A/N: *waves*. so its been a hot minute huh.

In my defense, a lot of Life things happened to me all at once. In order;

TOTK came out
I got a job in the US federal government
I graduated college
I got another job in the US federal government
I hacked my Wii-U to play a modded version of BOTW where I could play as Zelda and for SOME FUCKING REASON that inspired me more then the ever present guilt of not updating this fic did. who knew?

Katsuki barely thought anything coherent when he dispatched the monsters at the base of the shrine. He didn't even realize that was what he was running to- his legs had a mind of their own. But the second he was within earshot of the bloody little pests he swung into action, slashing their skin with his sturdy little sword.

And then it broke into two pieces, the blade stuck inside the abdomen of a bokoblin, and he grabbed the hammer on his back, smashing their skulls in.

Most of the gore dissolved into miasma before he could get a look at it. It still made him want to vomit.

So he did, when he realized he was safe. He fell to the snow covered ground and heaved his stomach contents into the cold mud.

The bokoblin's crudely made fire was like a balm on his icy skin, and he curled up close to the coals without a second thought.

He dreamt of stone walls. Safety among the lichen.

When he awoke, the sun was barely peeking over the horizon once more. He had made quite a journey the day before, even though he was still sore from his climb. He stretched out from his warm ball, the cold nipping at the bare skin of his ankles.

His feet were sore from walking, but luckily not frostbitten. He had nearly slept with his feat in the coals. He pushed himself upward and stuck his feet directly into the snow, hoping the cold would stave off the soreness. He poked the coals with a stick, added another log. He dug an apple out of his pocket and set it among the warming coals, and watched the sunrise as his breakfast cooked.

The shrine itched behind him.

Katsuki was trying hard to not think of it, or of those flashes of memory that were returned to him.

The shrine was just as cold as the outside, but at least it was a shelter from the harsh mountain wind. Katsuki shivered as he wrapped his doublet around him tighter.

He took a deep breath as he placed the slate on the pedestal to unlock the last rune. He only spared a passing glance at the description. It seemed to make pillars of ice. The slate can create columns of ice from even the shallowest ponds. He tested it by making a few pillars form in the shallow water on the floor of the shrine. The columns seem to have more volume than the water from which they were produced. He pushed a thin layer of water onto a dry part of the shrine and the pillar still formed without seeming to decrease the volume of the water

Of all things, even more than the rune that converts all kinetic energy to potential energy and then releases it all at once, this one finally broke Katsuki's last remaining bits of composure. That's impossible. The slate is impossible. How had the ancient Sheikah invented it!? And how had they lost such tremendous power!?

Their empire is crumbling all around him. In the decaying husks of abbeys and rusty swords. In crumbling temples and overgrown roads.

He lay on the floor of the shrine clutching his head for a good hour or so before he threw himself back into the puzzle the shrine demanded. He suspected that these shrines were more of a test than anything else to get the user associated with the runes. Get some practice in. Training.

When he puts it like that, it seems a bit more reasonable to him. Maybe once long ago many young men and women traveled through this shrine and trained, like him. He's one in a long line of comrades who learned the technology of the Sheikah and used it. He can't help but imagine what that type of society would have looked like. Would they make a pilgrimage? What did their education consist of? Why aren't the shrines part of a bigger training complex? It's all underground- was the whole plateau once a huge facility and the elevators and upper shrines added later as years passed and the complex was buried? Or was the land around it purposely left untouched to preserve some natural beauty?

With that, Katsuki solved the few puzzles the shrine had to offer him. He quickly put up an ice pillar to block the sight of the little guardian who warded this shrine. He found a huge claymore in a chest when he climbed said pillar. He used the claymore to smash the guardian's head open. It exploded. He solved another puzzle, got another spirit orb, and returned to the surface.

The old man was tall like how a sunflower was tall- impressive at first glance, but thin and shaking upon closer inspection. His hair was once blond, but now only a pitiful grey. The clothing he wore might have once been fine, but it was patched rags faded to a washed out color akin to years in the dirt. His eyes were sunken in, his face gaunt with starvation. He shook in the cold like a leaf in the wind. Bone-thin fingers clutched his walking stick.

Despite all this, his stance was firm, his eyes hardened. He nodded to Katsuki in greeting as he stepped out of the shrine.

"I should explain." He begins, and Katsuki cuts him off with a roll of his eyes and crossing his arms.

"I want to explain," He tries instead, and Katsuki keeps his arms crossed. "I… I didn't want to test your memories while your mind was still fragile. Clearly that was a mistake. Treating you like a stranger was a mistake."

He reached out a hand.

It turned transparent, a sickly green color blowing away in the wind. Katsuki half jumps in surprise.

"Ah, I thought I was stronger here. I suppose not." The man coughed as the cold and dry air crept up Katsuki's legs and down his throat. "The temple, go there. I'll be…"

He faded before Katsuki's eyes. Completely blown away by the wind.

In the distance, the ruins of the Temple of Time glinted in the late-morning sun.

The statue in the ruined temple sat untouched by time. Around it lay the ruins of a battle fought so long ago, and yet it seemed to sit pristine in its slowly collapsing shelter. Like a finely cut jewel in the mud, it gleamed out of the corner of Katsuki's eye.

