A chill crept in through the cracks in the walls, only held at bay by the crackling fire, its light giving Vaati the opportunity to occupy himself with yet another old tome while waiting for his apprentice to get back from her fool's errand. Ancient spells, the works of fools and mad men, collected together with barely rhyme or reason save for their blatherings of poisons and curses and hearsay. Some cures, they said, took hours. Others entire days, depending on the potency. Ideas filled with such disturbing things as removing afflicted limbs or treatments with odd combinations that would be more likely to leave the ill worse off than cure them. Vaati growled, sneering at the imprudent and rash "knowledge" these so-called experts had gleaned about malice and the illness it could inflict. Nothing more than half-witted dullards who couldn't crack an egg or fetch water from a well, never mind how the most base of potions or spells worked!

And worse, as was the wrought of experts in the field of sorcery, they recorded mostly the results, not the how-to of the spellwork. Once he got his magic back, he would make sure there were books with detailed explanations of spellwork all written by his hand and published in every tongue. He doubted he himself had been as bad as this lot of half-baked hedge-mages. He was the Great Vaati! If he found his spellbooks...they would certainly explain everything, from the simplest option to the most complicated whirlwind. He had not been so cagey and secretive, certainly, though he really couldn't recall...

Vaati tossed the heavy book to the side instead of into the fireplace where it belonged, and slid another from the stack at his side. Such tedious work to find even a scrap of what he needed to fix this. Yet, he could not stop. He would not stop, not when his mastery was at stake and his followers were falling as moths to an open flame. He opened it to find no index - typical - then flipped some pages in, where was described the extraction of ink from a normal squid. He flipped further back and found that the ink was for a seal and gathering it from a non-magical creature made the ink more "pure".

Vaati paused. A seal for himself, a seal on a bottle. A seal to preserve a cure or to encourage the monstrous poison to gather in one place... He skimmed the rest of the book, then came upon more insanity. The ramblings of a man convinced that ink was healthy to drink and would prove better for the body than eating softened tree bark. What would they drink next, soap to purify a cold?

That book, too, was put aside instead of in the flames. But it was a near thing.

Why must his followers be so fragile, so imbecilic at times? They were told the water was pure poison, a veritable death sentence, yet some drank anyways. If only he could conjure more potions or gather from scattered groups beyond Windfall, but no. The former required his magic and the latter would not willingly obey his word. Without Ruuya...he let out a growl.

Tap-tap-tap the rain harshly fell as he reached for another. Wind crashed against the walls, strong enough to dump the contents on top of the rickety table next to the door onto the floor. Thunder rumbled in the distance and lightning illuminated the wooden boards, briefly, in stark yellows and frightful blue hues. But in that flash of light, the silver lettering on one spilled tome caught his eye. It was, oddly, sticking out of Ruuya's spare pack almost hidden under all the other shit that had been dumped from it: several empty bottles, rupees of various hues, a strange hookshot, and other books she had presumably stolen...a few of them his. Vaati growled again. He reached for the book that had caught his eye, the silver runes calling out to him like a rare treasure might capture the eyes of a thief.

Is that...a copy of the book of Mudora? he thought, staring at the familiar runes in disbelief. He opened the cover, a folded piece of paper falling out. A note from some woman named Minia, going on about how Ruuya should sell it to make her way in the world. What foolishness. He was glad his apprentice was not dumb enough to have done so, if she had even known she had the book in the first place. This...this could be the solution that they needed. After all, some of the folktales contained stories with ancient spells...older than even he...

It was, he decided, a better place to look at than any of the books on his shelf. Thus, Vaati reclaimed his cushy seat by the fire and began to read.

/-/

Grey rain and grey wind followed them back to Windfall, making Ruuya cold, weary, and soaked. Her cloak was a wet blanket, her hair, she swore, had never been dry, and her body shivered from the relentless chill. Dear gods, and this was supposed to be the height of summer in southern Hyrule. Miserably miserable, the dismal weather had dampened her soul. They still had so much to do before they could even use the treasure to fix the mess she had created.

