Chapter Nine:
Nothing

Ventus

The wooden sword in Ventus' hand felt heavy.

No matter how much he swung or hit it against the wooden post, he felt useless. The bruises the Gerudo inflicted on him were beginning to diminish in swelling and pain, but the shameful sting didn't leave his small, tired body.

It was his job to protect his mother and sister, but when the time came, he was useless. If Uncle Killian didn't come in and save him, he could have ended up like the rest of the warriors. What was more humiliating was that they didn't even consider him worth drawing their blade over.

Swinging the wooden sword hard at the wooden post, the impact rattled the weapon right out of his hand. Cursing under his breath, he nursed his bruised and blistered hand. Calluses had formed and his once soft hands were now rough like a true swordsman, but it didn't mean anything now. He was the only warrior left in the village, and he wasn't strong enough to fight even against one of those Gerudo bastards, let alone take down ten of them like Uncle Killian had.

Killian, the man who had looked after him in a way his own father hadn't in a long time. This thought caused fresh tears, ones he thought dried an hour ago, to come out in full force again. He thought he was done crying by now, but it seemed as of late a lot of his beliefs weren't exactly true.

Once more he saw Uncle Killian's head roll off his shoulders, his body slump to the ground, lifeless, and bile crept up his throat. Covering his mouth, he forced himself to swallow it down.

What did he need to do to become stronger? Strong enough to protect everyone?

He didn't know, and no answers came to him. They never did.

Bending down to pick up his sword again, he paused and looked behind him. The feeling of being watched plagued him a lot more recently since all the other warriors died; yet each time he looked, nobody was there. There were times he thought he heard something, but with no one there, he would push it from his mind. After all, when he complained to his mother once about it—before the attacks—she said it was nothing to be concerned over, reminding him they lived in a big city.

However, it wouldn't be the first time she lied to him in her desire to protect him from unpleasant things. Like the situation at Kakariko Village; he had heard that woman talk. What she said.

She had said his mother was Ceres Kali. He pressed his lips together, wondering why she would say such a thing. Ventus heard of Aliyah Kali of course, especially around the Day of Courage. It was something Dad always told them not to repeat at home, saying Mom was scared of ghost tales.

Now, Ventus wasn't so sure if that was the actual reason anymore.

Furrowing his brow, his eyes flitted over the now nearly desolate village. The adults were in a mix between grieving and arguing amongst themselves what they should do now with the Gerudo coming back in the next week or so to collect their harvest. Some wanted to take what they could carry and run, hope for the best. Others wanted to just give over the crop and hope the Gerudo left enough for them to survive the winter. He could hear the shouting even from where he stood.

"If we run, we're more likely to die!"

"It'll be a quicker death than if we just stayed here and starve! Do you honestly think the Gerudo will leave enough for all of us to last through the winter?!"

"At least staying will give us some chance for survival!"

Mother was the only one shouting for them to fight, to make a trap and kill them all when they returned. No one listened to her though, no matter how fervently she ranted and scratched insults into their prides.

Hearing grass crunch to his left, Ventus turned his head to see Rini approaching him—a dead look in her eyes. She hadn't stopped crying for hours after the execution of Uncle Killian and the other warriors. Mama had made them stay inside when they buried the bodies.

It's not like we didn't see them get killed or anything, he thought grimly, sniffing. Even now he could see their heads falling off their shoulders like they were never attached there in the first place. Once more, he wiped at his red eyes; he was the elder brother. He was supposed to be there for her when she cried, but how could he do that if he was crying himself?

"Ven," she whispered, stopping in front of him before looking at the golden fields. "Are we gonna die?"

It was a blunt question which took him by surprise for a moment. He never expected those words to leave his sister's mouth, but once he recovered, his answer left his lips without a second thought.

"Of course not," he answered automatically, turning around to Rini, who didn't look convinced. Frustrated by this, he grabbed a hold of her shoulders and stared right into her eyes, willing for her to believe him. He didn't seem to be having much luck though. That dead, exhausted look wouldn't leave her hazel eyes.

"How can you say that?" she asked. "The Gerudo killed Uncle Killian and all our warriors—"

"Excuse me—"

The insulted tone barely left his lips when Rini interjected harshly.

