A/N: See end of chapter for content warning. (It's probably okay but better safe than sorry.)
Chapter 10
There was turmoil inside. Green could feel it—had felt it—practically since the group set out that morning. He'd been able to ignore the feeling for the most part. It had nothing to do with him. It was just the others being disagreeable as usual.
But when Red burst into the forefront sobbing, it became clear that wasn't the case. "Blue's mad at me and Vio because Vio turned day to night and I supported it. But that's not wrong, right? It's not like it's going to be night forever. It'll be like outside. Light half the time and dark the other half."
"What are you talking about?" Green murmured, brow furrowed as he scanned the edges of camp for threats. There was no use grabbing their journal. The others were asleep anyway. So long as he spoke quietly, no one would hear him.
"Shadow—"
"Shut up." The words tumbled from his mouth without his volition.
"W-what?" Tears burned the backs of his eyes and tightened his throat.
"I don't…" Green drew in a shaky breath. What was wrong with him? Why was he snapping at Red? "I don't want to hear about him."
"Why? Green, he's not bad. I know Blue thinks he is, but he's wrong! Shadow's—"
"Dead," Green finished for him. Shadow was dead, and it would stay that way forever because that was what dead meant.
"But that's the thing!" Red exclaimed with far too much joy. "He isn't."
"Shut up!" Green hissed, clapping his hands over his ears as if that would stop the voices inside. "Shut up, shut up, shut up!" If he chanted it enough, he could almost drown out Red's words. He almost couldn't hear when they transformed into pleading cries, then sobs.
Green found he didn't care. The flood of tears so strong they were leaking from his own eyes meant Red couldn't talk, and if he couldn't talk then Green didn't have to hear about that which did not exist.
His conscience screamed at him that he was wrong wrong wrong! Red had been upset from the beginning, and Green was supposed to fix it. To reassure his brother that he'd done the right thing, that Blue was being difficult as usual and would get over himself eventually.
Except Green wasn't convinced Blue's actions were unwarranted. Vio shouldn't be messing with anything in their head. The inside world was new and strange enough. Manipulating it could only lead to disaster. Who was to say the change of day to night wasn't leeching all traces of positivity from him? After all, Green knew himself, and he normally wouldn't be so cruel to Red. That was Blue's department.
Were these Blue's feelings numbing him to Red's pain? Did Green even have feelings of his own anymore? The tears pouring down his face and the sob threatening to tear through his clamped teeth were certainly Red's, not his. He wasn't sad; he was angry.
…Or was he?
Was anything truly his, or was he just a shell to be constantly refilled and emptied of whatever emotions his brothers felt?
Green didn't know, and the not knowing punched a hole through his racing heart.
A sharp snap spun Green around, hand shooting to his sword. Only the crackling campfire greeted him, throwing lengthy shadows across the sleeping heroes. He swept his gaze around the campsite before releasing a shaky breath and turning back around. It had only been a log falling in the fire. Nothing more, nothing less.
For now.
The scare served as a much needed reminder: this was no time for a mental breakdown. Green shook himself, dashing the tears from his eyes. He was supposed to be on watch. He couldn't do that with blurry vision.
They had been forced to make camp in the middle of Twilight's Hyrule Field. Watch was always important, but it was doubly so whenever they camped out in the open. One would think tree cover would be more dangerous but the group of goddess chosen heroes had learned skeletal enemies were especially prominent in wide open areas. There was plenty of ground to sprout from and rarely any warning. Green had a duty to remain vigilant.
Yet, doing so proved to be incredibly difficult with his mind in such disarray. A distraction. He needed a distraction, something to keep him awake and alert and not drifting into his own thoughts.
He cast his gaze around, zeroing in on the pile of weapons to his left. That's right. He'd collected the others' gear earlier or…Red had or…someone had. In any case, they were there and ready for maintenance. Minus the Master Sword, of course. Strangely enough, the blade seemed to take care of itself. Or maybe Sky was sharpening and polishing it when he wasn't aware. It didn't matter. Everyone else's swords and shields provided plenty of work for him.
