Whoever said all wounds are healed with time, alas, Urbosa, oh so clearly lied.

A grieving year has passed you by, where every morning cuts like a rusty, jagged knife. For you see her face in every wisp of cloud, hear her voice in every mountain stream, feel her touch in every desert breeze. You can hardly sleep, hardly speak, hardly eat, hardly breathe. No, Urbosa, time could neither rinse her name from your throat, nor tear her smile from your mind.

Would that you could lay this ache on paper with but the scribbling of a pen. You would flood the kingdom's libraries with endless pages of your pain and then, with the lightning in your heart, set them all aflame. You would let them burn until they were naught but embers, smoke, and ash.

And if that did not suffice, you would do it again. And again and again and again.

One year gone. Vanished like mist in a vicious winter wind.

And then…

"Hail Urbosa, Chieftain of the Gerudo," the King's messenger shouts, "I come bearing tidings, and a Royal Summons from Rhoam, King of Hyrule!"

Three days has he shouted from the sands behind the palace, and three days those shouts have gone ignored. Oh, how vigorously you try to drown his abrasive calls, burying your ears in pillows and growling curses into your bed!

"Hail Urbosa, Chieftain of the Gerudo! I come bearing tidings, and a Royal Summons from Rhoam, King of Hyrule!"

Will he not be silent? Has he no pity, no compassion, no shame? Does he not see that you would not come even if the Goddess herself were calling your name?

Aleine, captain of your guard, touches your shoulder, her voice soft, but stern, "My lady, I can delay him no further. You must go. You cannot refuse a summons from the King."

The King, and his summons, can both go to Demise. Let him send his legions. You will gladly offer them your head. You would lay your life on the headsman's block ten thousand times, and again, before you journey to Central Hyrule, to the castle itself, where memories of her live in every rough-hewn rock, every windswept tree and every trivial blade of grass. Where the whisper of her voice echoes off your soul like a thunderclap, and her smile dances in the air.

But the messenger shouts once more…

"Hail Urbosa, Chieftain of the Gerudo," he pauses, "I come bearing a Royal Summons from Rhoam, King of Hyrule…and grave tidings regarding his daughter, the Princess Zelda."

Your head rises and your heart nearly stops.

Zelda. Little Zelda…

Do you remember how you would tickle the soles of her feet when she was nought but a newborn, her mother giggling alongside her? Do you remember how she would lead you both through the castle library, excitedly, and encyclopedically, telling tales of the Zeldas who came before? Do you remember the days when you all would eat fruitcakes on the Elma Knolls, basking beneath the mighty soaring pines? Goddess. What further tragedy could befall such a sweet and innocent babe? What further misfortune requires your unhappy aid?

It is this, Urbosa, that stirs you from your silk laden bed, it is this that clasps your lone Scimitar to your hands. For Zelda, and Zelda alone, you leave the palace, and Gerudo Town, and enter the sun-baked desert sands.

At the southwestern walls, you find the King's messenger, sweating like a glass filled to the brim with ice. He does not see you, utterly consumed, as he is, by the arid desert heat. You watch as he ravenously gulps at a bubbly and blue elixir, before pulling a deep and heavy breath…

"Hail Urbosa, Chieftain of the Ge-"

"I heard you the first time, voe," you cooly snap.

The messenger jumps near out of his skin. "L-Lady Urbosa, I-"

"Well? I am here," you snarl, "Speak quickly, and stop wasting my time."

He swallows thickly and composes himself, "King Rhoam summons you to Hyrule Castle. Your assistance is needed with a matter of-"

"Yes, I heard that part," you impatiently flare, "Tell me what tidings you have of the Princess?"

He opens his mouth but no words tumble out. Your anger swells like a thunderhead rising above the clouds.

"Speak!" you roar, "Or perhaps I shall return you to the castle without that thing between your legs you voe care so desperately for!"