"You're not a warrior, Ven! You're just a kid with a wooden sword who doesn't know when to stay down!" Rini yelled, closing her eyes as hot tears began to leak down again. "Do you have any idea how scared I was that they were gonna kill you?! There's nothing bad about admitting when someone is stronger than you! Is being a warrior more important than me—or staying alive?"

Ven opened his mouth, not quite sure how to answer her at first before finding his voice.

"I did it to protect you and mum and everyone else!" he shot back hotly. How could she not see that? How could she say—to his face—that he wasn't a warrior? Hadn't he been humiliated by the Gerudo enough? Now his own sister, his own family, was throwing this in his face.

The weakness that got Uncle Killian killed.

"You only just started learning how to fight! You're not even grown up yet!" shouted Rini with no intention of stopping. "If Daddy and Killian got killed by them, what makes you so sure you can take them on?! It didn't feel like you were doing it for us; it was like you were doing it for you!"

He winced, her voice hurting his ears and her words, his heart. It wasn't like he didn't already know she was right deep down.

He knew he was weak. That he wasn't special.

Part of him was angry at his father. Maybe he wouldn't be so weak and useless—so common—if his father had only started training him sooner rather than be forced to wait. Not to mention, there should be no reason he had to wait until he was fifteen to spend actual father-son time with his own dad. He was the son of the captain of the royal guard—he should have had a head start in swordplay by now.

Especially, after all, Dad and his buddies were convinced Ganondorf betraying them wasn't an if but a when. If it had been so certain to them, why hadn't they started preparing him for it? Preparing for the worst and hoping for the best—didn't that make the most sense?

Still he couldn't let Rini have the last word. He couldn't let her drag him down; he couldn't let her desolation, everyone's desolation, drag him into the pits of despair. This battle may have been lost, but they were in a war.

"No, I did it because I have to," he said, searching for an explanation which would satisfy her and for a moment his mind returned to a time before bloodshed haunted his nightmares, to a game he would play all the time with his friends in Castle Town. "Because I'm the hero who's gonna save Hyrule."

Twilight was beginning to fall over the land. The days were already growing shorter, and it wouldn't be long before winter came.

Ventus stayed outside as long as he could. With each thrust he made with the wooden sword that Uncle Killian gave him, he could hear the man's voice in the back of his head, begging him to rest.

Just like in life, Ventus ignored him.

There was nobody to protect everyone now but him, and he hadn't even drawn the blood of one of those Gerudo. Unlike Uncle Killian, and certainly not like his father.

"Hah!" he yelled, before drawing back, gasping for breath, sweat dripping down his brow before his ears twitched, picking something up on the wind.

"I'm pissed off at you, Killian. For dying. I hope you know that."

Mom?

Shouldering his wooden sword, he turned toward the direction where he heard her voice. He couldn't see her yet. Continuing, he crept as silently as he could around the barn where Uncle Killian fought his last battle and peered toward the grove of trees where he was buried. There he saw his mother's long blonde hair floating in the wind as she stared off into the distance. He could feel a pair of eyes watching from over there, but for once they didn't seem to be looking in his direction.

"Goddesses...you should have gone back to your family," she choked, her head dipping down, and Ventus wondered if she was crying. "If you did… if you did …"

He clenched the side of the building as he watched her, guilt sweeping over him, understanding what his mother meant. Uncle Killian had stayed around because of them, hadn't he? Died to save them—to save Ventus. Uncle Killian's death was because of his own weakness.

"What am I supposed to tell Tori… Amaya?" Mom whispered. Then she suddenly lashed out in anger. "You and Kubera are so damn stupid!"

What she said next though threw Ventus for a loop.

"How," Mom snapped, seemingly glaring at an empty space. Ventus was suddenly reminded of Eli and how he would talk to nobody. His stomach twisted uncomfortably, and he stepped further back in the shadows, hiding more. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he could hear the cursed name of Kali escaping from the woman's lips. "I literally cannot hear you."

Has… has she gone mad too?

"You mean Eli," Mom continued on with a sigh. "He's a child."

Yup. Definitely gone insane.