Green grabbed the nearest sword, Hyrule's, and began inspecting it. The blade didn't appear to be in need of sharpening. Maybe someone had sharpened it earlier? That was good. Everyone was sleeping—for once—and he'd rather not wake anybody, especially the lighter sleepers of the group. They needed their rest.
The White Sword, while sharp, could definitely do with a good cleaning. A quick glance at the rest of the weapons confirmed much the same. This black blood did not do wonders for metal. Satisfied that he had a quiet task to complete, Green set the sword aside and rummaged through his bag for the special cloths, oils, and waxes he always used for sword polishing.
With all his supplies laid out within easy reach and his lantern flickering beside him, Green began. The rhythm of cleaning was easy, familiar. It hardly required a conscious thought. Yet, even as the tension gradually drained from his shoulders, Green made sure to keep his ears perked for any unusual noises. Nothing was sneaking past his watch.
He'd finished polishing three swords and just barely started on Time's shield when his vision began to blur. He blinked furiously to clear it but that only seemed to make it worse.
He scarcely had time to think, "Not now" before a phantom hand fisted in his tunic and yanked backwards.
Shadow bolted upright, unpleasantness churning in his midsection and something banging in his chest. The ka-thumping creature, his brain supplied. And if that was back then…
He locked gazes with Link and jumped, only the weight across his legs—the mirror—was too heavy, too balanced, to fall with his movement, so he was left staring at a terrified face that was not his own.
Shadow slapped a hand that was not his over the reflection as the ka-thumping creature ka-thumped away inside him. Faster, more frantic. It needed to get out. Just like Shadow needed to get out.
He whipped his head up and around to find an escape route. He was bad. Vio had said so. And now the other heroes were going to punish him for hurting Blue even though he hadn't meant to. Blue just kept shouting and attacking him, and he didn't know how to make him stop.
But that didn't matter. Shadow was supposed to be good now, but he was bad—always bad—and now the heroes were…dead?
Shadow took in the inert forms surrounding the glaring fire. They were the same heroes as before. He could tell by all the pale skin and blond hair. But whereas last time they were animated and sword-wielding, now they were still.
He watched with bated breath for movement. Flickers caught his eye, the rise and fall of a chest here, hair teased by an exhale there. They weren't dead.
They were sleeping.
Slowly, ever so slowly, Shadow slid the mirror off of his lap, resisting the urge to throw it. Never once did he let his eyes stray from the snoring heroes. Sleep meant they could wake, and if they woke…
Shadow didn't want to think about what would happen to him. Best to escape before then. Maybe it was cowardly of him. Then again, Shadow had never boasted about being brave.
Careful not to make a sound, Shadow stepped over the mirror and array of other objects strewn across the ground. The way forward was clear. There were no obstructions, just dirt and grass. Yet Shadow forced himself to walk, stealing glances behind him every few seconds to ensure no one had awoken. Hylians had sensitive ears. If he ran, someone would hear. His escape would be foiled before it even began, so he walked.
He walked, and the pounding, crashing, banging creature was so loud that Shadow feared it would alert the heroes. Any second they would spring into action with blades in their hands and battle-cries on their lips. But every time he checked on the steadily shrinking camp, no shapes had moved.
Once the light of the fire had narrowed to a mere pinprick on the horizon, Shadow gave in to the buzzing urge creeping up his arms and legs and ran. He ran and ran and ran and didn't care that the creature in his chest got louder and louder, matching his desperation with its own.
It was almost a comfort that he wasn't alone. That he had a right to be scared because the creature inside of him was scared too.
Only when the creature began to take over every fiber of his being did Shadow begin to resent it. He could feel it, not just in his chest or his head, but everywhere. It pulsed in every fingertip, in every facet of his face, in every footfall. The more he ran the worse it became, but Shadow could not stop. If he stopped, the heroes would catch him. He would die again and again and again, and Shadow did not want to hurt. Not like that. Never again.
But the banging creature had a different agenda. It was not on his side, as he first thought. Perhaps it had been placed inside him by the heroes to prevent his escape. As he ran and the creature pulsed and banged and pounded and threatened to burst out of his throat, Shadow became certain that was the case.