Obviously the centerpiece of some religion unknown to Katsuki, in the middle of this plateau. Untouched by the remains of the battle around it.

It had six arms, each hand carved into a different gesture. The forwardmost of the arms were clasped in prayer. If Katsuki had been familiar with a land called Earth, he would have compared the pose to a Buddha. But as this is not Earth, this land is Hyrule, he instead just admired the white polished marble that had stood the test of time.

Its face was a calm smile, its eyes closed. Soft features, a short neck and a sloped nose.

Katsuki didn't know the rites or customs of this world that sat in ruin around him. He had no memories of its name. Every action he did was driven solely by muscle memory or instructions.

He let muscle memory take over. An apple was placed on the altar of the god. He clasped his hands in prayer, bowed his head in respect, tried to school his face into something that wasn't a hardened squint.

Something moved.

Katsuki realized it wasn't him that moved; but rather something inside him.

The spirit orbs in his chest, the space behind his heart, shifted and danced in his ribcage. He clutched a hand to his chest, gasping for breath as they slowly dissipated into the air, invisible but fleeting all the same.

Like how the old man disappeared in front of his eyes.

The god-statue smiled upon him. He fell to his knees. All at once, it didn't feel empty anymore- Nor did he feel any semblance of grief. Not under the shadow of this ruined temple. It felt more like letting water drip through his fingers, letting it join a stream.

He brought those souls of the monks home.

Those monks hidden away in those shrines for so long- the air stale and empty. Were they only waiting for him? Would anyone who had the ability to unlock the shrines be able to retrieve them? If anyone could pass their tests, could they have brought their spirits home to this smiling god?

Would it have been anyone, given the chance?

Or did it have to be Katsuki?

The slate on his belt felt less like a tool and more like a shackle.

"Young Katsuki, are you alright?"

Katsuki froze, and slowly turned his head. A gasp escaped his throat.

No longer was the old man dressed in rags nor as skinny as a twig. His gaunt face was filled out, features sharp and hair thick. He was huge, his shoulders as wide and his calves thick. His robes were tailor made, tiny numerous stitches and fine heavy fabric.

He was a ghost. Entirely transparent. A golden crown adorned his head.

Yagi Toshinori bowed his head upon taking in Katsuki's shock.

"Let me tell you a story. One of this broken kingdom, nearly a hundred years ago."

The long-dead-king, Yagi Toshinori, told his tale.

Of a Prince who could not use his power by birthright, of a kingdom that weighed heavily on his shoulders.

Of a Queen who died far too young.

Of an ancient technology and a prophecy that combined in the guardians being unearthed.

Of a kingdom destroyed, champions killed, civilians slaughtered. Weapons turned against the populace not by people, but by an ancient evil far older than memory holds.

Of a failed duty and finally, finally, when all hope was lost, One for All finally awakened.

And it was far too late for the Prince's beloved knight.

It was a sad tale.

"Do you remember what I said to you after you tried to steal my paraglider, young Katsuki?"

Katsuki didn't even think. His hands formed the words, as if he had signed them a thousand times before.

"Promises must not be broken." Katsuki wanted to fall to his knees. He wanted to scream. There were so many thoughts swirling around his head, and try as he might he could not make sense of a single one, or remember a face or single voice. It all merged together into one big massive wave of a headache, so he swallowed, and shoved it down where it could not harm him.

"That's right," The king murmured, turning his muscular form towards the castle, watching the black miamsa rise and fall in gentle waves. "A long time ago, I made a promise to my son, and I failed to uphold it. I died here, all alone on this Great Plateau, unable to assist him."

The king turned back to look at Katsuki, eyes glistening with tears. "I have no right to ask you of this. I am nothing but a failure of a father who could not assist his own son. But please,"

Yagi Toshinori fell to the floor of the rotten temple, and were it not for his ghostly form Katsuki would have caught him. He passed right through his fingertips, like the wind. The king bent into a bow, a plea and a beg.

"Save my son, Katsuki. Help him kill All for One."

Katsuki could leave the plateau now. The paraglider was clutched in his hands.

He stood on the retaining wall that kept the plateau separate from the rest of the world. Far below, a forest spread out for ages before stretching into a grassland. A few horses dotted the treeline.

Far, far away, a prince kept back a force so powerful it had destroyed this kingdom entirely a century ago. A prince Katsuki knew. A prince that needed saving.

He took a deep breath, and leapt off the plateau, and into the unknown world below him.

In case it wasn't obvious Katsuki's brain is like. Super fucked up. Trying to convey that in a way that makes sense narratively is difficult for me, since I've played BOTW so many times so I have a clear picture of what I *want* the characters to do. But I overemphasis the scenery and what Katsuki must be thinking. I'm trying to explain my own thoughts and feelings I get while playing BOTW while still trying to hold true to what Katsuki must be thinking. Its a hard battle. I got so frustrated I played a different game for 9 months. I'll try to not let that happen again.

Its going to be interesting soon. Katsuki has to head to Kakariko Village now, but he'll meet a few more familiar faces along the way. These are the chapters I was most excited to write, so hopefully you guys will like them a lot.