Next thing was she was going to tell him that he was being rude by helpfully pointing out nobody was there. Although part of him wondered what happened to Eli and Leita. While he was less concerned with Eli, Leita would be sad if something happened to her brother. That and he could hear his father berating him in his head again for his treatment of the other boy, even if it was well deserved.

Also, he was the reason Eli's uncle was dead.

"... I understand," Mom continued on with her conversation with nobody. There was a long pause before she continued. "... Killian …" A stop. A pause. "Thank you. For everything that you ever did. I'm sorry."

That was when she began to cry.

"If—if only there was more time…"

She stood there, and he could hear her pained gasps on the wind. Unable to take a moment more of it, he turned around and walked away, feeling a pair of eyes following him all the way back to his house.

The eyes were still there when he returned, although his mother was not.

Looking around, he searched for signs of Uncle Killian on instinct, half hoping that maybe it wasn't true. That the man wasn't dead, but that was impossible. There was no bringing him back to life—Ventus wasn't a monster like Aliyah Kali. He wasn't.

There were some laws you just didn't break.

Still …

He wanted to see him one last time.

Then he felt the eyes again. He whipped toward the place he felt them, yet once again nothing was there yet a gaze bore right into him. He shivered, once more feeling uneasy, not liking this feeling of being watched. Being at a place where the dead were buried always scared him despite his Sheikah blood. Rini teased him for that when they were in Kakariko Village while playing with Leita and the other children.

"There's nobody there but the dead," his sister had scoffed when he told her about the feeling of being watched; suddenly his throat constricted painfully in his throat and he pushed back the pale blonde hair he inherited from his mother—painfully nearly white, but not quite—and looked at the empty space where the eyes seemed to originate from.

"Uncle Killian," he said softly. "If you're there... I'm sorry I got you killed. I thought … I tried …"

His voice broke off, not quite sure what he should say. His words were going nowhere, yet now they were tumbling out of him.

"I just wanted to—to be like you. Like Dad. Strong. What can I do to make things up to you, Uncle Killian? To Eli and Leita, and Uncle Tori and Auntie Amaya? They're probably waiting for you somewhere to return, and I took you away from them. How—how do you make that right?"

His eyes drifted downward.

"Can you make that right? I was so happy when you decided to stay … You made my mom happy too. Even though my dad was gone, at least I still had you. Was I being selfish?"

Tears began to pour out of his eyes, and he fruitlessly tried wiping them away, turning his head up to the gray sky briefly, swallowing. More tears just took their place.

"Uncle Killian, I want t-to see you again. I want to tell you how sorry I am, and how much I love you, and how I'm g-gonna miss you—and that I'll do better. But you're dead, and you can't speak to the dead unless you are a Sheikah I heard. And I don't know what to do to do so."

Sobbing overtaking him once more, he bent down and wrapped his arms around his knees, the trees bending sadly in the wind.

"I'm sorry," he choked. "I'm so sorry."

In the end, despite the shouting and arguing, nobody did anything to stop the Gerudo from taking their crops.

Some left, refusing to bend to the Gerudo and leave their lives up to fate, but aside from a small portion of rations they were also leaving the food in the village storages. A few even tried to set fire to the fields and the crop, declaring it was better to die sooner of starvation than later, and if they couldn't eat, neither could the Gerudo. They were stopped before they could get too far though—the instinct to survive overrode spite in the end it seemed.

"Fools. All of them," Mom had muttered, holding Ven and Rini's hand, as the latest attempted arsonist was dragged forward to the town center. He was an unkempt fellow, his brown hair greasy and dirty, his clothes more dirt than cloth.

Ventus had remembered him from Uncle Killian's lessons; his name was Roy and was somewhere in his thirties. He had initially tried to join the guard when he was fifteen, before the Gerudo War. However, for some reason, he was discharged before his career as a guard could even begin.

He was the only one who came close to Ventus in obsession in learning the sword, an attempt to make up for lost time the Hylian child could empathize with.

"Cowards! Don't you see?! We're all dead anyway!" Roy had howled with a screech. "If we are gonna die, let's not die slowly like complacent lambs but proudly! We are the Goddesses' chosen race! Who are we to cower before desert rats?!"