His vision swam, and he stumbled, knees hitting the dirt and hands just barely stopping him from face-planting. He quickly wrapped them around his aching middle. His insides were twisting together like Ropes, hissing and slithering and then, likes Ropes do, they charged. Straight up, through his chest, and out of his mouth.
They tasted awful and lit his throat on fire, bringing hot liquid to the corners of his eyes. His stomach convulsed of its own accord, and Shadow clutched it tighter, willing it to stop. It didn't.
The ka-thumping creature persisted despite having just ejected itself. It shook his entire body and leapt out of his mouth again. Shadow screwed his eyes shut, choking on the foul taste and silently begging it to stop. To just leave already. To let him go back to his cave and his dragon and the forever dark.
The creature—creatures? He must have coughed out three of them by now—refused. It continued to bang around his insides and make him gag on nothing as it almost didn't quite escape.
After another round or two of false alarms, the creature settled in his chest again, only slightly less frantic than before. But it returned command of his limbs to him so Shadow couldn't complain too much.
He shuddered, gasping for breath and lifting shaky hands to wipe the water from his face. He had to get up. There was no telling when the heroes would wake. When they would start hunting him.
Swallowing thickly and wrinkling his nose at the putrid taste, Shadow struggled to standing. His legs had been reduced to some gelatinous monster. Definitely not supportive in anyway. But he had to try.
Shadow began to run again, only to stumble on the second step. He caught himself before he could fall. The ka-thumping creature, thankfully, stayed in his chest, but Shadow didn't count that as a victory. He needed to move. Fast.
Except moving quickly wasn't an option. Whatever the banging creature had purged from inside him had sapped his energy. Shadow growled. He didn't have time to replenish it! Glancing at the sky, Shadow noted it was lighter than before, the silver disc lower. In a few hours the heroes would be the least of his worries. He needed to find cover before then.
Resigning himself to a snail's pace, Shadow began to shuffle forward. There were a line of leafy trees on the horizon. If he reached them, they would provide ample cover.
Destination decided, Shadow trudged on. To his relief, the banging creature banged less and less over time. His legs even began to feel more like his own, and Shadow tested out a quick jog. Whatever was inside him pounded louder when he did that, so Shadow returned to a more leisurely pace before long. He couldn't risk a full stop again. Not with the sky lightening so much.
However, even if he were to run, Shadow realized he wouldn't make it to the woods. The field was too vast. He needed a new plan or else he would burn. Burning was better than dying, he'd admit, but it still wasn't pleasant.
Intent on avoiding the experience, Shadow cast his gaze around for anything that could provide shade. There were a few lines of fences but their slats were thin and gaps wide. No good to him. However, there was a single tree in the distance. It was rather far, but it was much closer than the woods. He could probably make it.
Breaking into a sprint, Shadow raced for his salvation. All the while, the ka-thumping creature grew more and more agitated. He did his best to ignore it, and when it began to leap into his throat again he silently begged it to wait. Wait just a meter more, a minute more, a footfall more. To his astonishment, it listened. But just barely.
He collapsed at the base of the tree, gasping and gagging as his mid-section pulsed again. Nothing came out, though. That was an improvement, right?
Once the creature inside him backed off, Shadow attempted to slip into the tree's shadow. It would serve as both cover and a hiding place from the heroes until nightfall.
But it didn't work.
He was powerless. The creature pounded extra hard at that revelation as if sympathizing. Or maybe gloating.
Shadow didn't understand. His powers were always with him. He'd just used them earlier to defend himself from Blue when he and Vio—
That's right. When he came back to the cave, Vio had said lots of things that didn't make sense. He said they shared a body even when they didn't but…
Shadow raised a hand to inspect it. It wasn't his. The skin was far too pale, the nails too short. Faint blue lines splayed across the back like a Skulltula web. Strange. Unfamiliar. Yet he couldn't sense any magic being used. He couldn't slip it off like a second skin because it wasn't. Was this what Vio had meant?
Shadow let the hand fall and snapped his gaze away. He didn't like it. Whatever this was. The pounding, banging creature was too loud, and he had no magic, so he couldn't hide or fight. He couldn't even flee properly! His not-body simply wouldn't cooperate.