With each mile, the skies above them seemed to darken. It might just be a trick of her mind, or a whim of fate that the storm was getting worse as they approached home, but when lightning flashed in front of them, Bazz pulled back on his reigns, causing his bay to come to a quick stop and nearly bump into Jamila's head as the horse backed up. Ruuya cursed their rotten luck.

The lingering flashes of bright light cleared from her vision, and the rain came to a sudden halt. In the dead silence that followed, her heart thumped in her ears, her hands tightened around the reins, and her breathing quickened. This silence felt as unnatural as that storm had been…

"I don't like this," the Zora said, guiding his horse so that it backed up beside her own. He turned his head to look at her. "Why would…"

Ruuya didn't hear his next words, for right then she heard the scamper of feet through the underbrush. Even here, not too far from the outskirts of Windfall, the forest was yet thick and vibrant, so, at this new cacophony of sound, Ruuya reached for her bow, aiming an arrow at the nearest shrub. She would not be taken unaware.

Then Bazz gently struck said arrow with the shaft of his spear, causing her to lower the weapon. "What, pray tell, do you think is in there?"

"Voe?" She replied instinctively, then bit her tongue. "Moblins?"

He flattened his lips, then bared his teeth, slightly. The noise grew louder.

"It could-"

"Cap'n! Ruu!" that voice made her heart leap to her throat. It was impossible, and even if she were to hear it again, it should have been filled with hate and rage, especially after what Ruuya had done, and now that the speaker knew what she was...who she was... "Zaffre! They're back!"

Zaffre...oh. Right. That was one of the thirty-odd village guards, a round-eared woman with cropped black hair and odd orange eyes. She would have been beautiful if she didn't have such a tacky color sense and white scars on her left cheek, one even crossing the side of her mouth at a sharp angle. The blue cape she wore, thrown over one shoulder was horrendously bright. The pink tunic, worse, and the silver chestplate...well, the ensemble simply didn't fit well together. But one would not be a citizen of Windfall if they did not have some peculiarities, really, and compared to most of the others, the Lieutenant of the Townguard seemed normal, other than the fact that she was technically an outsider who had settled here after the town was built.

And she scared Ruuya. If Nan had blabbed… Ruuya stiffened.

Nan all but bounced up to them, and Zaffre tailed after her, crossing her arms and ordered the young constable to take care, cold and professional as always.

"You're...better," Ruuya managed to say through clenched teeth.

The girl lifted an eyebrow in confusion. Maybe she had… "Oh right. Your fib." She shrugged. "I don't care much, but you shouldn't keep secrets from friends, Ruu. That's what hurt."

Ruuya blinked. Looked back at Zaffre, but the woman had leaned back against a tree and seemed lost in thought, then walked over to speak with the Captain. "Thank you," she replied. "I…"

"Don't do it again."

"I won't lie." Maybe. She probably needed to append something to that. "Usually."

"Leave, I mean," the girl sniffed, and then, tears unbidden rose to her eyes. "I...I don't want to lose you too."

Her heart skipped a beat. Lose her too. The words echoed in her brain, her stomach twisted into knots. It couldn't be, this couldn't be...Alysse.

She had survived birthing twins just to succumb to this plague days later. All because of...

She gathered Nan in her arms, holding her close as the young constable cried into her chest. It wasn't time to let herself weep, she needed to be strong for this...still young child… And she had no right to mourn, for she had brought this on her family's head, because of her fear, her greed, her stupidity.

Dear gods… Her hands were stained red with her mother's blood.

"I made her come out here to get her out of that accursed house, out of town too, considering the reek," Zaffre was saying, clearly giving the voe behind them a report of recent events. "Sir, it's gotten worse."

"How so?"

"More are sick, the old and the very young, like spots of red on a black canvas. But not those twins. They're fine. Absolutely. I don't get-" Even her voice broke.

