Hi, Ancalagon! It's great to hear you've stuck with me this long, and I'm really glad you enjoy the writing! I guess I'll have to keep posting those patch notes, too. ;)

Chapter 10: Ghirahim

Link pushed aside a heavy, whippy branch, ducking past it quickly before letting it swish back into place behind him with a shuddering rustle. He'd started to come across tilted, often largely buried flagstones here and there a short way back, something Fi had noted indicated they were most probably near to their destination. At last, the sight ahead gave him a much-needed boost of energy: an overgrown stone building still raising most of an ornate roof towards the sky, mostly-intact steps leading up towards it, another squarish bird statue at their foot.

Link paused briefly to stare at it, comparing it to the kikwi elder's description of the "dangerous temple". It seemed to match, and even as he decided that it did, Fi appeared in front of him.

"Master Link, I detect Zelda's aura emanating from within this structure. However, I also detect the presence of a significant number of lifeforms either warped or created by demonic forces. There is a strong aura of evil within the temple, which must have accumulated or been introduced since the raising of Skyloft."

Link swallowed. More fighting, more monstrosities? But… Zelda was in there, and the determination to find her before something else could overrode all else. He'd go in, whatever it took. He'd just have to be as careful as he knew how.

"It is wise that you do not display overconfidence, Master." Had she noticed? He supposed he hadn't really tried to hide his reaction from her. "Within the walls of the temple complex, it is highly unlikely that any individual other than perhaps Zelda will come to your aid. You must consider your state of readiness carefully. Please assess the probability that you will require additional equipment beyond that which you carry, that you are able to obtain."

Link nodded, taking several moments to think about it. Thankfully, he hadn't yet needed the medicines that Headmaster Gaepora had given him. His shield was gouged and splintered, but not severely: it was in no urgent need of repair. The Goddess Sword seemed impervious to damage, even though he'd caught several of the bokoblins' crude and chipped blades with its razor-sharp edge. He was somewhat weary from making his way through the seemingly endless forest, alert to every strange sound and every sight and sound something new and strange, but that couldn't be helped. He even had Bucha's decorated slingshot. Other than running a little low on water, he was probably about as prepared as he could reasonably expect to be.

"I think I'm ready. I don't know what else I would need."

Fi nodded, once, her blank eyes somehow holding his gaze. "Based on my prior observation of the equipment available to you in Skyloft, I agree with your assessment, Master."

Her approval, if the emotionless words could be called that, felt somehow reassuring.

Fi turned, gesturing elegantly to the bird statue. "My analysis indicates that this statue will respond to you as the previous one did. The statue that you encountered previously would have been of limited use to you, however, due to its location beneath thick tree cover. Only a statue in or near to a large open space can serve its intended purpose."

"What purpose?" Link asked, a little hesitantly. "What are the statues for?"

"They were originally simple idols erected in honour of the goddess, identical to those that still serve the same purpose upon Skyloft," Fi explained. "Prior to the raising of Skyloft, the goddess empowered them further, to aid those she had chosen. One who is bonded to a Loftwing may use the statue to amplify a summons to his bird. Only when summoned in this way will a Loftwing be able to briefly penetrate the cloud barrier."

Link gasped as the import sank in. "So – we can go back to Skyloft?" He'd been putting off thinking about it, but he'd known, even before he'd landed, that there might be no way back. It had already been too late, the decision made – and even if there was no way back, even if he had known that for certain before ever taking wing to search for Zelda, he would still have made the same decision. He couldn't have left her lost and alone, maybe hurt, maybe dead, no matter what it cost him.

"That is correct, Master. Were you not fully prepared at this present time, I would recommend that you do so now. However, the amount of time that the journey would cost you would be significant."

Link nodded. "And we don't have time. Zelda's in there." And when I find her… we can go home. Everything else that had happened hung over him, and he knew he couldn't ignore it. But, if he could only find Zelda, they could return to the safety of Skyloft; to the knowledge of the headmaster and the other teachers; and work out together what it all meant and what they should do.

Fi nodded, and returned to his sword as he walked up the crumbling steps towards the heavy doors at the top. Weatherworn and pitted, he could just about make out what seemed to be an emblem of a rising bird engraved upon them, with deeper hollows here and there perhaps once sockets for decorations long missing. Fresh scuffs on the mossy flagstones suggested the doors had been opened recently, and Link's hope flickered brighter. Whatever reason had sent Zelda into the half-ruined temple, she was there, and he'd almost found her.