A low whine startled him, and Shadow whipped around to come face-to-face with a Wolfos. He stared into the monster's piercing cerulean eyes, shocked at its presence. How had it snuck up on him? And what was up with its eyes? Normally Wolfos had red eyes. Maybe it wasn't a Wolfos then? Just a regular wolf? But animals typically ran from him, and this one didn't. It simply stared back.
And whined. Did it want something? If it wanted food, surely it would try to eat him or at least sniff his hands for something edible. But it didn't do that, just stared and made that pitiful sound. So what did it want? A greeting? Acknowledgement?
"…Hi." The word rasped out of his throat in a barely audible whisper. It hurt.
His efforts didn't even seem to be worth it because the animal only whined again.
"Don' know what you want," he mumbled, coughing when the sentence strained his throat.
The wolf stepped forward and nosed his hand. He opened his palm to show it he had no food, but the animal must have been especially dumb because it kept pushing its wet nose into his hand. He retracted it in annoyance, shaking off the wetness.
"No food," Shadow grumbled. This gave the animal pause. It tilted its head to the side as if confused but quickly returned to nuzzling his hand, all but forcing him to rub its head. Shadow humored it and that seemed to satisfy the beast because once he stopped, it turned tail and began to trot away.
Shadow would have thought that was that if the wolf hadn't halted in its tracks and looked back at him expectantly. Now it was his turn to tilt his head in confusion. What did it want now?
The wolf, determined to make its intentions known, trotted back over and gently grabbed his sleeve in its teeth, tugging just hard enough to move his immobile arm. The message was clear. Come with me. But Shadow couldn't. The sun was coming up and besides that, the direction the wolf was pulling him in was the direction he'd come from. It was the direction of the heroes. Of hurt.
Shadow snatched his limb back and shook his head furiously.
The wolf sat back on its haunches and tilted its head. I'm listening, it seemed to be saying which was ridiculous because animals weren't that sentient. Yet looking over the wolf, sitting and watching him with intelligence uncharacteristic of such beasts, Shadow found a reason to trust it.
"You're like me," he said slowly, eyes on the shackle and chain clamped around the wolf's left foreleg. "You escaped from the bad people that hurt you. If you go back, you'll get hurt again or maybe killed. If I go back, I will too."
"That's why I can't go with you. Not that way." He pointed at the woods in the distance. "I need to go there." He huffed, glaring at the lightening sky. "But I can't right now."
The animal looked even more confused now than it had when Shadow told it he didn't have any food. Well, it was a beast. He never really expected it to understand. He redirected his gaze to the grass beside him, thinking. If he couldn't phase into the shadows like usual then he needed a new hiding place. He was too vulnerable like this. It wouldn't be pleasant—nothing in this place was—but…maybe he should deal with the burning so he could get to the forest and hide there. The heroes couldn't find him easily then.
Weight dropping onto his legs jerked Shadow out of his thoughts. He blinked dumbly at the furry animal sprawled across his lap. Was it…staying with him? Why? Cautiously, Shadow laid a hand on its back. The wolf made no effort to move.
"Are you…going to protect me?" Shadow asked with vague hope. The wolf huffed in response, but its refusal to move was good enough for him. Maybe the animal had understood Shadow's words more than he initially thought it had. He allowed a tiny smile to grace his lips. Now he didn't have to find a new hiding spot. He had a wolf to defend him. Maybe not as good as a wolfos. But good enough.
As Shadow soon found out, wolves weren't great company. All their fur made them almost unbearably warm and they smelled pretty awful too. Wolves also couldn't talk, but even if they could, Shadow's throat hurt too much for conversation.
So he sat in silence, squinting in the morning light and idly rubbing his hands over black-grey fur until he couldn't feel it anymore. He could see the hands that weren't his on it but he couldn't feel it. Even the pounding, banging creature was muted. Still there—always there—but less intense. Shadow couldn't help, but be frightened by it, to fidget and clench the fur in fingers that weren't his. Anything to reassure himself he wasn't dying all over again. He wasn't a ghost. He could touch things, influence them.
He saw more than felt the wolf shift, disturbed by his agitation. He didn't want the wolf to leave. Shadow buried his face in the fur, desperate to feel something. A faint tickle on his cheek was his only reward.
