to the point that, if left unopposed, it won't be long before this entire sea fades away."

A grave beat of silence passes, broken only by the sound of the fire softly crackling. While Link can't say he feels too bad about Oshus' plight, he does worry for this world, wherever it might be, and for the friendly fairy sitting on his shoulder. Certainly, they don't deserve to meet such a cruel fate–no one does.

"In its current state, the Hourglass does not possess enough power to allow someone to safely traverse the temple," Oshus tips the Hourglass over; the sands inside of it sparkle a faint shade of gold as they rush downward into the bottom bowl. Link can practically feel their power, similar to a certain sword he used to carry. He wonders if there's any sort of connection between them. "But if one were to slay Bellum's monsters and reclaim the Sand of Hours… then there is a strong chance that they could enter the temple and vanquish the demon from this world, once and for all."

Link's still in the middle of trying to take everything in when Oshus suddenly holds the Hourglass out to him, silently urging him to take it. Instead, Link stares at the sacred item, utterly baffled by what the old man is apparently asking him to do.

"Me?" he scoffs, pushing the Hourglass away. "No, I… I can't."

"You can," Oshus insists. "I sense the power of a hero within you, lad. You-"

"I'm not a hero," Link hisses, glaring toward the fire. In its amber glow, he can practically see Bellum's terrifying eye staring straight into his soul. He can almost hear the demon's cruel taunts, telling him the exact same thing he just said out loud for himself. "Not anymore."

"I believe you're selling yourself short, Link," Oshus continues pushing the Hourglass toward him. It takes every ounce of self-control Link has to not shove such an important artifact out of his hands and let it shatter all over the ground. "You've come to us, from an entirely different world altogether, for a reason."

"Yeah, because I was captured!" Link argues, appalled by the audacity of this stubborn old man. King or no king, he ought to be ashamed for asking an injured child to fight his battles for him. "Look, I'm sorry about what happened to you and Ciela, but I just… can't help you, ok? I… I couldn't even save myself from Bellum," he loathes to admit it, as much as it may be true. "How do you expect me to save an entire ocean?"

The Ocean King finally pulls the Hourglass back, looking away. "Because that's something you've done before."

"W-what?" Link asks, unnerved. Then again, maybe he shouldn't be. This is a deity he's talking to, after all. "How do you know-"

"There is still strength within you yet, Link, regardless of the Life Force Bellum may have taken from you," Oshus interrupts. But if Link wasn't going to take that kind of meaningless encouragement from Faron, someone he actually liked, he sure as hell isn't about to take it from someone like Oshus.

"No, just… stop," he pulls himself out of his seat, his body seizing up with pain from his injuries. He sways from the sudden movement, but grips the back of the chair to steady himself, turning away from Ciela when she flies in close to check on him. "I can't fight that thing–I won't! I almost died just trying to get away from it, and you want me to go running right back to it? I'll never make it on my own!"

"Ah, but you won't be on your own this time," Oshus counters. He remains calm and collected throughout the entire exchange, even if the boy before him is clearly anything but. "You'll have the Phantom Hourglass and the spirits to-"

"I don't care!" Link snaps. His back is throbbing, his ankle is in similar straits, and a headache is stirring from the strain of it all. He desperately wants to go and lie down. But he wants to leave even more. "All I want to do is go home. So find someone else to get rid of Bellum for you, because it can't be me."

"Link-"

He isn't interested in anything else the crazy old man might have to say. He turns to head back to the bedroom, to gather his clothing and head out into the night on his own. As to what he'll do from there… he'll figure it out. Somehow. He'll swim back to Outset Island if there's no other options, no matter how far away it might be.

But maybe… he won't have to.

"Perhaps," Oshus says. "You'd change your mind if I told you that I could return you to your world?"

It's enough to get Link to stop in the middle of the room. With nothing to hold onto, he struggles to balance only on his uninjured leg, but he does all the same. "What do you mean?" he slowly glances back at the old man.

"Once Bellum is defeated, my full power will be restored," Oshus stands, slowly stepping over to him. He hands his staff over to Link to let him lean on it for the support he so clearly needs. As much as he might not want to, he begrudgingly takes it. "With such power, sending you back to the ocean you call home should be an easy feat."

Link eyes him, suspicious. He doesn't detect any dishonesty in the old man's tone, but the last thing he wants is to be duped and deceived into risking his life when he shouldn't have to. "You can really do that?"

Oshus nods. "And I'd be more than happy to. But as I am now, I'm afraid there is little I can do to help you, Link. Not unless you help us first."

Link knows the old man doesn't mean for it to come across as manipulative, but it does all the same. Everything about this offer does. It aggravates Link enough that he nearly turns it down outright in favor of finding his own way home. But if he really is in some other world entirely, then that may be much easier said than done. In fact, it might even be impossible without the help of a god like the Ocean King. But what that Ocean King is asking of him in return…

It's far too much.

Maybe if it was a year ago, if he was still at his full strength, if he had Tetra to stand by his side, he wouldn't feel so uncertain, so scared. But the thought of having to face Bellum again, a monster who took far more from him than mere Life Force alone… it's almost unbearable. Even Ganondorf hadn't brought him the kind of terror that beast does. He was lucky to escape Bellum the first time around–and he only really had because of Faron.

He's not so sure he'll survive a second time.

He's not so sure he'll survive never seeing any of his friends or family again either.

It's an impossible decision to make. Oshus must know that too because he gives Link plenty of time to think it over. He wavers back and forth between his only two options, neither of them sounding like very viable ones. Either he'll stay stranded in this strange new world forever… or he'll have to fight a battle he doesn't believe he can truly win. He feels like he's stuck at sea without a sail, without the light of any sort of stars to guide him to where he ought to go. Indecision eats away at him, threatening to tear him apart, until–

Ciela lands on his shoulder again. He slowly turns to look at her, his brows knitting when he hears her soft, pleading whisper. "Link, please… We need you…"

They need him. This ocean needs him, in the same way another ocean entirely needed him not so long ago. Even if this world isn't his own, how can he say no when it's on the verge of fading away? How can he at least not make the effort to try?

He may not be able to call himself a hero anymore… but that doesn't mean he can't still help like a hero would.

"...Ok," he says softly. And this time, when Oshus hands him the Hourglass, he takes it, hands trembling with terror he can't even try to hide. With terror that strikes him straight down to his weakened soul. "I'll do it."

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