Taking a deep breath, Link gripped the leftmost door, dragging it open on squealing hinges until there was enough of a gap to slip through. It began, very slowly, to shut behind him, grating across the stone. At least, he supposed, that probably meant that the bokoblins in the forest weren't likely to follow either him or Zelda inside...

. . .

The temple – or temple complex, as Fi had said – was bigger than he'd fully realised from the outside, musty and gloomy, invaded throughout by branches, roots, and tumbled soil, faintly glowing mushrooms sprouting here and there and providing a faint kind of half-light in the lower levels: not enough to really see by, but enough to discern the edges of things in soft and muted grey. Link was quickly very glad he'd been given a lantern among his general equipment, particularly after the building proved to be partially flooded as well as half-buried. Without the light, and without Fi's calm warnings, he'd likely have opened at least one barred door best left closed, and unleashed a torrent of water on himself.

His light had its disadvantages as well, however. It seemed as if just about everything aggressive in the temple complex was drawn to it: keese just like the ones that occasionally went evid and attacked people on Skyloft; giant and armoured spiders as the kikwis had warned him; bokoblins with sickly green skin and large dark eyes that Fi said had likely developed from their spending generations upon generations living in the darkness underground. Even a few of the horrifying predatory plants had taken root inside, yellow from lack of sunlight but still surviving on a diet of the building's other denizens, and attacked him as he passed.

In a large circular hall, welcome daylight streaming down from what seemed to be an intended opening high above, Link ventured through the half-open door of the almost bulb-shaped chamber in its centre. It was a single room, large enough to be a classroom, damaged by time and doubtless by the temple's inhabitants, with what seemed to be heavy chests and display stands or tables around its edges. A heap of bones lay towards the back, limbs uncomfortably long, the round skull uncomfortably sized. Was it… human?

Link ventured closer, and as he did, the door creaked shut behind him with ominous finality. He glanced back over his shoulder, shocked – then forwards again as a dry rattle caught and held his attention, eyes fixed on the impossible horror before him. The dry old bones were moving, almost seeming to pull themselves together into a form, joints clicking into position, jawbone sliding into place lopsided for a few moments before righting itself, and an uncanny light glowed within the formerly empty eye sockets. Link stared, frozen, as the skeletal figure drew itself up, then turned from him with a horrible deliberateness to pick up a pair of mismatched swords that had lain nearby, both two-handed blades that it hefted as if they weighed nothing.

Master. Once again Fi's impossibly calm melodic voice sounded in his mind, far faster than the words could have been spoken. This is a Stalfos, the animated skeleton of an individual long deceased. The majority of Stalfos, like this one, are animated by magical forces and carry no remnant of the deceased's spirit or experiences in life. The skeleton of a pacifist will display equal combat ability to the skeleton of an experienced warrior when animated in this fashion. Seek to exploit momentary weaknesses in its guard without lowering your own. In order to prevent reanimation, the bones must be damaged beyond usability.

The sudden rush of information jolted Link back to his senses as the Stalfos approached. It was a little taller than him, perhaps, in a fighter's stance not too dissimilar to some he'd learnt at the Academy. He drew his sword, faintly glowing despite the light that filtered down from above, and dropped into one of his own, backing away a few paces and circling to avoid putting his back to the wall, watching what it did over the rim of his shield. It moved as swiftly as the living as it came towards him, though not as fluidly, unnatural motions slightly too jerky. Just outside striking range, it raised its guard, twin blades held at angles no living arm could have managed in order to shield itself from attack.

It struck first, the heavy sword striking with impossible strength, splintering deep into the rim of his shield when he blocked and almost knocking him off his feet as it yanked its sword back. Even when the instructors weren't watching, not even Groose hit that hard! For a moment, as it it did, its other sword was out of position, and somehow Link forced himself to attack, a quick lunge that splintered brittle ribs and leaping quickly back, some part of him still barely able to believe this was happening.

It wasn't enough; the skeletal figure seemed completely unaffected by the damage as it closed on him again. Uncomfortably aware of the damage his shield had suffered from just one blow, Link tried to back away, but it pressed forward more quickly, drawing its other sword jerkily back – was there a chance there, just for a moment? – and slashing at him once again, fast and frighteningly accurate, forcing him to take the blow on his increasingly splintering shield. Instead of pulling back, it struck again with its other sword, a move no real fighter would have wanted to make, and Link yelled in pain as the blow battered the shining Goddess Sword aside to hit his shoulder. His block had taken the worst of the force from it, and even so – but he forced himself to react, a moment late as it was pulling back, to strike with all the strength he could still muster despite the pain, his blade chipping its upper arm and leaving cracks through the ancient bone as he and it leapt away from each other.