His eyelids grew heavy and fatigue weighed down his limbs. Maybe that was why he didn't feel right. He'd pushed too much. Even the ka-thumping creature was tired.
A tiny nap. Shadow decided. He could afford that much. If something happened, the wolf would wake him. Unlike the pounding creature inside, the wolf was a friend. It was safe. Like the cave. Like his dragon. Like Vio. With this knowledge in mind, Shadow let his eyes fall shut and succumbed to sleep.
Fuzzy warmth struck him full in the face, and Green basked in it for a minute or seven before the taste of bile on his tongue and the hammer banging in his skull ruined it. He sat upright, vertigo making his vision spin and his stomach churn.
Green dropped his head into his hands, fighting the urge to puke. If the taste in his mouth was any indication, he had already. When and why he couldn't say. Were they sick? He felt sick. But switching could make him feel sick even when he wasn't, so he couldn't be certain. Not until he gathered himself enough to figure out where they were and what they were supposed to be doing.
He massaged his aching head, taking deep, grounding breaths to hopefully settle his stomach and himself in the body. Ugh, he really needed this taste out of his mouth. Dropping his hands, Green reached for his bag, only to realize it wasn't there. Not on his person as per usual or even beside him. Now that he took a moment to assess his surroundings, Green realized he wasn't at camp. That wouldn't have been so strange had he been in the company of his fellow heroes but he wasn't.
He was alone.
Well, almost. The weight draped over his legs that he'd taken for a blanket was really a wolf. Wolfie. The Hero of Twilight.
"Twi?" Green croaked. He winced at the rawness of his throat. "Where…what?" Something was wrong. He always had his bag and weapons on him, but he didn't now. The familiar weight on his back was absent. He didn't recognize where he was. Did they switch eras? How did he get here? Why was it daybreak? Wasn't it just night? He didn't remember falling asleep. Even then it…
didn't
make
sense.
The weight lifted and Twi's voice followed soon after, floating into his cotton-stuffed ears. "Four? Are you with me?"
Yes. No. "Kinda," he mumbled, rubbing his face and barely feeling the roughness of his palms. He was so tired. Did they sleep at all last night?
"Do you…ter?"
"Hmm?"
He could sense Twilight shift and though it took a gargantuan effort, he raised his head. Twi held out a waterskin to him. Oh. A drink. Yes. He wanted one, but his hand was moving in slow motion. He furrowed his brow. Why couldn't it move faster? His mouth was so dry.
After a century Green finally managed to grasp the waterskin and bring it to his lips. The water was warm but felt amazing on his parched throat nonetheless. The refreshment chased away the fuzziness on the edges of his vision and the phantom hands cupping his ears, too. Another few sips, and he felt confident enough to speak without tripping over his tongue.
Green locked eyes with the man crouched in front of him. "What happened?"
The pelt-wearing hero's concerned expression turned sheepish. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "I was hoping you could tell me that."
His heart lurched and the panic must have shown on his face because Twilight hurried to reassure him. "Hey, hey, it's okay. Just tell me the last thing you remember."
"I was…" He bit his lip, gaze drifting to the side in thought. What was he doing? "Watch," he recalled. "I was on watch. And...and I was cleaning everyone's weapons. I finished a few of them, and then…" He fidgeted with the waterskin, frowned at the grass and the feel of rough bark at his back. "I-I don't know."
"You must have switched with someone then, huh?" Twilight suggested, gently.
Numbly, Green nodded.
The pelt-wearing hero hummed. "I take it you don't know who you switched with?"
He opened his mouth, wanting to deny it. But of course he couldn't. Just as Twilight suspected, Green had no idea.
That isn't so alarming, he tried to reassure himself even as his chest tightened. Gaps in memory between switches weren't uncommon. He should know. He'd lived with it for years. This was nothing new, so why was he so afraid?
Green wrapped his arms around himself to ward off the chill slithering up his spine.
"That's okay," Twilight said but the way he said it made Green positive it wasn't.
He shook his head stiffly. "It's not. Who was just out?"
A regretful expression crossed Twilight's face. "I'm sorry. I have no idea."