There was some murmuring from the crowd, but nobody stepped forward to add their voices to Roy as the man was forced onto the platform in the town square. Nobody wanted to meet his fate next.

"Listen up!" the mayor—a portly woman with blonde hair that seemed to have been kissed by the sun—yelled, an ax gripped in her pudgy fingers. "We have come to the decision to out last these trying times, no matter what those bastards throw at us. As a result, anyone who dares threaten the survival of this town shall meet the same fate as Roy Neilia! Sear this day into your memory!"

"Let's go," Mother had urged them, dragging them both quickly from the crowd. "You don't need to see more of this."

Still, Ventus turned his head to look back without thinking. Raising the ax, the mayor crashed it down on Roy's neck, and he had tried his best not to think of Killian.

Now his throat constricted as his hand tightened around his wooden sword as the Gerudo loaded the food up in wagons. His entire body hurt remembering the beating he received a few scant weeks ago just watching them, but he forced himself to look forward—to not lower his eyes. Even if everyone else lowered their heads in a show of submission, he would not.

It would be dishonorable, after the sacrifice the other warriors were forced to give, that Uncle Killian was forced to give. He refused to mar their memories.

Even though his glare pierced them, and he could feel the eyes in their intensity joining with him in their hatred, the Gerudo did not turn around. Did not give them the time of day. He wasn't sure what enraged him more—the fact the bastards were taking their food, the Hylians were being submissive cowards about it or the Gerudo couldn't even be bothered to acknowledge them.

Occasionally he would look at his mother, to see her reaction, to see if she was as outraged as she said she was. Her face was certainly grim. He felt a similar burn as his was there in her eyes. However, he also kept seeing her eyes flicker to the side and linger, and drop down suddenly. It would repeat over and over, and not always in the same spot.

He followed her gaze one of the times, looking at a spot near the Gerudo who were carefully packing their spoils in a wagon,and his brow furrowed ever so slightly when he realized that was the spot where the invisible eyes lingered. His gut twisted ever so slightly as he stared into the empty space, half expecting something to appear.

Nothing did.

With a quarter of their stores of food left, it seemed that the Gerudo were finally done. With barely a backwards glance, they climbed aboard their horses and wagons, and disappeared into the setting sun.

Even though it was the Moon of Shadow, snow was already beginning to fall and cover the world in a blanket. The temperature was steadily dropping with no intention of stopping, and the day Rini turned eight was a rainy and dreary day.

Even though they didn't have much, he and Mom tried their best to make Rini's birthday special. At the very least she wouldn't get a nasty surprise like he did—or at least he hoped not.

"Happy Birthday, Rini!" Ventus smiled, holding out a small little dress he made for Anna from the scrap material he found laying around. Hardly his best work, but considering his limitations, not bad. He would have preferred to make his sister look good instead of her doll, but at least Rini wasn't horribly unfashionable.

Anna on the other hand gave him heartburn each time he was forced to look at her shoddy clothes. It was a damn disgrace and nobody in his family, not even the dolls, should look like that.

"Thanks, Ven!" Rini chirped, inspecting the dress gleefully before quickly undressing her doll and putting his gift on her. He felt the stress from being forced to look at such a horrid fashion ebb away, though he made a mental note to burn the former clothes later. Such accursed things shouldn't be in this world. "You know, you can always become a seamster. You're actually good at this."

Ventus snorted at that.

"The sin of terribly dressed people is great, but the kingdom is in greater need of my sword than my needle," he pointed out.

"Okay, enough," Mom butted in, before revealing the white scarf and mittens she had been crocheting; he had to keep Rini busy and amused for hours for the past couple weeks so it would be a surprise. It had been rather difficult, because she absolutely refused to go outside; the only thing she found good about the winter was staying warm in front of the fire. He was half convinced that's why she's gotten so good at helping with cooking and baking—so she could stay near her precious fire without being accused of being a slouch.

"With winter here, I thought you could use a nice pair of warm gloves and a scarf," Mom said, smiling nervously.

If she was worried about something, she need not have bothered; Rini accepted them with a squeal of delight. Why wouldn't she? Even Ven had to admit his mother did a good job, and they would keep someone who despised winter as much as Rini did, warm.

