A/N:
As always, a HUGE thank you to Norkix (here on FFnet) for beta reading this chapter! I'm so thankful for his support, his attention to detail, and his friendship!
Also, a special little thanks to Ikuni Hattori (also here on FFnet) for consistently helping me whenever I'm in a writing slump!
Unfortunately, it's becoming quite common for me to start each chapter like this, but I still want to extend an apology for the lengthy, unforeseen delay between updates! A lot of chaotic personal circumstances have been going on in my life, but I'm hoping to settle down soon and pour more of my focus into this story again. This is a short chapter, but the next chapter shouldn't be far from its trail (I'm already more than halfway done with it)!
Enjoy the chapter nonetheless! Thank you for the continued support!
XXXXX
Zelda's eyelids cracked open, inch by grueling inch. Instantly, her vision became overwhelmed by splotches of blurry, desaturated colors and mystifying shapes. What immediately struck her as odd, though–even in her groggy, sorely depleted state–was that no ribbons of sunlight or tendrils gleaned from the pale moon's gaze danced upon her face. Nothing familiar greeted her, save for a flush of bitter delirium and relentless visual snow.
Her head also pounded. Brutally pounded. As if a bronze-plated hammer was attempting to reshape her brain. Her mind was as muddled as her vision, and her whole body ached; bones screeching and popping, muscles inflamed with pulsating fire, veins sore and swollen.
She had expected–hoped, really–to cull a sliver of restfulness after coming to life again. Yet, frustratingly, Zelda felt even worse than before. Her skin felt taut and dry, her clothes were wrinkled, ripped, and muddy, and her hair lay tangled above her head, plastered on the cotton shell of her pillow.
Wait, pillow?
A moment in time–short and wholly broken–whirled to the forefront of her mind. She saw pelting rain, flashes of neon thunder, a peppering of soggy treetops, and the darkened whisper of the impelling wind.
I was last in the Minish Woods… wasn't I?
Against her better judgment, Zelda whipped her upper body forward with a solid crunch, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and pressing her hands into the mattress to steady herself. The bedsprings creaked loudly from the sudden movement–though, Zelda briefly thought that the noise had emanated from her crackling skull instead. Now sitting up, her head felt even more so like it was packed with sugar crystals or flecks of gritty sand, with the constant throbbing she'd noticed upon waking up only intensifying twofold.
"Focus," she murmured to herself, the word evaporating like water from her chapped lips. Her vision began recalibrating, gently whirring to life as she sat in a disheveled heap. Zelda took note of the rarefied air that surrounded her body at that moment, too; air that felt all too hollow and all too buoyant at once. The atmosphere was doused in a crisp frostiness that perforated her flesh, raising goosebumps and summoning callous shivers across her body.
She was concealed in tranquil silence–and yet, a malicious, poisonous aura bubbled just beneath the surface, stealing her shallow breath and causing hardened tension to fester somewhere deep in her core.
Trying to ignore that tugging, internal voice that whispered only worries to her, Zelda instead focused on piecing together how she had ended up in this strange room. Aside from minor, varying blips of recollection, everything seemed fuzzy and smeared by the passage of time. She vaguely recalled traversing through the sodden pathways of the Minish Woods, stumbling beneath rain-drenched awnings and plodding through pits of mud. Yet, most of her memories were just entirely obscured; blurred on the picturesque edges that glued them together.
A deluge of questions trickled between the cracks in her mind. Had she been alone, or had someone escorted her? Did she go without her bow or equipment of any kind? Had she found anything? Distorted stains buried these major details, only crumpling those sequences of events into an even denser knot within her subconscious.
Having been caught in the throes of the past, it took Zelda a moment to realize that her vision had completely refocused and her gaze had been affixed to a crooked picture hung on the wall in front of her. It depicted an idyllic nature scene, stained with a light wash of teal, mint green, lavender, and honey gold hues. The imagery was as stunning as it was paradoxical to the rest of the room's setting, now that she chanced a more in-depth look around. In all directions, she noticed the mellow, dull tones that bathed the walls and flooring. There was little furniture, but of the furniture that there was, it was crooked and rotting, scraped against the lip of the drywall haphazardly. No candles or natural light dared to perturb the cold space, only heightening the muted and gloomy ambiance further.