The messenger blanches with such exquisite fear, "I-I don't know! I haven't even heard rumors! The King… I-"

This, as it happens, is all you need to hear. You leave the King's messenger gaping meekly at the walls, his stare stumbling into your back. A sand seal is wordlessly roped for you, and at once a breathless journey begins. You cross the desert like a vulture as the map burns like tinder in your head, and all the while you nervously chew your fingernails down to the nib. Oh Urbosa, my friend, can you ignore this shadow weighing on your mind, following you down every road, past every village, every tree, every sign? The ghosts that hooded travelers say haunt the valleys, as they pass you in the night? This is how your hell is built, o Champion, for you know you are the only ghost that is trapped in the world behind.

But through Gerudo Canyon, Outskirt Hills and Central Hyrule plains, your eyes are kept ever forward, your thoughts are kept ever blank. For, as it is now told, Urbosa, when Zelda needed you, nothing, not even you, could stand in the way.

In the heart of Castle Town you pass iron-eyed and stone-tongued soldiers on gray, monotonous streets. 'Tis so familiar and yet so different all at once, you achingly think. The clicking of hooves on cobblestones, the exasperated sounds of a vai hounding her husband, the pungently sweet smells of Castle Town life, now gloomy and listless and bereft.

You shiver. Was this place always so cold? Was it always this grim? Has her light left here too, just as it left you? You were always chilled by these hard, stony lands, but love lit a fire in your heart, as warm as a wood-laden hearth and as soft as downy pillows in your bed. But now she is gone, taking with her all of the…

Bite back your tears, Urbosa, bite your lip until it bleeds. Your heart screams that it was a mistake to come here, but you cannot turn away. Think of Zelda. She may be here, somewhere in the castle, desperately calling your name.

A young attendant, a Shiekah vai, finds you here, and ushers you to the sanctum in a daze. As the wind and rain beat war drums on the leaded windows you see, sitting on a lonely silver throne, a shriveled, pale and withered King Rhoam.

How dramatically has the renowned king aged! His tightly trimmed hair and beard, which were of a famed onyx-black, are now both long, frayed and gray. What fat there was on his dense, muscular frame has vanished, leaving behind gaunt, willowy ribs. Even for a Hylian he looks far older than his years but, despite his freshly-formed wrinkles, I must admit he looks little wiser.

"Your Majesty…" you haltingly say, "I have-."

"Urbosa. Good. You're here."

You startle. "Your…Majesty?" The King's burning voice spills like acid from his throat, and your fears grow like noxious weeds. Where is little Zelda? Why is she not beside her father today?

"Your Majesty, where is the Princess? I was told she had great need of-"

"Indeed," Rhoam stands, pacing across the balcony on which his lustrous throne sits, "Our hour rapidly grows late, and your Kingdom requires you to undertake a critically important task. Evil is rising all across Hyrule, and its omens are clear. A dire wind is blowing, Urbosa, and we will be lucky to survive its gale."

Your pulse quickens, and your throat constricts like a snake, "Your Majesty, is the Princess-"

"Do not interrupt your King," he scorns, "The Shiekah are no closer to finding the Divine Beasts of legend, and now, with monsters appearing in greater numbers all across the kingdom, my soldiers are spread perilously thin. Now, I summoned you here for many reasons, including…"

King Rhoam swings his words about like a scythe. On and on he rambles, but you hear not a word about Zelda in all his prattling phrases. By the Goddess, what terror does he evade? What frightful thing can he not bring himself to say?

"Your Majesty," you anxiously interject, "It is a long journey from the desert and I have my own troubles to worry about. I came here for the Princess, not to hear of whatever peril we may face. Where is she? I do not have the stomach for further games."

King Rhoam sighs, slumps and fretfully shakes his head, "Direct as always, Urbosa. Very well. Plainly then." With a hampered, uneasy look, he soberly meets your eyes.

"Zelda has not unlocked the Goddess' power that is her birthright."

Your jaw drops and your muscles promptly slacken.

That… that is it?

King Rhoam does not notice your shock, nor your mouth hanging agape, "As I said before, Lady Urbosa, your Kingdom requires your aid. The Princess must consummate her holy duty, and your assistance is needed with…"

His words seem to drift like dust beyond your ears, and your sad anxiety is driven out by anger, filling your heart with bitter rage. You could have stayed in the desert! You should have stayed in the desert! Has the King no sympathy for you, nor the sorrow that shakes your soul? Does he not sense the fury in your demeanor now, nor the electricity prickling in the air?