"Thanks Mommy, Ven," she smiled, squeezing her presents close to her chest. "I love them."

In Castle Town, Ventus really never noticed winter.

True, there would be snow on the ground, and it was much quieter, which gave him less headaches than the summer did. There were less whispers on the wind when the snow was on the ground, and it was like the world around him had fallen to sleep. It had always been chilly, but he was never uncomfortable.

Sniffing, snot racing back up his nose, Ventus lifted the ax and slammed it down, cracking the log and splintering it to pieces. Rubbing his nose on his scarf, leaving white streaks on the beautiful red fabric, he rested the ax on the stump before scooping the chopped wood in his arms. While a few months ago it might have been too heavy for him, his training regimen had caused his small muscles to build up.

Snow crunched under his boots as he neared the home he was living at, Rini swinging the door open the second he neared.

"Finally," she gasped, taking the top pieces of wood from him with Ventus kicking the door closed behind him as she hurried over to the dying fire.

"We need more wood soon," Ventus yelled to his mother, slipping off his scarf and cloak, his brow furrowing as he held the brown cloth up to the light. The previously frayed fabric was starting to rip.

"How can we need more wood already? It's only the Month of Courage. We still have two more months left before winter ends and the new year begins," Jinora, Rini's friend, snapped irritably as she worked on hemming a dress.

She was doing a horrid job of it too. What was so hard about a straight stitch? Yet it was uneven—like her haircut—and not at all evenly spaced. That and she didn't double knot the thread. Was she even trying?

"I'm not sure if you noticed, but it's cold enough to turn your piss to ice while you are still taking it," Ventus shot back, stealing a needle and thread which actually matched the fabric, plopping down in front of the fire next to Rini.

"Ventus, don't be crass!" Mom shouted from the kitchen.

"Yeah, Ventus, don't be crass," Jinora sneered, and Ven really wanted to smack the look off her face. He didn't like her, nor did he like how she was treating Rini as of late. The world seemed to revolve around her needs and her wants, damned to be anyone else.

"Well the lad is right," Perseus, an older man who had developed a cough which sounded like he was going to spit out a lung at any second, agreed. There were some bets being made out of the earshot of adults when the old man would die. Ven wouldn't be surprised if he was dead by the end of next month. "We need snow fer a good planting season, but if we are ter survive, we need to keep warm. Normally it's just a matter of getting more wood, but…"

His voice trailed off, glassy eyes looking out the window beyond the wall. He didn't finish his thought.

Didn't need to.

Monsters had been seen on the other side of the wall. At night, Ven could hear them too when they got close.

Rumors of stalchildren and poes now lingered on the other side of the wall, and some of those unlucky enough to be tasked to the wall upkeep swear up and down they see their glowing red eyes drawing nearer to them.

Threading the thread through the needle, he began to pull the brown string through the fabric.

"Well there is always going during the day, right?" Mom asked, stepping into the small room, giving Perseus a cup of hot tea. "Go out with a sleigh…"

"That just leaves the matter of who is going to fetch the wood," Perseus grunted, accepting the drink—but not before trying to hack up a lung.

"I'll go!"

The words escaped Ventus mouth before he could stop them. If he wanted to stop them. Even with fury blazing in his mother's eyes, Rini sensing the mood of the room and attempted to slink away before becoming a victim by proxy of their mother's anger, Ventus pushed forward despite the dangers.

"I'll get us wood!" he exclaimed, standing up, his patchwork momentarily forgotten.

"It's dangerous!" Mom growled. "Ventus, how many times now do we need to have this conversation? How many times must I tell you are just a child! What do I need to do to make you just listen to me for once?!"

Ventus opened his mouth to protest, to fight back, but Perseus beat him to it.

"Yet a child is the only one willing to risk his life." Perseus studied Ventus for a moment before leaning back into his chair. "You truly are Kubera Agni's boy, aren't you? You are going to end up like your father someday."

"A hero?" Ventus smiled hopefully.

"Dead."

A month passed, and regardless of his mother's wishes, Ventus, as one of the few volunteers, went out to chop wood in the forest outside of the village during the day.