"Lieutenant, stay on task. Anything else?"

"There's the smell. The purple haze."

The Zora hmmmed in reply.

"And this strange tar in the streets."

Ruuya gasped, then looked over her shoulder, Bazz gave her a nod. How had it gotten there?

"It all started after…" Alysse had passed. Ruuya did not need to hear the rest to fathom the woman's point. It was as clear as the desert on a day without wind or cloud.

"That is enough," Bazz said. "There is no need to provoke grief, Zaffre."

"Understood."

"We...we should get back," Nan said, weakly. "Didja find what you were looking for?"

"Yeah," Ruuya said, glancing at her pack still snapped onto Jamila's saddle. "We did."

It seemed so pointless now. All for naught. What was the point of having that thing if she couldn't save those she loved? The village...that didn't matter. Alysse...her family. That did. She was a sham, selfish. No more heroic than the sorcerer she served.

"Maa said you would," she paused, then somehow, despite it all, smiled. A light in the darkness when all others went out, that was their Nan. "She always had faith in you. She told me to tell ya that."

Ruuya began to shake, and a few tears sprung to her eyes, but she wiped them free. A wicked woman like her did not deserve to cry. And Nan...squeezed her hand.

"Paa says it's good to grieve," Nan said, meeting her eyes. "We didn't bring horses. Could we…?"

"Of course," Bazz replied, bowing his head. "Let us ride back together."

/-/

The moment Ruuya stepped through the door to the potion shop, Vaati's imperious voice rang out.

"I'm in the potions room. Bring me the scale!" Eyes, arms, and everything aching, Ruuya rushed through the shop, digging into the bag at her side. She bashed her side into the door to the room in the back, her brief slowdown and the equally as sedate opening left her to sidestep through instead of waiting another half second. Inside, she found the sorcerer bent over the small desk, the top cluttered with papers, scratched out notes and illegible scrawling covering every inch of the wood.

He turned at her entrance, hand outstretched expectantly. A smudge of purple and black underlined his bloodshot eyes. "Well?" he asked, more of a demand than anything else. "Do you have it?"

Ruuya brandished the gift from Farosh. "We could not get the scale, but we were blessed with this: a piece of the dragon's horn."

She was barely done speaking when he snatched it from her hand, turning it over in his own, his eyes growing larger as he examined the yet glowing piece of yellow ivory. "How...how did you come by such a thing?"

Ruuya all but fell onto the nearest stool. "It doesn't matter," she said. "I got back too late...I…"

"She died three days, maybe four, after you left," he said, shifting his hand back and forth. It had taken just that long to get there. "Unless you have the power to manipulate space and time like the goddess Hylia herself, you could not have saved her from her fate."

"That…" Her shoulders slumped forward. "Doesn't make me feel better."

"It's not supposed to. These are merely the facts, girl." He gave her a strange look, then shook his head. "Nearly a hundred people have died. That's almost a tenth of my minions."

Ruuya growled, baring her teeth, her hands gripping the edge of her seat until her knuckles turned yellow. "They're living beings, not minions. Not servants. Not whatever else you want to call them to demean their worth as people!"

He waved a dismissive hand at her words and turned back to his work. "And more will die if we do nothing," he replied, harshly. "You have seen the sludge in the alleys. It reeks of His power, His menace, whatever it is. There are tales in this book" - he gestured to the tome in front of him with the piece of curling ivory still in his hand - "of plagues cured by the goddess Hylia. Of the dead raised, though we would need a powerful mage skilled in water and light for such a feat as that. Of miasma cleansed by holy water…"

Purification. "Would the purification spell of the Zora work?" she asked, her mind shifting to the task at hand, and started to pace across the mixing room. It would have been what Alysse wanted, the woman had always cared more about Windfall than anything else. Ruuya could not raise the dead, she was not even sure if such legends were real, but she could save those who were right in front of her, the people Alysse loved. Vaati quirked an eyebrow at her as she completed her third cycle, turning on her ankle to start a fourth. "No, that's too simple, isn't it?"