Although everything around her appeared worn down to some extent–whether by a considerable amount or negligibly–minor details she had spotted such as distinctive, exotic wood carvings or intricate metallic embellishments showed that this was once a lively space, likely full of luxurious spoils. Even by her feet, the tattered fibers of a crimson rug were splayed open, and in the dim environment, Zelda could still detect a handful of golden threads interwoven throughout the fabric, catching onto any drop of hazy luminescence and reflecting it back with a bleary wink.
The bedsprings sputtered to life as Zelda shifted her weight again, settling her feet on top of the bare stitchings of the rug she had just been ogling at. She attempted to stand, but her body unintentionally dipped forward instead, her weak knees and locked joints unable to carry her full weight. On instinct, her hands jolted out like lightning; swift and unforeseen. Her flattened palms pressed against the wall, catching her unstable form and raising a shroud of aggravated dust.
Her head wordlessly slouched toward the ground, her shoulders slumping in defeat. The tangled strands of her yellow-gold hair curtained her strained expression, one which was full of exhaustion and agony and grief. A grating, piecey whine sat at the corners of her mouth, sending a vibrational ache across the plane of her sore muscles. What happened to me? she thought, squeezing her eyes shut and whisking her vision into complete darkness. I feel absolutely terrible. Worse than when I fell ill a week ago.
Minutes lurched by in a syrupy loll, though time felt utterly discombobulated and pointless regardless. Sluggishly, Zelda flexed her fingers and knees, attempting to pump molten blood throughout her body as a means to reawaken her stiffened joints. After swallowing a hearty gust of air in preparation, she shoved herself away from the wall she clung to, straightening her spine and rejoining her eyesight to the world once standing.
"I have to figure out where I am," she muttered under her breath, her vision coiling and magnifying as she adjusted to her upright position. The sour venom of panic lacquered the roof of her mouth, and her voice seemed artificial and airy even to her own ears. "None of this feels right."
Now more lucid and stable, Zelda peered around the room once again, hoping to pinpoint something–anything–that could be of use to her. Amidst the dangling cobwebs that sparkled like woven quicksilver or the particles of dust that needlessly freckled the atmosphere, she noticed the outline of a faint door just a few paces down, tucked away perfectly against the flat wall. With renewed energy and impulse, she began hobbling towards it in stride.
It didn't take long before her hand found purchase on the rusted doorknob, the cool metal feeling all too foreboding against her battered, balmy flesh. With a clumsy flick of her wrist, she turned it, praying to the goddesses above that the door would effortlessly sweep open, ushering in a pleasant breeze that would whip away the knotted strands of hair that still aimlessly clung to her pallid cheeks.
However, she was greeted with nothing more than the unpleasant twang of rattling; the doorknob trembling and shaking in exaggerated denial. A frustrated groan rumbled in the back of Zelda's throat, unintelligible defeat etched in its tremor.
Exasperated, she pivoted on the balls of her feet, allowing her eyes to glaze over the remaining details of the room once again, searching for any lingering features she may have missed in her earlier haste. But, once again, she was simply met with unsettled gray soot, rotting, misshapen furniture, and unsavory decor–none of which was useful to her right now.
Her hope never simmered into ash, though, knowing full well that standing in silence and idly twiddling her thumbs would lead her nowhere. Upon another tedious and thorough examination of the somber area, she finally noticed something askew. Pushed flush against the opposite wall was a perfectly square, quaint fixture that was easy to mistake for a slab of unremarkable embossing or misshapen construction of some kind. It matched the darkened wall it was compressed against flawlessly, and Zelda couldn't help but wonder if that was an intentional design choice to disguise its very existence. It's no wonder I initially missed that, she mused. The longer she stared, the more she thought it looked like a heavy-weight, thick curtain forged to block out any sprouting light from a–hopeful, potential–window, and cautious joy leaped in her leaden heart at the prospect.
