A/N: Not many trigger warnings for this chapter except a little hero trauma and some creepy moments at the beginning and end. But nothing too major.

Perched serenely among the clouds, an ancient deity pondered. She did not understand how her plans had spun out of control so quickly. She had thought she'd done enough to keep her chosen one on the straight path, and keep that other one at bay, but apparently that wasn't the case.

But she didn't feel like the situation was unsalvageable just yet. She hadn't gotten things back on track so far, which was an annoyance, but not a disaster.

Her influence was strong. Her people were devoted. They all loved her. If push came to shove, they would listen to her over anyone else.

But she was sure that it wasn't going to come to that. It would just take one little push. She'd barely have to lift a finger.

Everything was going to work out just fine. There would be peace. There would be them.

"Ugh!" The moment the liquid hit Ghirahim's lips, his entire mouth felt as though it were shriveling in on itself like a dying plant. He swallows, with difficulty, and attempts to polish off the rest of the bottle quickly.

Link gives him a sympathetic look. "Yeah, potions taste gross, I know. Especially since this one has a bug in it."

Ghirahim chokes. "Excuse me," he spluttered. "I must not have heard you correctly, this has a what in it?"

"But, it's going to help you. It already is."

The Sky Child is, unfortunately, correct. Already his injured hand is hurting much less, and the wounds themselves seem to be fading right before his very eyes. That was great and all, but does it really have to taste so horrible?

Somehow, by some miracle, Ghirahim does manage to finish the potion. When he does, Link immediately sets to work bandaging the tiny remaining injuries on his fingertips. "Better?"

"Yes," Ghirahim replied, flexing his fingers and wincing slightly as the fabric of the bandages restricted the movements. That was going to be quite bothersome to deal with, but at least he wouldn't have to keep them on for long, given how much the disgusting potion had boosted the healing process. "Thank you."

Link nods, then yawns, as he begins putting the medical things away. Ghirahim yawns too.

The events of the day were really starting to take their tole on him, and Link, by the looks of it. The Sky Child was starting to move quite sluggishly. A thought popped into Ghirahim's head when he saw that, something about the boy's slower reaction times, but he was too tired to figure out what it meant. But there was still another thought, one that had been nagging at him for hours now. He was a little worried about the possible consequences of asking this question, but he knew he wouldn't be able to fully rest until he had. Best to do it now, before he got cold feet.

"Sky Child?"

"Yeah?"

"If memory serves, you mentioned earlier that… Fi… can only be wielded by the Chosen Hero."

Link nods, but an aura of anxiety and dread begins exuding from him. Clearly this is a touchy subject for him. But there was no going back now; Ghirahim would simply have to be prudent with the words he chose.

"So then, it can be safely assumed, that the Chosen Hero, is you."

Damn it, no, that sounded far too accusatory, what am I doing?

"Yes."

'But you're so young, you are just a child!' Was what Ghirahim wouldhave said, except he was determined to not put his foot into his mouth twice in one night. He may not remember the relevant experiences at this time, but he knows that exclamations of that sort are seldom received well. The Sky Child had probably heard that several times already, and, though he didn't recall ever seeing it first hand, Ghirahim could tell that Link was by no means incompetent in his role.

But that didn't mean being a hero at such a young age was good for Link. By the expression on his face at the moment, it had been the opposite.

And yet, it seemed that putting both feet into his mouth was simply something Ghirahim was destined to do.

"…My condolences."

The room fell silent.

Link stood still there, staring. Then, his shoulders began to convulse.

It took a moment for Ghirahim to realize: he was laughing.

"Oh my gods," the boy wheezed. He was practically doubled over in hysterics, not too differently than he had been that morning. "I-i can't believe you just said that."

"I can't believe I just said that," Ghirahim echoed, feeling an odd mixture of amusement and embarrassment. Their exhaustion was making them both silly. Though, it wasn't entirely unpleasant.

Link eventually got himself back under control, and the duo began getting ready for bed. But as Link was putting his pouch away, something that appeared to be made out of fabric seemed to be sticking from it. "Huh?" Both boys couldn't help but gasp when they realized what it was.

"My rug," Ghirahim breathed. "How did it get in there?"

"I don't know," Link replied, just as perplexed. "I didn't have time to grab it."

The rug was a chaotic patchwork of colors and textures. The only thing the least bit consistent about it were the diamonds. One big diamond made of several smaller ones, each a different color, size, and material. All of it was topped off by a silky golden trim, possibly the same material as Ghirahim's cape.

It was far from a conventional carpet design, that was for certain. And not all the fabrics exactly meshed well together. But it was his.

Gingerly, Ghirahim takes the rug, placing it down on the floor. "A question for tomorrow," he decides. He's too tired to think for long about how it had gotten in Link's pouch. He's just glad it was here.

"I don't know about you, but I am more than ready for this day to be over." Ghirahim feels too exhausted to go through the effort of removing his cape this time, so he just flops down on his rug. He immediately felt much more at home now that he was lying on it. "Good night."

Link gives him a slightly bewildered look, but Ghirahim ignores it. He barely registers a pillow being pushed beneath his head before he's dead to the world.

He finds himself back in the diamond meadow from his last dream. But this time, he is alone. Instantly, anxiety grips his heart.

He makes his way through the sparkling trees, and as he does, he notices how silent and still this place is. There's not a single living being except himself here, and no wind to jingle the gleaming leaves. It hadn't been apparent last time because the images and company served as a handy distraction from it all, but this time, there were none.

He wandered the vast, shiny expanse for an indeterminate amount of time; the kind of time passage in dreams where it feels like a few seconds and an eternity simultaneously. But eventually, he reaches his destination.

Ghirahim is both surprised, and not surprised, to find himself back in the clearing from before. But the area is completely barren. No tree, and no crazed doppelgänger. This does nothing to quell his anxiety. In fact, it does just the opposite.

Now that there's nothing to distract him, Ghirahim notices something else odd about this clearing. All other areas in this place had diamond patterns on the ground, but the clearing was completely blank. The ground was as smooth and unblemished as a sheet of glass, and it even appeared to be transparent. Yet Ghirahim could make nothing out through it except an endless, swirling fog. Maybe if he got closer, he'd be able to make something out?

Ghirahim kneels, holding his bangs away from his face and peering deeply into the glass-like ground. At first, he still sees nothing, but then something changes. The mist seems to be… darkening?

Suddenly, alarm bells begin going off in Ghirahim's mind. He is no longer alone. He tastes the air, but can sense no one but himself.

Ghirahim tries to stand, to move, but realizes that he can't. And then, before he can even process a single other thought, there is hot breath in his ear and a metallic, yet very familiar voice whispering: "Looking for something~?"