"I believe we can use it as a base, perhaps, or at least some type of purification spell, though light might be a better element to use in this case," he replied, lifting a hand to his chin, and scratching the few knobs of lilac fuzz that dared to grow on it. "Advanced spells like this must be written upon the device much like I did with the mirror. The ivory can serve to empower our Rod of Purification, yes, but we must speak with the blacksmith tonight. I bought silver off that Baza and a sapphire gem, as sapphires work as a better conduit for water and light magic than other jewels. We will use my staff because the people of Windfall believe it has great worth and power. On it, we will place the silver casing our blacksmith has made, the sapphire, and this sliver of horn. Then last but most importantly, we'll have to find someone somewhat skilled in woodwork to carve the runes of my spell and then empower it with magic, much as we did with the mirror."

Another knot in her stomach. "The carpenter is dead?"

He nodded. "And his two apprentices. The journeyman is yet too ill to work, I doubt there is-"

"I can do it," she said quickly, showing him the words she had carved into the staff of her spear. "Does it have to be pretty?"

"Oh, I think we won't have to worry about that anymore," he said, smiling at the shard in his hand. "Off with you. I will prepare the spellwork. And make sure to bring that idiot Bazz."

/-/

They worked throughout the night. Vaati probed after Bazz to explain the tales and myths of Zoran purification that he could recall, of the spellwork they used, and how, exactly, they envisioned the magic to take place. Ruuya didn't quite understand why such things were important, but she kept a mental note of each one, adding them to her horde of knowledge. It was from this that Vaati constructed a spell as the clock struck the second hour after midnight, then he wore a triumphant smirk as he approached his apprentice. The circles under his eyes had deepened into pits, but didn't lessen his satisfaction.

"You're finally done?" she asked, rubbing at her own eyes. She had been working on her wood carving using discarded pieces of lumber, carving letters and runes into the boards and poles with knives and tools taken from the carpentry. It was now legible, at least. That was the best they could ask for at this point. "Is it...is it long?"

She hoped not. Her hands already ached.

He snorted. A lump of dread tumbled down into her stomach. Such disdain was rarely a good sign.

Vaati stuck a hand into his robe and took out a lump of paper. Ruuya reached for crinkled parchment, deftly unfurling it. It read:

"From Divine Beast Vah Ruta's spring,

blessed by gods and sages true,

water, cold, from mountains bring,

Calm and clean."

She grimaced. "That's too long."

Vaati rolled his eyes.

"And horrible."

"Oh, you think it needs to be poetic?" he snapped. "A complex spell must tell a story and end in a command. Even the most simple spellwork combines both."

She lifted an eyebrow. There was something wrong about this spell. She could feel it, though she could not discern what. However, years in the desert had told her to trust her gut in uncertain times, especially when concrete knowledge failed. "It's too vague," she said. "That story doesn't make any sense for us. Where in the hell is this spring? That horn doesn't belong to Vah Ruta..."

He muttered something about his old master, then snarled. "Fine," Vaati hissed, acidic. He turned, stomping away in a huff and slamming the door behind him. Ruuya snorted, then tapped the butt of the staff on the floor. That stupid old mage, she thought, always making things more complicated than they need to be.

What use was a story when it was stripped of all emotion and meaning? They didn't even have water from such a spring; Windfall got its water from the rivers found to the east, not...

The last line hadn't even rhymed. Despite what Vaati said about it being unnecessary, she couldn't shake the feeling that the spell wouldn't work without that. No one here was a powerful mage, at least not anymore.

"I assume you told him much as I did." She looked up. Bazz, who apparently hadn't made it out before Vaati threw that tantrum, now sat on one of the stools opposite hers, arms folded across his chest. "What a stubborn, old bat. No pun intended, of course."