"You must have a guess," Green insisted. They all had their own mannerisms. Not just in the way they spoke but in the way they held the body and expressed themselves. Whoever had been out had to do something to tip Twilight off. The Ordonian was one of the most observant heroes. He had to have caught it.
Twilight sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I really don't. Whoever it was didn't seem to recognize me. He said some strange things, too. Something about being hurt or killed if he went back? He never said where 'back' was. I assume he meant camp, but I'm not sure. Does that ring any bells for you?"
It rang too many. In fact, Green swore he could feel the hollow chimes reverberating through his chest just like they did when he was eleven and racing to save his best friend from an evil wind mage.
Only this time, he was the one in danger.
Twi's description didn't match any of his brothers. They all knew Twi was Wolfie, and none of them had any reason to fear camp. Camp was a place their brothers in arms and in spirit resided. It was safe. He'd never think of it as anything else. Neither would Red or Blue or Vio, which only left one option.
Shadow.
He'd denied it and denied it, writing it off as nothing but a nightmare bred of Vio's desperation to see his lost friend again. But now it was all too clear that he was real. Shadow was real. He existed. Never mind the fact that Shadow died. Never mind the fact that the Four Sword had split him into four people, not five. Never mind that he didn't want him here.
Shadow was here, and Green couldn't do anything about it. He couldn't even access the middle of the inside world, much less the deeper parts, which, according to Vio, was where Shadow resided. There was no way for Green to order him to stop. Stop taking control of the body. Stop saying weird things. Stop making him look like he was going insane.
Maybe he was insane.
But that couldn't be!
Green was the leader. He was supposed to protect everyone. It was his job to figure this out, to make it right. But he couldn't do any of that if he was losing his mind. Was it even his mind? Had it ever truly belonged to him? He didn't know. He didn't know he didn't knowhedidn'tkNoWhHeDiDN't—!
Heat cupping his frigid fingers alerted him to the fact that he was trembling. Twi's worried face swam into view.
"Look at me," His words sounded muffled, like Green was hearing them from underwater. "You're alright."
Green begged to differ. Shadow had taken over, and he could take over again. In fact, Green was sure he was trying to force him out of the body right now because Twilight's face was blurry and refused to focus no matter how much he blinked.
Shadow was going to take his sight from him, then his body and then his will. His mind too.
And there wasn't a thing Green could do about it.
The revelation sent his heart into his throat, and he choked on a sob.
"I d-don't know what's—what's happening." His voice sounded distant and far away.
Twilight's wasn't much better. In fact, Green only knew the rancher was talking because he could feel the vibration from his chest as the man hugged him to his side.
But soon even that certainty fled. Between his buzzing limbs and hitching breaths, Green couldn't be sure who the movement belonged to. Twilight may have been talking, or he may have been silent, or he may not have been there at all.
He didn't know.
The not-knowing should have been disconcerting. After all, uncertainty meant unknown, and unknown meant danger.
Yet, he didn't feel afraid. He didn't feel anything, actually. Not in his body (did he have one?). Or his mind. Or even his heart.
Was he awake? Asleep? Alive? Dead? Those words—life and death—seemed important, but he couldn't place why.
One meant fear and the other meant…well, he didn't know.
But that was okay. He didn't need to know. No one knew everything, and he didn't know anything.
He would have been content to continue not knowing anything, too, if it hadn't been for the man that appeared in front of him. His face was tense, pinched in a way that meant something was wrong.
Despite not knowing the problem and not really knowing the person either, he found that he wanted to help. Of course, to do that, he had to know things, and to know things, he had to listen.
So, against his better judgement, he focused. He focused on the young man with the worried face and moving mouth. Took in his facial tattoos and dirty-blonde hair, and sun-tanned skin, and piercing blue eyes until they started to look a little less dream-like. Until a word popped into his head.
Twilight.
And then the feelings rushed in, burrowing into his heart and making him aware of its erratic beat. Wave after wave of fear crashed over his head until he was certain he would drown. He gasped for breath. For air. For life.
Only for an anchor to materialize in the form of a callused hand. It squeezed his, and he squeezed back, hoping it would pull him out of the ocean. Out of feeling.