"Now then," he persists in his pacing, meandering around the dais, "Each race has their power. Lord Daruk has his shield, Lady Mipha has her healing, and the Rito tell of a youth named Revali who commands the wind as if it were a toy. And, of course, you have your lightning."

He sighs, "Therefore, in light of your close relationship with the Royal Family, I summoned you here to tell me how you gained this power, in order for Zelda to do the same."

How indeed, Urbosa…

Do you remember that fateful night? 'Twas love that awoke the lightning in your soul, under a dark and moonless sky. Love for a beautiful Hylian girl, to whom you would give the earth, and the all stars that sit on high. And the King asks you to tell this tale, along with countless more besides! Ah, my friend, does he not see the tracks of tears you have cried? Does he not see that you wish to cleanse all this agony from your mind? Does he not see that you have already lost everything that mattered in your life?

"This…This is why you summoned me?" you incredulously ask, the words sputtering from your lips, "Your Majesty, it has not even been a year, surely the Princess has time to mourn before-"

"She does not have time!" Rhoam shouts, slamming fist against stone, "We do not have time! Are you so daft as to not see the signs? Calamity Ganon's resurrection is imminent! Every hour Zelda does not have her powers hastens Hyrule's fall! What unlocked your power over the lightning? I order you to tell me, as your King!"

You stumble back, mouth wide, eyebrows curving into your brow. Is this who Rhoam is now? Or was this buried in his core? And still Zelda remains terrifyingly absent, a fact that he ignores.

"Your Majesty… Where is the Princess?" You delicately ask, "If I could just speak to her, I-"

"Unfortunately, that is quite impossible," the King loudly declares, "I sent the Princess to continue her prayers at the Spring of Courage."

You glance upward and you gasp, your horror rising like bile in your throat, "You sent her all the way to Faron? By herself?!"

"Of course not," the King grunts, "I sent a full squadron of Royal Guardsmen with her. She should have no trouble with monsters, or any Yiga attack."

"But… She is your daughter! She could use you more than any-"

"Fate has regrettably made me King of Hyrule," he gruffly proclaims, eyes narrowing in irritation, "And the needs of the kingdom must take precedence over any matters of family. Besides, when the Calamity does arise, there will be nothing that I, or anyone else, can do for Zelda. The best I can do for her, and the people of Hyrule, is get her used to that. Now…" his frown deepens,"Your power, Lady Urbosa. Quickly."

You bite your tongue, and your fists shakingly clench. "Your Majesty, my power…" through gritted teeth you start…But then, with Zelda in your heart, you sigh, and push your dark thoughts away.

"Your Majesty, I request leave to travel to Faron, and speak with Zelda alone," you exhale, "Magic comes to us all in its own way. If I can speak to her directly I believe I can assist her better. Heart to heart, vai to vai."

The King's brow furrows, eyes narrowing down to slits. 'Tis though his thoughts crawl across his face like ants, all in a single file line. He aimlessly strokes his beard and speaks to himself, just barely loud enough to hear.

"Yes… this might work. She, as a woman, could understand Zelda far better than I ever could…"

He abruptly, brusquely stands, skin taut upon his cheek.

"Very well then. I have decided. You shall ride immediately to Faron and assist the Princess with her prayers. I grant you your leave, Urbosa. You may go."

King Rhoam does not see the twitch in your eyebrows, as he dismissively waves his hand…

"I wish you better fortune with the Princess than I have had, Urbosa. May you help her find her courage in that spring. Goddess knows she needs it."

And with that he turns, as if on a spit, off to the sanctum's egress. Your blood rushes through you, darkening your skin and burning your face like smoldering coals. No magic from all the land's many tongues, nor the seals of the sages, could possibly hold back, now, your wrath. Off your knees you spring and to the King's departing back you scream.

"Your Majesty, wait!"

