A Heavenly Burden

A Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword novelization by Ebblenubble.

According to the cliff notes, this story is unoriginal. If you don't like that, click off. If you're willing to dig through to look for the differences, stick around. All you, dear reader. Let us begin!

ACT I, HANDS OF A GREAT DESTINY

Prologue, Stay

Blood-soaked lands on holy ground, roots of trees infused with black slime and vile substances, the sky lit by a crimson moon. Cries of people and animals rang out through the night — some of warriors, some of innocents, some of sadness, some of defiance — met with laughter and jeers from demonic crowds. Metal, men, Malice, and monsters all met and mauled one another, their individual bodies lost in the fray of desperation. Their leaders were the only standouts. A fiery mane in a sea of monstrous horns. A pure white dress surrounded by shining armor. The latter was Hylia, Leader of Hyrule.

Hylia fought near the frontlines, a small crowd of knights around her to ensure her safety. Despite it, she fought as one of them, slaughtering monsters by the dozen. But one woman was not an army. Engrossed in the battle, jamming her blade through the eye of a nameless devil, she didn't notice as her soldiers began to fall. Archers stabbed with their own arrows, knights and brawlers swarmed by monsters half their size, flying warriors dragged down to hell. Only when the sounds of warfare died down, living only in the battles around her, did she realize she was alone. And surrounded.

And yet, still alive, unswarmed, for a reason. A reason she knew when the sight of the Demon King greeted her.

Clutched in one hand was the throat of a knight, and the other a thin blade with spikes at its edge. He stood twice her size, his body colored like stone and built the same way. Ashes and scales covered most of his body, up and down his arms, back, and neck. Atop his head was a mane of fire, blowing back in the sharp wind to unveil a crack in his forehead, exposing the nothingness within. At his feet was a goopy, red and black substance, leaving a trail wherever he stomped. That was Malice: hatred incarnate. And this was Demise: leader of the demon army. The reason she lost so much, both now and long ago.

He crushed the knight's throat, decapitating them with ease, before he approached her. Each step crushed something or someone, met with indifference. His expression was unreadable, due to both his firm face and the night time battle. When he stopped ahead of her, his burning eyes shot a hole through her soul. "Lady Hylia," he said. "So you fight in this battle too."

She raised her sword, taking deep breaths to try and slow her racing heart. Beyond her fear was a strong woman, one who had killed without thought, the kind that nobody would see fear in whether it was even there at all. But Demise saw through her facade. Still, decades on, he saw a scared little girl who lost the world in a week. And knowing that he knew only scared her more.

"And you won't for much longer, I promise you," she threatened, pointing the edge of her blade at him in a daring display of determination.

"Then I will warn you of the same."

He dashed toward her, slamming his blade onto hers with the force of a thousand suns. She dug her heels into the dirt, releasing a yelp. Despite her attempts to remain still, the force was too much — one step forward for him was three steps back for her. She looked at his exposed side and escaped the clash. She embedded her blade into him, ripping her blade across, intent on gutting him. It wouldn't stop him for long — but that was if she succeeded. To which, she didn't. Halfway through him, the spirited essence within Demise spilling out, he backhanded her with unholy strength.

All she could do was hold onto her sword for dear life as she flew through the battlefield, careening into walls that tore and shattered as she went. When she rolled back onto the ground, bruising and bleeding, she found herself at the back of the battlefield. Even without their leader's direct help, the monsters were quickly decimating the frontlines, which had now been moved closer to the core of the soldiers' defense. And the line would break soon enough, leaving the core exposed.

Not only was the temple a point of a last stand — it was the point that Demise could NOT reach.

"RAAAAAGHH!"

Hylia's eyes snapped upward, horrified to find Demise mid-air, his blade raised high, his mane flailing wildly, his eyes filled with nothing but rage. Only one comprehensible thought slipped through her mind before he landed.