The Stalfos' glowing eye sockets regarded him impassively. It lifted its swords back into another unnatural guard position with a faint, dry cracking sound, and the arm he had hit abruptly gave way, falling immobile to the floor, fingerbones scattering everywhere. Other than adjusting its block, the Stalfos didn't even seem to notice the loss of its right arm.

This time, Link closed on it, trying to gain the initiative before it could. The Stalfos blocked, once, twice, then drew back its remaining sword to strike, and as it did, Link seized his chance, shining blade slicing diagonally through the ribs of its unguarded right side and into the spine with an awful brittle cracking sound! It wavered for an instant, frozen, then began its swing even as it began to collapse, falling as it moved so that his cracked shield, placed to block, was too high – the sword slammed into the side of his leg before he could pull back, badly-angled but still powerful enough to knock his leg from under him! Link collapsed with a cry; half-rolled, half-scrabbled panickedly away, pulling himself further from the tumbled bones, not daring to take his eyes from them. The light in the eye sockets faded briefly, then, to his horror, began to brighten again-

Master. Strike!

Somehow, Link obeyed her: twisted and used his good leg to force himself into a leap as the skeleton began to pick its fractured self back up; to bring his flawlessly sharp sword down point-first into and through its skull before it could lift its remaining arm, shattering it even as he collapsed sideways, injured leg refusing to bear his weight even in a kneel.

His face was almost in the pile of bones, and abruptly, reflexively, he rolled away, still keeping hold of his sword. The light in the broken skull was gone, and there was no more motion but his own, no sound other than his rapid, increasingly shaky breathing.

"I-is it – is it – dead?" he managed.

The magic that animated the Stalfos has dissipated now that its structural cohesion has been lost, Fi confirmed.

"Can you – can you…?" He couldn't finish the request, but perhaps she understood it anyway, as she appeared before him, vaulting with her usual easy agility from the sword to 'land' just above the ground in front of him. After a moment, she bent her legs, approximating a graceful kneel as she lowered her face somewhat nearer to his level.

"I am able to project myself at any time, Master Link, although it is inadvisable in combat. Does this appearance calm you?"

He nodded, wordlessly. The spirit who lived in the sword she'd told him to claim was a strange, incomprehensible thing, but in this dark place, with all its terrors, she was an ally.

"That is satisfactory." She looked him up and down, her blank gaze seeming to linger on his shoulder, on his leg. Silence reigned for a few somehow calming moments before she broke it again.

"Your condition is not satisfactory, Master. The injuries you have sustained are not fatal, but they will decrease your capability. I calculate a reduction of up to 40% in your combat performance even following rest. I recommend that you immediately utilise the medications provided to you."

"Y...Yeah." Gritting his teeth, Link pushed himself up, leaving sword and shield temporarily on the floor and keeping his weight on his right arm until he was sitting stably. Fi watched, impassive, as he fumbled briefly with his belt pouches, still using his off hand: his left shoulder seemed to ache more with every breath he took. Finally he had the medicine: a red elixir in a glass bottle doubtless reused countless times, plain familiar colour almost reassuring. Everyone at the Knight Academy had had their share of mishaps, and the healing magic of the concoctions was a welcome fallback they had always been able to rely on. Link struggled briefly to extract the cork, and drank the faintly bitter medicine in a few swift gulps. He was never entirely sure whether he liked or disliked the flavour, but he'd never argue with the effects. After just a couple of breaths, a wave of cool well-being seemed to spread through him, soothing the pain as it healed the injuries that had caused it. He sighed in quiet relief, a little more tension leaving him.

Fi 'stood' as he looked back to her, still just slightly above the ground. She turned slowly on the spot, a little eerily since she made no move to cause the rotation, looking around the room. Picking up sword and shield again, Link scrambled back to his feet, faintly relieved when the motion caused no lingering twinges of pain, and joined her in looking around, glancing periodically back at the crumbled bones and rusted swords that were all that remained of the Stalfos.

"Master, I detect a faint power source within the ancient chest situated against the wall at fifty-eight degrees clockwise to your current orientation."

Link looked, guessing he had to have got the angle about right when Fi didn't correct him. The chest there looked as ancient and crumbly as the others, but it didn't appear to have rotted to the point of collapse as some of them had.

"Analysis suggests that multiple ancient devices may have been stored here," Fi continued, "but that most have deteriorated or been broken to the point of disuse. The remaining power source may be worth investigation."

"Right." Link approached, cautiously, stopping before the low chest and once again glancing back at the Stalfos' remains. "You don't think anything will happen if I open this, do you?"