Her head still spun with confusion, the sludge of a thick fog having taken residence within the dizzying space, but she focused on steadying her composure and inching her way toward this newly discovered, intriguing target nonetheless. Her footsteps teetered on the ground, carrying her past a fractured bookshelf crammed with soil and grime, as well as the footboard of the oversized bed that devoured most of the space in the room.
As soon as she was an arm's length away, she was certain that she was standing before an antiquated, small-scale window. The curtain that stubbornly shielded the room from even a crumb of light was thicker than any fabric she'd ever seen before, constructed in a shade that coordinated with the colorless overtone of the room perfectly. Her hand reached out and clutched the drooping cloth, her nerves shooting upright and wriggling like unrelenting worms from the trite action. Dutifully, she stamped them beneath their imaginary soil before swiftly ripping the curtain aside, forcing herself to push beyond her boundless fears without hesitance.
A sheet of blinding, white light was the first thing to enter her pupils, quickly depriving her of the luxury of vision. Her eyelids involuntarily shut, though a branded, glowing sheen remained seared just behind the fragile skin. A stale beat passed before the vividly bright sting of fresh light lessened, and Zelda was able to hesitantly squint her eyes in the direction of whatever unknown landscape awaited her.
She glanced down from the tiny aperture she had discovered, her intrigue piqued and her sore muscles tensed, yet all she saw was… a creamy smudge of sky, marred by puffs of clouds. There were no land masses, no buildings, no mountains; nothing tangible was in sight. All she could see was a mile-long stretch of pastel blue, dotted unevenly with tufts of watery, cotton-like clouds.
She was somewhere far away, lost adrift in the unfurling air itself.
"Do you like the view, princess?"
Zelda spun on her heels at a breakneck pace, the sudden maneuver sending shockwaves throughout her skull. With her back turned against the passing sky, fiery blue met frozen crimson; her unsteady gaze locked onto Vaati's imperious form, who sat regally on top of the bed she had awoken from only moments prior.
Instantly, the memories of last night hit her like a crumbling brick, and her nerves ignited into flames at the mere sight of Vaati's cavalier grin sicced on her frail state again. She suddenly remembered everything. The way that Rorro–no, Vaati–had guided her deep into the Minish Woods under a false pretense, raised her desire into a barren hope, and then snatched everything she'd worked for away in a single, humiliating, glass-forged second. He had kidnapped her, and he had undoubtedly brought her somewhere isolated and unknown, stealing any shred of comfort she had maintained for the possibility of a rescue.
Sterling rage swallowed her whole, and just as she was about to fire a retort, Vaati coolly spoke again, "Well, no need to answer," he all but purred, an amused lilt in his voice, "I can see that you're quite annoyed."
She felt her tendons snap beneath layers of stringy tissue. "Annoyed?" Her chest puffed out from an intake of sour air, white-hot anger flooding her lungs. Her eyes widened, with the very corners of her vision tinged a cautionary red. "You think that after everything you've done–to me, to Link, to the people of Hyrule… That after all of that, I'm just annoyed?"
He raised an eyebrow, that frustratingly taunting grin still present on his face. "You certainly aren't happy right now, are you?"
Breathe, she told herself. And yet, her lungs would not steady, stretching and collapsing like fire-starting bellows. You know he's just trying to provoke you. Even still, her emotions only swelled and roared to life louder, erupting into a myriad of illimitable splinters. Don't fall for his trap and stoop to needless anger! But by now, her inner voice had become so quiet–too quiet–that it no longer mattered. She felt that creeping, numbing sensation of pure hatred scale her body, and she knew she could no longer restrain herself.
Zelda lunged forward in his direction, her hands clenched into unsteady fists. In the deepest corners of her mind, she yearned for her light magic; prayed it would auspiciously appear at the pads of her fingertips and the blades of her knuckles before searing into Vaati's infuriating form. She envisioned the blinding hiss of her radiant power, the satisfying crack of her blunt strike meeting its target, the anticipated headrush of her potential escape and blissful victory afterward…
However, none of that occurred. There was no burst of hypnotic light magic, nor even the gratification of her attack landing as intended.