Despite people dying due to lack of food and sickness, living quarters had become tight again after one of the houses had been cleared to make room for a morgue. With the ground completely frozen and bodies adding up by the day, the villagers had come to the agreement to store the bodies until spring when the ground thawed. Those who had not survived the winter would be buried in a mass grave or given a funeral pyre, when they could muster up the wood better.

The adults hadn't agreed which one was better, although Mama was pushing hard for cremation.

"We are already seeing necromancy at work at the forest's edge! If it wasn't difficult at the moment to start and maintain a fire, I would say we burn them right now! Why give more bodies as ammunition? Unless, of course, we plan on eating them."

The tone itself was sarcastic, but for the first time in his life, Ven, from his spot several hundred feet away, heard silence until his mother broke it. "...Goddesses."

No answer came, and since that day, Ventus had become very wary of eating meat. He would watch the morgue whenever he could, to make sure no one was doing anything suspicious with the corpses, but he wasn't able to keep a vigil around the clock.

He also realized, besides those who were in the town hall that day, he was the only one aware of the possibility of eating their fallen brethren, or at the very least the idea was beginning to be considered. Some moaned about the fact the dead bodies were stacking up, pointing out the lack of food was already killing people off and they didn't need the miasma of the deceased to add to their woes.

After all they had no casters, and a limited number of health potions; one per family. Those who were born in Sakirven were given first choice. The remainder were given out to the refugees by lottery.

Mom managed to win one.

With each passing day, Ventus noticed there were more eyes watching him. It offered him little comfort now that he knew what they were. Less so that no longer how he stared into the empty spaces, nothing appeared. Once he even tried meditating—he heard Sheikah did that—but ended up falling asleep instead.

He wanted to see Killian again. He wanted to say he was sorry. He wanted to see his father again. He wanted to tell him he loved him one last time.

"Ma," Ventus murmured dragging an ax behind him, his mother walking next to him pulling the sleigh.

While the days were relatively safe—the monsters came out at night, and with the bitter weather, no Gerudo have been seen, as they wandered further into the woods—Mom still refused to let him go alone or with the other adults.

Rini wanted to come as well, but yesterday she came down with a cough. Aside from forbidding it, Mom also didn't want to make her condition worse, so she made her stay home. So it was just the two of them and a jittery unreliable guy who was dragging his feet several yards behind them.

"What can I do to see Uncle Killian and dad again?"

Mom turned to him, silent for a moment, the snow on her hair causing it to appear all the more white. Even though she didn't have the red eyes commonly associated with the Sheikah tribe, her hazel eyes reminded him of the placid stare he used to see Lady Impa with back in Kakariko Village.

Idly, he wondered if she and the princess were safe. It seemed even now the Gerudo King chased them, destroying whatever town and village lay in his path.

"What do you mean?" Mom's voice was careful, guarded. Her words were barely above a whisper, yet Ventus could hear her perfectly in the silence of the woods.

"I want to see them, like you can. That day, shortly after the Gerudo came, you were talking to Uncle Killian weren't you? I want to talk to him and dad, too."

In the silence of the snow, the skip in Mom's heartbeat was more noticeable.

"Who told you?" she asked, her voice calm and low, betraying no emotion beyond some chattering from the cold.

Ven's brow furrowed at her question, and looked up at his mother. Her face had become much more ashen as the winter went on and like many, she didn't seem to have as much energy. Yet right now it looked like she had become a corpse herself with how pale she had become.

"Nobody," he said finally. "I just overheard you talking to him when I was outside." He looked down and swung his sword at some dead brush, the sudden movement causing some crows watching them from the tree branches to take flight. "I can feel their eyes, but with a lot more people dying and stuff, I can't tell who is who. Not that I could before, but with so many of 'em, I can't even guess now."

"Goddesses." Mom's voice shook for the first time since Dad died, the plea—or curse, Ven couldn't tell—escaping her lips.

Chancing a glance back at his mother, the young boy was surprised to see tears starting to form and cling to her eyes, and suddenly he realized perhaps she was still grieving even though she cried no longer. Wiping away the water before it could freeze, it took a couple of minutes before she got her breathing under control again. Even then when she spoke, her voice wavered and cracked.