Fi tilted her head sideways, perhaps considering briefly. "I do not detect any magical or mechanical sensors observing the chest, Master. It is my assessment that it is safe to attempt to open it. Analysis shows that the material of its construction has decayed significantly. The lock will not hinder you in investigating the contents."

"Here goes, then…" Link sheathed his sword, slipped his battered shield back onto his back, and reached out to the chest, at first just touching the sides of the lid as if to lift it. The wood felt light under his hands, almost spongy, and flaked away when he dug an experimental fingertip into it. Trying one last thing before resigning himself to the damage, he tried to lift the lid by its metal frame, but failed, the rusted lock still, apparently, locked, and probably rusted that way permanently. Giving up, he cautiously scraped at the front of the lid with his fingertips, pulling away flakes and dust; finally putting his hand through once there was a hole large enough to admit it and pulling.

Almost the entire front of the lid collapsed outwards in a sad shower of dust and rotten wood fragments, some falling on the stone floor, some within the remains of the chest. Link peered in, as did Fi, floating beside him. Dulled metal gleamed faintly back in the weak sunlight that filtered down from above, and he hesitantly reached in to lift out his prize.

Seeing it in the light made it at once more and less comprehensible. Almost the full length of his forearm and nearly as wide, it appeared to be a statue of a beetle perched atop a sort of tubular clasp, oversized mandibles both hinged as if to grip and sharpened to a cutting edge. It had shone like metal, but holding it in his hands, Link could tell it was far too light to be any such thing, made of no materials he recognised, detailed and intricate.

"Analysis of this object indicates that it is capable of flight," Fi told him emotionlessly. Link looked up at her, confused.

"You mean… really fly? It's not just a statue of a beetle?" If it had been anyone else, he'd have thought it was an obvious joke, but Fi was always so perfectly serious.

"That is correct. It is currently mounted atop a control unit, which will attach to your arm. When the 'beetle', as you call it, is in flight, it may be assumed that the screen of the control unit will display its progress." She looked at Link, perhaps considering. "If you wish to test the device, Master, attach the control unit to your arm with the 'beetle' facing towards your hand."

Perhaps the best way to understand what Fi was talking about was to try it. Link turned, putting his back to the ruined chest and the wall behind it, and carefully investigated the clasp, sliding it open just enough to fit his right forearm through and tightening it until it fit snugly. Fi offered no comment until he was done, the strangely light beetle statue sitting atop his arm like some very odd jewellery.

"You have successfully attached the control unit. Note that there are two buttons at the rear, which you are able to press. The leftmost one will ready the 'beetle' for takeoff. Once it is ready, the rightmost will launch or recall it."

Left, then right, Link thought. He could see the two buttons easily enough, and pressed the left one, flinching when something inside the beetle clicked and then buzzed, settling from a distant beehive to an almost inaudible hum. A tiny light blinked into being on its rear end, flickering on and off like a sickly firefly.

"The power supply is almost depleted, which is to be expected considering the conditions in which it was stored," Fi noted. "Exposure to sunlight or a directed magical field will serve to recharge it. However, enough power remains for a demonstration flight."

It made just enough sense that he believed her, even the parts where he wasn't entirely sure what she meant. There were a few ancient devices on and around the islands, scavenged and cannibalised and patched together to repair one another repeatedly until none of them looked quite like whatever they had originally been. The rickety Airshop was probably the most famous melange of such parts, kept aloft partly by who-knew-what and partly by sheer doggedness and pedal power on the part of its owner. They said I couldn't augment a failing power supply, but kid, if you try hard enough, you can do anything. Link wasn't actually sure that effectively running more miles than most birds flew all day every single day was worth it when Beedle could have just moved a bit more slowly and transported his wares on the back of his Loftwing like everyone else, but it clearly was to Beedle, and he couldn't argue with that.

"Is it ready?" he asked.

"The flashing light indicates that is the case, as well as denoting the low-power state," Fi said. She at least didn't sound as though she expected that to be obvious.

Link held his breath and pressed the right-hand button. With a click and a little jolt, the beetle statue abruptly opened its shining wingcases to extend what appeared to be wings in a blur of motion, just like a real beetle, and in the same instant lifted off his arm! Link stared as it began to fly forwards across the room, keeping to a straight line.

"Observe the screen on the control unit," Fi prompted, and Link looked down at his arm. Where the beetle had rested, a flat surface showed – he looked up, then down again in surprise – showed the room, but from the beetle's eye view! He could see the wall across the room getting ever closer in the tiny window on the back of his arm.