No, instead, her body collapsed atop the plush blanket that was sprawled across the bed where Vaati had been, with her face pressed lamely into the fabric. Her arms just barely spilled over the edge, stretched high above her head with her fingertips brushing the cool metal of the bed frame. The only remnant of Vaati's presence was a chilling wisp of wind that curled around the exposed skin on the nape of her neck, prickling the area as if it had been knotted with barbed wire. The sensation faded as soon as it had begun, though, leaving Zelda to wonder if it had even been there at all.
Deflated and abruptly robbed of her unbidden rage, she almost just lay there, with her body stinging and her mind unanchored. Why hadn't her light magic jolted to life? Her fingers vibrated lazily, signaling the call to action Zelda had tried to invoke, and yet… Her peachy skin remained unaltered, free from the superficial calluses that often tarnished her hands upon use.
She had no time to dwell on the unknown, however–no matter how much she wanted to. She was keenly aware of the perilous situation she was ensnared in; felt the sheer magnitude of the worries that she silently fostered tenfold. That speck of fear continued to twist in her gut, so palpable and transfixing in its weight that she couldn't deny its suppressing existence for long. Truly, the thought of Vaati returning now, after Zelda's defiance and brazen display of anger was enough to rush a stream of blood to the tips of her toes and reawaken her tired body.
Clumsily, Zelda rolled off of the bed, every bone in her body weeping from the motion. The world spun as she came to a wobbling stand, with her eyes reflexively landing on the door she'd tried to open earlier. What could she even do now? Maybe if she could trick Vaati somehow–in some way–she could get him to unlock that door? However, that would also require her to summon him, to face his incending wrath–which was exactly what she was trying to avoid.
Granted, she had almost nothing to lose; penned into an unfamiliar environment, lost without her magic, and hopelessly alone. It was ultimately a longshot, a plan that hinged on far too many uncontrolled variables to be safe, but–with her scope of options thin, it seemed to be the only chance she truly had right now.
If she even had any chances at all, that is.
Don't think like that, she mentally scolded. I can't give up. Link would find a way, and I can as well.
She had only taken two meager steps, had only had enough time to vaguely consider what her next move should be, when a crushing pressure bit down on both of her wrists and whirled her hands behind her back in a bruising hold. A malicious, windchime chuckle–one that she had grown so frustratingly accustomed to–resonated from right behind her, the sound materializing much too close to the shell of her ear for comfort.
Another wave of anger lapped at her feet, intensifying beyond a placid tide as Vaati's voice cut through the delicate air, "Now, now… It would be truly unwise for you to forget who has the upper hand here, don't you agree?" His tone was unusually subdued; dripping with danger. His warm breath grazed the nape of her neck as he spoke, prompting her heart to flutter uneasily in her chest. She inwardly searched for any sharp retort, any unforeseen remark or scathing insult–yet, all of her words had died in her throat; dissolving into nothing more than wax-covered sap.
Zelda wriggled in his bind, trying in vain to release herself from Vaati's antagonizing constraint. He held her rigidly in place, though, suppressing the space she needed for movement outside of short, jerking twists and tugs. Her feet felt planted into the floorboards as if they were encased in tar, and she wondered, idly, if Vaati was using his magic to do so or if she was merely immobilized and involuntarily bowing to his whim.
With her gaze held firm and fixed on the wood-peeling door she'd previously been heading toward–grateful she wasn't facing Vaati's detestable leer, at least–she managed to sputter a half-hearted response, "Why are you doing this?! Why not just turn me into stone like Link, or like you did all those years ago?" Her voice cracked at the mention of Link's name; at the reminder of her complete severance from him right now. Her eyes lowered to the ground, a whisper just barely falling from her lips, "Why are you toying with me like this?"
She could feel his grin grow, could hear it in his voice as he levied an answer, "Isn't it obvious?" he taunted, "It's much more fun this way, watching you crumble at my fingertips and completely fall apart. It'll make my ensuing triumph that much grander."
Her blood ran cold at the admission. Even though she had expected him to say exactly that, his immediate concession and nearly exultant tone caught her off-guard. Pure, liquid anger bubbled and boiled alongside the disorientation that clouded her mind, leaving her trapped within florid silence.