"Neither are around anymore, Ventus. They moved on. They both moved on a long time ago." Oh. An uncomfortable weight settled in his stomach as his throat constricted before his mother continued. "And even if they hadn't, and even if I could, I wouldn't teach you. This connection, this sight, these feelings of knowing as everyone wastes away around you—I wouldn't allow you to take that burden on."

"What?" His demand was louder than he meant it to be, and his mother's eyes narrowed at him warningly, glancing back to the man behind them, who raised his head at Ventus exclamation only to look away when mom glowered at him.

"Why not?" he hissed in a much lower voice.

"Because people who can see death who aren't Sheikah, nobody understands them. They are treated as monsters, evil, even though it was a curse which wasn't asked for. You have no idea what you're asking for, and for your sake, goddesses I hope for your sake, it remains that way."

And with that, Ventus couldn't help but think of Eli Serwen and his insides twisted uncomfortably. He remembered the look of malice on the woman who stood in the gates of Kakariko, cursing out his mother, venom in her voice.

However, there was a glaring hole in her logic—one which Ventus was more than happy to point out.

"But we're Sheikah too!" he protested hotly. "You're the one who taught us all those Sheikah stories and customs! With the clan all but wiped out, it's up to people like us to carry on the Sheikah law and traditions."

"Unless your hair white and eyes red, don't go messin' with the dead." Ceres Agni turned and looked at him, and there was a look in her eyes he had never seen before. "That's final."

Ventus dipped the cloth into the bucket of water, withdrawing it and squeezing it out until every last drop of liquid escaped. Untwisting it, he carefully folded it and brought it over to a small room holding those who had become sick.

"How is she?" he asked, nudging himself between his mother and Elise, laying the cloth over Rini's forehead, her breathing labored and skin feverish. It seemed even water freshly melted from the ice and snow didn't seem to help her ailment any.

"She's not getting any better," Elise said, pressing her lips together. "Although on the same token, at least she's not getting any worse. Maybe she's gotten through the worst of it…"

"You don't sound so sure," Ventus whispered with a frown, Mom holding tightly onto Rini's hand, rubbing her thumb across her skin.

With each passing day a more troubled look would cross her face, though today her skin tone seemed unusually pale. Ventus really hoped she wasn't becoming sick too.

Every so often his sister would whimper, crying out for Mom or himself typically. Though, lately at night, she would cry for Father as well. Whenever she did so, a strike of fear rang across his heart; what if she was doing so because she was nearing the end of her life?

There were many in the sick bay, but more and more didn't return alive. Even though Rini had only been in here for a few days, Ven was beginning to be able to tell which of those who lay moaning on their straw mats, nestled between their furs, wouldn't wake up in the morning; between their rattling breath and slowing heart rate, chances were they were going to die the next few days.

"Well normally, I wouldn't worry," Elise admitted, wiping her hands on her skirt. "But between the cold, the lack of food or the miasma there is no telling when—or if—your sister will get better. I'm sorry."

"Thank you for your help," Mom murmured, her eyes never leaving Rini as Elise stood up.

"I'm sorry I cannot do more. The best advice I can offer you is to pray to the Goddesses and hope they take mercy on your daughter's soul," Elise said before shuffling away, her steps slower and heavier than when they first came here when the older woman scooted around like a hummingbird. Here one moment and gone the next.

"Mom, Rini's going to be alright," he tried to reassure his mother after a moment, feeling the need to say something to break the heavy silence which had settled over them. He also needed reassurance himself. He couldn't lose another family member so soon.

Mom didn't respond for a moment, Rini was beginning to have a coughing fit again, her eyes fluttering open and upon seeing him and mom, moaned.

"Mommy … Ven …" she whimpered. "I don't feel so well …"

"Don't worry honey, I'll get you something to eat. You'll feel better really soon," Mom replied softly, a gentle smile crossing her lips as she leaned down and kissed Rini's forehead.

Ven looked at his mother, wondering where she was going to get the food. The rations were getting smaller and smaller, and sometimes he wondered if their mother even ate at all. He himself always found himself wanting more, and whenever they went out chopping wood, he would try whatever berries he found growing outside whenever Mom wasn't looking.

The last one gave him the runs.