He ignores you, words bouncing off him like timid arrows on thick plate steel. Oh, Champion, let this anger not lead you astray…

"Rhoam!" you shout, and the sanctum crackles with your rage.

He stops at once, face deep in the shadows behind the throne. I remember this moment all too well, Urbosa. I remember the anxious faces covering the court as dark clouds filled the air.

"Who are you?" you thunder, "What have you become? Where is the Rhoam who swore to make this castle a safe and caring home?"

The world itself seems to hold its breath in fear, just as the flanking guards hold their finely sharpened spears. Oh my friend, why must you be so loose of tongue? Have you forgotten this voe controls the wrath of all the sun? True, your love would have admired your willingness to fight, but now I pray with all my heart that no evil is in sight.

Thank the Goddess that Rhoam does not move, he does not say a word. After an age of silence his shoulders slump and he whispers, but no further does he turn.

"That Rhoam died with her."

Into a murky passage the King exits, into somber dusk and gloom. Like bending iron you tense, lips pursed in a raging growl. An angry roar rumbles your throat, and static shakes your spine…

But wait! The attendant Shiekah vai grabs your arm and into your livid eyes she stares.

"The King has hardly left his study in the last year," the vai with hair of freshest snow quietly confesses, "And when he does, we all can tell that he has only just wiped away his tears."

The young vai seems to think better of these words, pulling her arm away in fright, "I- I am sorry Lady Urbosa…I- I spoke out of turn. Please forgive me, My Lady."

Your rage dissipates, quickly fading into evening light. It was always like this with children, that you reached your highest heights. Though your heart screams to tear this dome apart and let your anger disappear, you speak as tamely as a priestess, no longer so severe.

"Do not worry, child," you grimly smile, "I have been much the same, I fear."

Ah, if only you saw the nervous smiles of the court. If only you heard the tense exhales of breath. Perhaps then you would pull down all the sanctum walls, and let the sky fall down instead. But, no, you must quickly ride from the castle doors, for Zelda waits ahead.

A distant thunder grasps at the night as you ride through grasslands and forests, and across Lake Hylia's mighty bridge. These are all lands that belonged to your beloved first, long before you saw her face. Her smile is in every torch at every stable scattered throughout the plains. Her hair in all the fields sowed with golden grain. And her deep green eyes are swimming in the towering jungle trees, and dripping from the vines.

But these are all places you have never been before, places no memory of her could be. Which is why, here, you remember her all the more, and why, here, you blindingly weep.

Soldiers stand on the tail of Dracozu River, attempting to block your way. Their faces are lost in the fog, like light lost in the canopy. You simply toss the Royal Sigil behind you as you pass, leaving the King's golden stamp lying as lifeless as the muddy ground beneath it, the paper promptly stained with grime.

And now here you stand in the dragon's mouth, between broken columns as old as history, and under dead roots rotting on the walls. That is the secret of the jungle, my dear Urbosa. It thrives, as it always has, on decay.

Before you is Zelda, kneeling in the sacred waters of the spring, eyes fixed on the impassive statue of the Goddess. Her hair is damp, the hands clasped at her chest are as tight as knots on the sea. Yet when she speaks her voice is as loud and as ringing as the temple bells at dawn.

"I come seeking Your holy power, which has been passed down across time…"

A pause. She knows she is not alone. She knows you stand on the stone steps of the Goddess' spring, like snow waiting on soaring mountain peaks. Oh, but her voice holds little mercy.

"My father sent you to speak with me, didn't he?"

You hesitate.

I was there too, Urbosa. I saw such feelings cross your face. I wonder, my friend, do you still believe? What do you think of the Goddess now, in this pure and holy place? Is it some type of redemption that you seek, when, at last, you open your mouth to speak?

"I asked to come."

Zelda does not move, and oh so quiet she remains. If only she knew the prayers on your tongue, that would plead for the past to change! You step into the empty silence, like an abandoned melody.

"I wished to speak with you. That is all, Princess. I swear it."

The water trembles as if from a storm, though 'tis a calm, and windless night. Zelda's anger wildly sparks, and her voice breaks out in rage.