Nevertheless, Vaati continued, with his breath relentlessly sweeping warm, airy streams onto Zelda's exposed skin, "However, I certainly won't hesitate to turn you to stone if you defy my orders. I only need you to be conscious for a brief moment in time for my plan to succeed, but, truly, this has already been much more entertaining than our first encounter all those years ago, don't you agree?"
Amidst the cascading fatigue that chained her just as much as Vaati did, the gears in her brain continued to toil, pushing her to say something; anything in response. "And what is your plan, then?" Her voice was quiet, dry, and scratchy. She felt meek in his all-consuming presence, even with anger brimming her veins and streamlining a crushing desire for defiance throughout her core.
He snorted. "You think I would be foolish enough to tell you right now?" The pressure on her wrists increased, with his fingernails grazing the soft surface of her flesh. "Not a chance."
The air that was once bouncy and thin suddenly felt devastatingly heavy. Zelda could almost sense the weight of a stone-whittled pestle balanced atop her scalp, deftly held by unreliable fingers. Was it merely her head pounding, or Vaati's contortion of the very atmosphere around her causing this sinking feeling? Her emotions oscillated and ultimately plummeted into a pit of despair, her impulse to fight slowly waning.
"At any rate, as I was trying to explain earlier before you decided it was wise to aim your poorly executed attack at me," Vaati began, "You are in the Palace of Winds. Which, in simpler terms, means that you're in my domain, princess."
Palace of Winds? That name seems familiar, but… Caught magnified beneath Vaati's scrutiny, and with her body and head stricken by unrelenting pain, Zelda could only draw a blank in her contemplation; exhausted.
A gentle, gilded silence stretched between them at that moment, though it didn't last long. Vaati ducked his head forward in a single windswept action, perching his chin effortlessly atop Zelda's shoulder blade. Immediately, she careened her head away from his, with her nerves bundling together and her cheeks shimmering the color of a tart cherry left to wrinkle beneath the sun.
He's just trying to unnerve you, she reminded herself in a half-baked mantra, squeezing her eyes shut.
"You've become so quiet all of a sudden; what's the matter?" he drawled, sickly sweet, and leveled directly at her throat. "Am I making you uncomfortable?"
She sutured her lips into a thin line, not willing to partake in whatever game he was undoubtedly playing with her. She tilted herself as far away from him as she could, jostling her tender wrists in the process.
Like bells whistling in an untethered storm, Vaati snickered, clearly deriving amusement from her obvious discomfort. Even in the darkness spurred on by Zelda's fastened eyelids, she could still discern Vaati's wolfish leer; could still envision his face, like death warmed up, nearing her fluttering pulse in teasing mirth. She could certainly feel his grip slacken just a hint, allowing a morsel of fresh air to slip in between the suffocating pressure. Perhaps he's mistakenly given me enough room to wriggle myself free, she absentmindedly noted, her anxiety mounting with each wobbly breath she took, or, perhaps I can employ the element of surprise and slink out of his grasp if I time my next move well enough, or…
But, before she could finalize her scattered delusions, he was gone in the absence of his token fanfare–his body vanishing amongst the chilled air as if he had been little more than a horrid apparition.
Zelda's wrists sagged behind her back, finally free from Vaati's oppressing hold. Her eyes shot open and her body quickly untensed, a brief sense of tranquility quashing her fevered state.
Her thoughts sprung outward before she could reel the words back inside, her tone rife with unanswered turbulence, "What just happened?" she murmured mindlessly, "Was that even real…?"
As if on cue, the door that Zelda had been stuck–forced to glare at–finally hissed open, with the cacophony of a corroded whine and cursory pops of splintering wood following it. Before her, a lone, shadowy figure was now propped by the door frame, occupying the open space between her room and the rest of the palace beyond it. Her gaze instantly flew to this mysterious person obstructing her way, her intrigue broadening and spiking, before those feelings were forcibly yanked away and a reflexive scowl steeped across her face at the realization of who it was.