It seemed to do the opposite. A soft voice traced the edges of his water-clogged ears, asking for entry. But there would be none. His ears rang like a bell—an omen of doom. A deep DONG DONG DONG that rattled him to his core.
However, the voice persisted. The soothing tones continued to caress his ears until one syllable, then two, then three, then four penetrated the ringing.
Until he could hear words, promises that he was alright. He was safe. Everything was okay. Could he name something he sees? Something he hears? No? Could he squeeze back? He tried and that was good. Concentrate on that.
For a while, he did. He focused on the rough feeling of sandpaper on his palm. On soft pressure and the returning of it. A back and forth conversation consisting entirely of hand muscles expanding and contracting.
Gradually, the knot in his chest began to loosen. He couldn't remember why it had formed in the first place. He didn't want to remember, either. Yet something clawed at the edges of his consciousness, threatening to force its way in and remind him.
Feeling was dangerous. Thinking was dangerous. So he didn't think and he didn't feel. He did what the blurry man told him too. He squeezed his hand. He looked at the grassy ground and at the streaky sky of indigo, pink, and gold. He looked at a fallen leaf beside him and at their clasped hands. He took a sip of tasteless liquid and washed away the last of the panic stuck in his throat.
So long as he didn't think, didn't lean too far into sensation, he was safe.
But as with all spells, this one, too, broke. Not entirely, but just enough for a sliver of guilt to creep in.
"Sorry," he heard, belatedly realizing the voice was his own. It didn't sound like his. The tone was emotionless, detached. Not at all what it should be.
The man—Twilight, his brain lethargically supplied—didn't make any indication of noticing. He smiled kindly. "It's okay. There's nothing to apologize for. Are you feeling better now?"
Lips stretched across teeth in a shoddy imitation of Twilight's own expression. "Yes." That was a lie. He wasn't. He couldn't feel anything. Not Twilight's hand in his or the pelt that had somehow found its way across his shoulders. "Thank you."
"Of course. Anytime. Do you want to talk about it or…?"
Someone shook his head for him; it was a sharp motion—left—right. "I'm fine."
Twilight didn't look entirely convinced. "Are you sure?"
"Yes, can we go to camp now?" He was supposed to be at camp. He needed to be there. Why wasn't he there?
"Uh, yeah, if you're ready."
Twilight stood, and he followed. His legs protested having to support him but the aches were dull and easy to ignore.
"Camp's this way," Twilight said when he turned in the wrong direction.
"Oh. Sorry, I don't remember."
"That's okay." Twi squeezed his hand. Maybe. Unless that was a passing breeze tracing the back of his hand? Was there even a breeze? He eyed the leafy branches of the tree beside him. They wavered like water.
"I don't know where we are." He heard himself admit as they began to walk. His legs felt weird, like they were floating or not there at all.
"No worries," Twilight assured him. "We're still in my Hyrule's field."
"Okay." And it was okay. Because it had to be okay. Because Twilight kept saying 'okay', so it must have been. Twilight knew where they were so they couldn't be lost.
"We'll reach camp faster if I transform. Are you okay with that?"
His head slowly wobbled back and forth on his neck, and Twi's palm left his.
A swirl of blocky black obscured Twilight, and when it cleared, a wolf stood in Twi's place, eyeing him expectantly.
Feeling as if he were moving through water, he climbed onto the wolf's—man's?—wolf's back and watched as his hands buried themselves in thick, grey fur.
Then they were moving. A wave of vertigo made him go cross-eyed, but no matter how much he tilted to the side, he didn't fall. His grip must have been more solid than it felt.
Together, boy and wolf raced across Hyrule Field in the peachy light of dawn, one on four legs and one floating far, far away.
C/W: Description of character getting sick. (I tried to keep it vague but it's hard when the character getting sick has never experienced it before.) If reading about that stuff makes you feel sick, too, feel free to skip that section. It starts with the paragraph "His vision swam..." and ends with "Shadow began to run again".
YouTube Resource:
"What Does DISSOCIATIVE AMNESIA Look Like? | Dissociative Identity Disorder" –The Entropy System