Ruuya raised an eyebrow. She didn't believe that for a second. "These are your people, and this is your magic. What do you think?"

"I am a terrible poet," he began, "or my mother was the spellmaker, not I. But those won't serve as excuses will they, no matter how true they are?"

Ruuya hummed and leaned back, rubbing a knot in the staff with her thumb.

"Ruuya, I do not think we can access that magic here. I told Vaati as such. These are the wrong tools. Yes, silver and sapphires were often used by my people when they made artifacts of power, but...a horn of Farosh? She is a dragon of wind and light, not shadow and water…"

Her hand fell, scratching the scrap of wood she had just discarded. Runes edged for hours ruined. Hours… She picked it up, staring at the worthless plywood with worthless words carved into it. "So, it's all been useless."

And she had dared to hope she could right this wrong.

"I didn't say-" She chucked the board at him, aiming for his face. Handily, he snatched it out of thin air. Dammit. "For goddess's sakes."

She stood, nearly taking up the urge to walk out in a huff like Vaati had earlier. But she was not so old that she had all but become a child again. "It is. All of it. I…" She was not weeping. Those weren't trails of tears running down her cheeks, they were trails of fire, guilt, shame. "I brought this upon us all."

A warm hand touched her forearm, comforting, like a mother might, and he handed her back the board. "No, it is merely the wrong story," he said, and Ruuya blinked back tears she did not deserve to cry. "Which do you think is the right one?"

"...Alysse?" She trembled still, but nodded. That did sound right. But... Alysse was... Ruuya swallowed. "I am no bard either," she said with a sigh, holding the board to her chest. "How can I be expected to write for her in the first place?"

How could she deserve to?

"There is no harm in trying," the Zora answered. "After all, I doubt you can do any worse than our esteemed potions master."

Ruuya glanced at the sapphire that now topped the staff held in place by the shard of horn and the silver casing. The gem had replaced the amethyst that had long crowned the staff, and the silver had replaced the old golden tip, creating new from old. Rebirth. Hope. She opened her mouth, then closed it. A moment later she tried again. "Light and warmth…" she said, every word uttered as if she were testing them. "She would tell a story of light and warmth. Of hope in the darkness." She paused, squeezed her eyes shut. "Family. A return home, after everything...? ...Uniting a people."

Ruuya ruminated, staring at the staff through a misty haze. The funeral hadn't even been held yet due to the muck and sickness which ravaged the town. It didn't seem possible that such a strong woman would be taken by the blight, and yet, here they were. The impossible had occurred. All she wanted was for time to stop for a few minutes or weeks, or to somehow reverse and find some way to bring Alysse back, but she could yet hear the clock on the wall ticking away second by second, bringing them closer and closer to their doom.

Half of the village's heart had been torn out, and no one could stop to mourn. She was responsible. She had brought this blight, destroyed the town...but Alysse had done something similar, once. She chose to send a Gerudo on a fool's mission to save her people, to risk everything based on the off-chance that that sorcerer could help…and would not bring them to ruin, instead.

Maa has faith in you.

She squeezed the staff, muttering a few words out loud in her native tongue, falling back to memories of dances and rituals with meaning in every movement. She turned her chosen words over in her head, putting them together. She tested them out loud, and when she found them lacking, shook her head, and tried again.

What was Alysse to her? To these people? Their journey from the twisted Dark World and into the Light had to be preserved. Alysse. Alysse, a woman who had always held faith in her people before gods, sorcerers, or kings.

When she finally turned back to Bazz, there was a proud but sad smile touching the corners of her lips. "I have it," she whispered, wiping her eyes with one hand.

The Zora gave a solemn nod.

She let out a breath, then took in another.

"Our light in darkest night,

A mirrored home, unified

The warm hearth in midst of blight,

With sacred Light, purify."

Bazz smiled gently. "I think," he said, "she would be proud."

Ruuya lifted her knife, and began whittling away at the shaft of the staff.