"Unfortunately for you, this is all very, very real," Vaati mockingly cooed. His violet cape billowed behind him as if he had just returned from a rigorous flight, and his long, pale lavender hair hung in a solid sheet around his face, almost hauntingly so. A crinkle of delight was visible beneath his one distinguishable eye, further showcasing the spiraling thrill he garnered just from tormenting her alone. "Before I depart, I wanted to offer you a… treat, if you will." He cracked a cold, toothy smile in her direction.
Realizing he had paused and was expecting a response, Zelda offered a curt reply, trying to stave off the acrimony in her voice, "What is it?"
"You're completely free to roam about the Palace of Winds however you wish," he said simply. "Investigate every nook and cranny, occupy your time with rupee hunting; you're even welcome to try your hand at finding an escape if that makes you feel better."
Zelda raised a frazzled eyebrow, her head sloshing like the marsh beds in Castor Wilds. "W-what? But," she faltered, "I woke up trapped in this room earlier, so why now…?"
His smirk widened, fire primed at the tip of his tongue. "If you'd prefer to stay locked in here, be my guest. I was only being hospitable. There's nothing for you to find and nowhere for you to escape. Plus," he scoffed, "I took your weapons when I brought you here, and it seems that you're utterly incapable of using your pathetic excuse for magic, anyway." Vaati's fingers drummed restlessly against his arm, pure condescension displayed on his features. "Truly," he added, "what would I even be worried about?"
Zelda's fists tightened by her side, exasperated by Vaati's sordid attempts to inflame her emotions and rattle her composure. Exasperated that it's working, she reluctantly admitted.
A snarky reply churned in the back of her throat–but again, before she was able to find her voice and bark her grievances, Vaati cut her off and pressed onwards with his imposing speech, "Now, my dear princess, although I'm sure you'd prefer to spend all of your waking hours by my side, I'm quite busy and have much to prepare in these next few days." His visible teeth glistened in the low light, the jagged contours and bleached ivory tint indistinguishable from a predator making a show for its prey. "But, don't worry too much," he avowed, "We'll have plenty of time to spend in each others' company after my plan has been finalized. Just keep yourself busy for the next two days until then."
Her eyes grew wide, and her cheeks enkindled a flickering warmth. "How dare you–" her response was clamped shut within seconds, though, as heavy sheets of wind suddenly flurried around her, propelled forward at a reckless pace. Tears prickled the corners of her eyes as she fought to maintain her vision within the very apex of the dizzying gale, its buzzing frenzy threatening to swallow her whole. She could barely make out Vaati's blurry silhouette ahead before he evaporated into some nonmaterial plane of existence, the faintest tinkling of his infamous laughter following soon thereafter.
The wind ceased with his departure, and the room softened back into a quiet, dull hum. Zelda was left alone once more, with the stale tang of confusion lingering in the small space; a maelstrom of uncertainty and augmented dread. And with it, an abundance of uncertainty clouded her mind. How had Vaati known about the strained magic she had failed to conjure earlier? Where did he take her items; were they destroyed–turned into useless rubble–or were they somewhere else, hidden in plain sight? Why was the Palace of Winds such an eerily familiar name, and yet, currently struck no concrete recollection in her memory?
Her head's continual, cadenced pounding brought her back to the present, and her hands reflexively went to massage her aching temples in search of reprieve. Slowly, and with pinched exertion, Zelda drifted to the now accessible doorway that was spread open before a shadowy abyss. Although it appeared to be mostly unlit, her tentative gaze caught sight of discarded strands of light that poked through unseen cracks and crevices, that looked delicate enough to reach out and collect.
This uncharted, maze-like domain was daunting to behold–especially when she was unequipped and likely pinned beneath the watchful eye of Vaati. However, there was no other option at hand. Zelda was going to explore the Palace of Winds, just like Vaati had advised.
But she was certainly going to make him eat his words for granting her any speck of freedom.
Maybe I don't have my bow or my magic, Zelda thought, finally advancing beyond the structured walls of the room that confined her and toward budding hope, But I still have my wisdom and my spirit, and I'll be damned if Vaati thinks he can take that from me.