"Don't lie to me!" Zelda shouts, "You're just like all the rest! I know, I know! I have to try harder! Everyone tells me that!"

Her eyes return to Hylia's carved effigy, and her back grows tense and cold.

"Go back to the castle," she dismisses you with a hiss, "Tell my father I would not get out of the spring. That should make him happy at least."

Ah, what a stab this is to your heart, your breath grasped by a dark and subtle thief.

"Princess…oh Princess…" you whisper, "Do you think so little of me?"

Oh, the words that sit in her silence, quiet against the rocky walls behind. Does she not know your heart? Does she not see the suffering scratched on your face? Sadly she does not, and with ever more fervor does she pray…

"I come seeking Your holy power, which has been passed down across time. Whether fallen from a holy land on high, or sailing the long and lonely seas, or sealed in the evil darkness of another world-"

I watch you clench your fists, nails burying themselves into flesh. I see the same desperation in the ghosts of bruises on Zelda's hands.

"Princess, I just want to talk to you, I promise."

Alas, your words go unheeded, and Zelda recites another line…

"I come seeking Your holy power, which has been passed down across time. In the waters of the spring that reflects Your holiness, I-"

An ache tugs at your throat, chasing you madly into the spring. Instantly you gasp and your skin prickles, spine shivering madly between.

The waters are colder than ice, Urbosa. Cold enough for blood to freeze.

"Princess, do not do this!" you hysterically shout, "Come out! Talk with me, please!"

But she only speaks even louder, waters lapping at her waist…

"I come seeking Your holy power, which has been passed down across time. Uniting earth and sky, You bring light to the land-"

How the tears swell within your eyes, your heart pressing at your face. Deeper into frigid waters you walk, icy fingers gripping like disgrace. Is this how this story will go? Will she also leave you too, alone with your memories? You are but one vai, how can you bear this terrible grief? Must this pain howl like the dead, with an endless, heartrending scream? And ever more immersed, Zelda becomes, in a fountain wrapped with weeds.

"I beg of you, Princess... Please, speak to me..."

Ah, but she turns not to you, she does not kindly reply. Her only response is to the Goddess, an imploring, lonesome cry…

"I come seeking Your holy power, which has been passed down across time!"

How your tears flood, how you wail in misery. In desperate dismay you sob, and to her shoulder do you reach.

"Stop, Princess… I can't… Just… please, just talk to me"

Away from your tender touch she runs, away from your kindness does she flee. She comes now up to her chest in the frigid waters, as if she were vanishing into the sea.

"I come seeking Your holy power, which has been passed down across time!"

With a strangled sob you fall, and oh so madly do you weep. Is there nothing left to do, Urbosa? Is there nothing left to say? Ever deeper does Zelda go and ever onward does she pray.

But then a word slips softly from your mouth, like a heavenly kind of grace. A word that brings hymns to the placid water, and fills the empty space. A word that burns across the night like the heat of distant stars. A word that falls, almost accidentally, from hard and fearsome sobs…

"Zelda..."

Her prayer stops.

In the spring you see her shiver, like seagrass swept ashore. Oh, Urbosa, how many times have you sat before those you love, your heart unheard and ignored? Will you let the truth pass by you again, for countless aching years? No more, my friend, no more. Be not ruled by fear.

"I am not here for your father… I am not here for the Goddess… I am not here for Hyrule…" you choke out amidst your tears.

Zelda turns to you, revealing remnants of the same sorrows that scar your soul. That rain down your cheeks, even now, wholly uncontrolled. The kind of shared anguish that binds the one from two. Ah, Urbosa, how your words pour out, so noble and so true…

"...I am here for you."

A silent breeze writes ripples on the spring, like sighs from spirits who smile beyond the grave. Can you see Zelda's heart succumb to the grief she thought she buried with her mother? Can you see her hands slip to her side, exhausted by prayers recited in vain? Can you see tears fill her eyes, like rain painting a sunsetting sky?

The dam bursts.