"I feel like I'm gonna be sick," Rini sobbed. "And it hurts—"

Her cries of pain were interrupted with another coughing fit, and Mom's brow furrowed once more. Slipping her hand out of Rini's, she turned to him.

"Ven, look after your sister. I'll be right back," she said before smiling once more at Rini, giving her a kiss, before disappearing.

There was silence between them—or as good as it was going to get for Ventus between Rini's sobs and the rattling breath of those fighting desperately for their lives.

"Ven … am I gonna die?" Rini asked quietly after a moment. "I am, aren't I?"

"No! Of course not!" Ven protested hotly, grabbing her hand and bringing it close to his chest. If he could give her his life, at least some of it, to help her, he would do so in a heartbeat. Anything to keep her from dying. Anything to save her. It was his job as the eldest.

"But everyone who leaves… is dead," she choked. "I'm next, I know I am."

"No, you're not!" he insisted, hot tears beginning to sting at his eyes. How could she say that? Was she giving up? She couldn't! He wouldn't let her! They already lost Dad and Uncle Killian, he wasn't going to lose her too.

"Listen to your brother, sweetie," Mom said, appearing with a small cup and a bowl of oatmeal. Handing her the cup first, Ven noticed that instead of the tea she usually brewed, there was a thick red liquid.

"I'm not thirsty or hungry," Rini moaned, pushing it away.

"Trust me," mom said, pushing the cup to the lips, tipping it so the liquid went into her mouth. "You'll feel much better after this."

True to his mother's promise, Rini felt much better. By the end of the day her fever had broken, her cough stopped and her ravenous appetite which had no chance of being satisfied returned.

Elise called it a miracle, however Ven wasn't so sure.

Not only that, but how long would it last? How long would it take for Rini to fall sick again? For himself? Mom?

Even though Mom tried to hide it, he noticed that her face had become paler, and was waking up later and later. It seemed even making food tired her out, and she was more prone to taking naps.

She gave him and Rini at least half—if not more—of her food portion. Ventus felt guilty for taking it, but hunger gnawed at his stomach, crying, begging for something more. He didn't complain though; Jinora did enough bitching for everyone.

Still, spring couldn't come fast enough. Yet the nights only seemed to be getting longer instead of shorter.

Elise's death surprised nobody, but in a village which was slowly becoming numb to the consistent loss of life, her death was one of the few which left villagers grieving.

It wasn't that she was a well beloved member of the community so much as she was the only one willing to treat the sick. Those with no family members were beginning to band together; they had nobody else looking out for them after all. Ventus had grown up hearing the old saying, "we're all Farore's family" and how that meant being family to each other and taking care of one another. Yet, it seemed these days, that wasn't the case.

Half were orphans. Some were around Ventus and Rini's age, but there were older ones that had passed the age of fifteen, yet were still young enough to have needed parental guidance.

They began to cause trouble, and fearing an uprising boiling under the surface, guards were beginning to be placed not only in front of the food stores, but other buildings now too as well.

Tension was thick in the air, and Ventus wasn't sure when—for it was less of a question of if—a rebellion would take place.

"Ventus, I'm hungry."

Ventus grunted, his eyes cracking open to see Rini hovering over him. He was glad she didn't shriek like a hawk like Jinora was apt to do, but he would have liked to sleep a bit longer.

Still, he pushed himself up, the blanket falling to the floor.

"We all are," he groaned, turning to their mother who was still asleep next to him. Shivering, he pulled the blanket over his shoulders.

"Ven," Rini complained, pushing against him. "I'm hungry."

"I heard you the first time, stop bitching," he snapped, turning over and shaking his mother's shoulder. Honestly, what did she want him to do? Mom was the one who got the food for their family, not him.

"I already tried that. She's not waking up," Rini told him, sitting back and wrapping her arms around her legs. At that, Ventus' heart clenched uncomfortably. He tried to ignore the fact that he couldn't hear her breath going in and out.

He shook her harder.

"Mom, time to wake up," he insisted.

Nothing.

"Mom?"

Nothing.

Panicking now, he turned her over so she was laying on her back. Holding his own breath, he rested his ear against his mother's heart. Though he had always been able to hear it before without being so close.

Nothing.