'…He just jumped over a mile in a heartbeat…'

In the fraction of a second between the thought and the sight of him, he crashed down onto her. His foot crushed her forearm. She screamed, her bones snapping below his sole, the limb already going red and blue with swelling and suffocation. She raised her free arm and stabbed his ankle. He didn't make a sound. He stomped on her head, shoving her face into the dirt. The Malice coming from his steps had infused itself with the dirt, burning her tongue and her face. Visions of horror flashed through her mind — torn limbs, screams, emptiness — before she reawoke in a different room, more agonized than before.

It was the inside of the temple, built with a skylight and a throne in the middle. Below that throne was a power all could possess — but none could own. Losing that power to Demise would send the world into annihilation. She avoided that once and lost her family, friends, and closest idol in the process. She would avoid it again. Whatever the hell it took.

She spat, taking her sword and standing up. A hole through her numb forearm, a sprained ankle, maybe more broken bones, and blood. Blood with a tangy and dull taste, mixing with worms and sweat, the former of which still writhing somewhere down her esophagus. The smell of dirt and muck on her lip was fresh and sickening. Every muscle twitched, trying to stay connected — every bone held shape, but was so close to breaking — every thought lost form but held a single word to their name.

'Fight, Triforce, defend, Mom, Dad, Zelda, stay, stay, stay, stay!'

Demise marched through the smashed, brandishing his blade, his wound from earlier healed entirely. "You fight well," he announced. His tone was dead. "But not well enough." He slammed his blade onto the marble floor.

CLAAAAAANG!

She winced, almost curling up at the pitch and ugly horror of the sound. And something about the silence after, how the war outside was nonexistent in this room, got her heart racing faster. It was beating so fast and loudly, she didn't even know if it was beating at all. But what did that matter? She was standing, she had to fight. She had to stay.

"Why…?" she asked, harking out dirt and blood that had entered her mouth. "What… being sealed for decades didn't get the message across?" Her lips curled up, barely, her battered features hardly holding the same beauty they once did. "So why? Huh? WHY?!" Her tone wasn't begging pathetically on its knees. Her tone was ready to kill.

Demise shrugged, his firm features not loosening. Now that she could see his face, lit by the focused crimson light from above, she noticed a lack of… anything. Other than his eyes and tense brow, there wasn't a hint of emotion within. His lips were a thin line. Not the horrific smile she remembered. Not the blood-coated teeth that could tear skin and flesh. No effort seemed to be in how he walked and fought.

"Why not," he responded.

She scoffed. "You're a being of rage… where's the flair you used to have?" In the time that they shared this reprieve, she was healing. Not to full physical potential, maybe, but enough to stand without quivering. "No teeth? No proud cry? Just a single 'raagh' and that's it?"

"Rage is my core and my soul. War is the food that feeds me. I see no use expressing rage when there is no sustenance within." He gently rested the tip of his sword on the ground, the act so delicate she needed to see it twice. "But this is war. I will hold respect for you, Lady Hylia, but I will not show mercy." He raised a pointed finger, his lips tightening. "And neither should you."

WOOSH CLASH!

He closed the distance between them, his sword close to her neck, stopped only by hers. He pushed down, the edge close enough that a bead of her sweat fell onto it. Trapped against her throne, she could only lean away, leaving her neck exposed. No amount of pushing or leaning would save her, so she glanced around for anything at all. Walls, glass, pillars — burning pain. Her breath left her body as the blade made full contact, ripping open her skin and leaving a trail of fire. Teal blood began leaking, but even an inch more of damage and it would be spraying.

'Weapon, weapon, weapon…

Don't need it, don't need it!'

She threw her blade, in turn pushing Demise back, and flipped over her throne. The blood was leaking, and fast, drinking her life force. It would take everything to hold onto that alone, but it didn't matter. Whatever the hell it took.