Oh, how she weeps and cries! Time slows, as if the fabric of the world were come undone, and you run to her, fastening her tight within your arms. You know what it is to be broken, too, Urbosa. You know what kind of grief rips great canyons in your mind. She buries herself in your bosom and her tears soak through to your skin. Your own fall too, like cleansing rain atop her head.

"Why can't I be her?" she pleads, "Why am I just a failure?"

"Oh Zelda…Oh my Zelda," you sigh.

"She could do anything, Urbosa! All of them could! Why is it just me? What's wrong with me?"

A lament slips out between her sobs, her voice close to fully gone.

"I miss her... I miss my momma…"

You run your hand through her hair, rocking her back and forth, "I know. I know my dear. I miss her too. I miss her every day…"

What can you do, O Champion? What comfort can you convey? What golden, hopeful dream could possibly ease both your pains?

Then, through your tears you spy, Urbosa, off to the lonely side of the spring…

A solitary Silent Princess, bright, blue and as beautiful as Minerva had ever been.

Ah, what a bolt strikes your thoughts; the Goddess has heard your plea. In your love for Minerva has the way been laid for thee.

This shall be your gift. Your gift to Minerva's memory in honor of the love you hold still in your heart. Everything in your power, everything in your soul, every last little bit, you will give it to Zelda. You will pass all the love in you to her, and be the family she so desperately needs. You will fulfill the promise you once made to Minerva, to every letter, word and line. Maybe this time you can manage to do it right. Let heaven hear your pledge, now, from a heartsick world below.

Oh Urbosa, if only you knew how much this honors her, so.

"Do you see that flower?" you whisper, and she nods with a melancholy stare.

"I know, my dear, I know. It is hard for me to see them too," you murmur, "She loved them so much, little Zelda, just as she loved you…"

How the words flow now, as if swept gently down a stream. 'Tis though holy light has loosed your tongue, caught within a dream.

"They say that love is the Goddesses' greatest gift to her people," you gently utter, as torchlight winks and beams, "That Hylia found herself through love, and that she wishes for us all to have the same."

You sigh, eyes closed in a peaceful calm, "Your mother always believed that Hylia's gift to us was not the love that she rains from above, but the love that we all share. That in loving the world, and each other, we honor the Goddess more than any tribute, sacrifice, or prayer."

Tight, you hold Zelda, like sun-drenched sand grips the rain. You sadly smile as if in a song, in a way that no words could contain.

"Find something that you love, little Zelda. It does not matter if it helps you find your power or not. I promise, whatever it is, I will help you love it freely. I promise I will always be there, standing at your side, and I promise that you will always be safe with me. And when, one day, you do find that love, I promise it will bring you what you need…"

Your voice slides to a whisper, like a flower gone to seed. Ah, Urbosa, let the truth come out, so soft and sweet and free…

"...Just the way your mother did for me."

The darkness lifts; has your confession made you whole? Into your eyes Zelda looks, peering deep within your soul. Feel love and grief mix in your heart, as your vision clouds with tears. She sees the truth lying in your blood, Urbosa, and your eternal love, so clear.

Zelda dives into your chest with a sob, like waves on rocky shores. Your tears meet with hers upon your breast, in a river's rushing pour. No more vows can you give, Urbosa, no more words can you speak. Overcome with so much feeling, you are, but this is not defeat. Pull sweet Zelda in your arms once more, in the most heavenly embrace. I see that, together, in all the many years to come, you shall find thy holy place.

Tales will be told of this moment, you know, erelong they will unfold. How mighty Urbosa came to stand before Zelda when she was desperate, crying and cold. How you rescued all of Hyrule on that damp autumn morn, when you stepped like a savior in the spring of Farore.

But none of those tales, no matter how finely imbued, whether told by poet or bard or minstrel or muse, will ever quite be entirely true. For, while they will so eloquently sing of how you saved sweet Zelda, they will not speak of how she saved you.

The sun begins its glorious rise, carrying your promise to heaven as it climbs the skies. A promise born of the sweetest few words that any Goddess or God has ever heard...

"Oh Zelda…Oh my Little Bird…"