She ran at him, landing a punch. It didn't hurt him; it confused him at the lack of force. A second — for just that long — was all she needed to take her sword back and slash at him. Then again. Again. Again, again, again, again again again. Each time was less graceful, more ravenous, each hit rageful. Aches, cramps, and freezing in her joints didn't stop her from fighting. She would survive. Maybe not win, but she would survive. She swung again, able to see the emptiness from the growing number of gashes on Demise's chest. Victory, so close.

But just far enough that he stopped her sword.

At the stopping of momentum, she blinked. He caught her head in his hand. And he slammed it onto the sharp corner of her throne. A CRACK rang through the temple, whether from the stone or her skull was unclear. What was clear was one thing: Victory had long since abandoned her.

The impact of her head against her throne was so strong that the skylights above shattered.

Demise stepped back, pressing his sword into the ground. The Malice by his feet began converging, slithering up the edge of his sword, engulfing it slowly. The formations it made were root-like, not only covering his sword but also expanding it, still writhing. Still alive. Hatred incarnate.

She stood, a large gash on the side of her head. Blood now got into her eye, seeping its way back into her brain, overloading everything. A part of her wanted to give up. To get on her knees and accept the worst. To leave.

But a thought remained in her head.

'Stay.'

She smeared the blood from her eye onto her face, trying to clear up her vision as she looked Demise in the eye. Then, she looked to the sky, her balance barely holding on.

The blood-lit sky was quite clear through the skylights.

…

Sky.

The sky.

She raised her sword high into the air, opening a small hole in the sky full of pure white light. A ray struck her sword, infusing some of the most ancient power known into her blade. Light of Old. Light from the Goddesses before her. The kind that could seal anything. Like Demise.

By the time she prepared her strike, Demise had prepared his, both of their blades readied in a dueling duet of fate.

She swung. He swung.

They both hit.

War outside seemed to die as Demise withered away, absorbed only temporarily into her sword. Hylia, though, was set to face something worse. A burning, agonized death that was unstoppable. She had a minute, maybe less. But it was enough. Still fueled by adrenaline, she lumbered onto her throne, taking one last seat on it. She reached underneath the seat, unveiling an intangible glow that she picked. Now in the open, the glow took form — three golden triangles in unity and peace. Three forces that could grant any wish with absolute certainty.

But the Malice had entered her system now.

Blood tried escaping her body out through her mouth, her limbs were quickly becoming numb and blue, ice cold. Her mind flashed with memories, her heart slowed, the pressure in her body falling. Her brain, if it was even working correctly before, was failing. She held on to one word, even if it meant the rest lost meaning in her head. 'Stay.'

"Oh… G-Goddesses of Old…" she muttered, her throat closing up with fluids she couldn't name. "A-as I hold this relic… the Triforce… I-I make my one wish…"

Death closed in, its gentle embrace seconds away. She could only get a few more words out before she hugged death back.

"L-let me… stay…"

…

Rumble, rumble, rumble…

Rumble rumble rumble…

RUMBLE RUMBLE RUMBLE…!

RUMBLE RUMBLE RUMBLE!

The ground separated from the surface, rising into the sky, taking dozens with it. Corpses, survivors, the remaining monster mush, and anyone who was within the bounds of the community of Hyrule. The strength of such a lift also carried smaller islands to the heavens above, some pieces miles beyond others, some pieces merging with others. Either way, all of it ascended to the heavens above, higher than the sea of clouds. The sea that, while no longer the shade of blood and pain, would never clear. Not for a long, long time, it wouldn't. The world knew the Goddess as dead.

But she lived on.

She stayed.

A/N

Hey! If you came into this expecting fully original ideas... sorry. I do have them! I just... y'know... don't want to make a full AU story quite yet. Or for a while. Don't worry: It's on me for not marketing this as a novelization outside of the prologue, so if you don't want a novel, feel free to look for others.

If you wanna stay to see what I've got (which I'd prefer), then please enjoy the rest of the chapters!
(This Prologue was edited from its original form. Other chapters are not. Do be aware if you continue.)