"That's amazing…"

"Regrettably, even if the instruction manual was correctly stored with the item, it would doubtless have decayed centuries previously. However, observations indicate that the screen is sensitive to touch. Use this to direct the 'beetle''s flight. Simply move your finger across the screen in the direction that you require the 'beetle' to turn."

Uh… The wall was getting closer quite quickly, and although he still wasn't entirely sure what Fi was instructing him to do, Link hesitantly touched the image – cool and flat as glass – and moved his finger to the left. Obediently, the beetle turned, the image tilting as its flight angle changed, and he gasped softly in amazement. It turned away from the wall, kept turning until he lifted his finger away, leaving it headed back in his general direction. He could see himself, even see Fi, impassively observing.

"Whoa…"

A few moments later, a kind of metallic squeak sounded from the device on his arm, making him jump again, and words in the archaic but recognisable spelling all old devices seemed to use appeared across the screen. [LOW POWER DETECTED. RETURNING TO CONTROL UNIT. RECHARGE REQUIRED.] The beetle changed course, heading towards a point just above his head, and touching the image no longer seemed to have any effect.

"Master, hold your arm level and stationary. This will permit the 'beetle' to land."

Link held his right arm out obediently, trying not to move as he looked up. Light or not, the beetle, wings buzzing, suddenly looked very big, hovering directly above his head. It moved slightly, then began to descend, until it had landed on his arm with barely a jar. There was a click, and the buzzing ceased, the light on its rear winking out. He touched it experimentally with his left hand, but it was securely held in place, once more attached to its clasp – its control unit.

"This… this is amazing."

Fi said nothing.

"...Can I ask you something?"

"Of course, Master."

"You say 'beetle' strangely, like that's not the right word. What… what do you want to call it, I guess?"

"It is a remote aerial unit with semi-autonomous return functionality for precision operation and item retrieval at a distance." Fi paused. "There is no rapidly comprehensible way to summarise its identity and purpose. I shall therefore adopt the designation of 'beetle' that you have given it."

Link nodded, smiling a little. "All right." He hesitated for a moment. "And it's all right if we keep it?"

Fi nodded. "From the advanced state of decay of the box it was kept in, I conclude that its most recent owner died centuries ago. There can be no surviving claim to the item, and the probability of it being of use to you in the future approaches 100%."

"Okay." That made sense, Link supposed. There hadn't been anything in this building smarter than the bokoblins. Fi was right, it was completely abandoned. "Do you think it's safe to put in my belt pouch?" He unfastened the clasp and slipped his arm out of it as he spoke, looking at it. Huge and unwieldy, there was no way it would be possible to use his shield and wear the beetle mounted on its control unit at the same time.

Again, Fi nodded. "Magical item storage will cause no damage to any of its functionality. Keeping it in this space is recommended."

Link looked down to his belt, fiddling with the clasps for a moment and bringing the mechanical beetle close to the opening of the pouch he'd picked. It seemed to shrink, or almost recede, as if moving rapidly further and further away without really going anywhere at all. All at once, it fit inside, and Link let go and closed the flap. It hadn't felt as though it had changed size under his fingers, either. Nothing ever did.

. . .

Link's exploration had eventually led him to a door half-concealed behind what had probably once been an ornate screen, yet large and decorated, as if it were something at once both important and private. Here and there, he'd seen signs of other fights: a bokoblin already dead when he arrived; the curled corpses of a pair of the gigantic armoured spiders Fi had called skulltulas, stating that they were probably named for the skull-like patterns of their carapace. Zelda had been here before him, she had to have been, and the thought had given him renewed strength. He pushed the door open and stepped through into a round antechamber beyond.

A flash of darkness followed by golden light filled his vision before he could even take in what else lay within the room, and Link snapped his arm up to shield his eyes, blinking away tears and afterimages as rapidly as he could to try and peer over his hand at wherever that light had come from.

Standing before a golden archway ahead, filled with an ornate golden panel, was a human-like figure, holding a deadly-looking subtly curved sword out behind himself at arms' length. Behind the high collar of his red cape, a fall of perfectly straight white hair swept away from an exposed ear with a large blue crystal earring. His skin was grey, and beneath the cape he seemed to be wearing some kind of skintight white outfit with diamond-shaped holes cut out of it that displayed more grey, well-muscled flesh. The figure bent slightly, tensing his arm and twisting as if about to take a swing at the golden panel before him with his sword, which was radiating an aura of blackness that twisted Link's stomach to look at – but then the figure froze.

Link stared as the dark metal of the stranger's sword became darker still, became blackness that dissolved into diamond shards into nothing; as he took a single step back, lowering his arms to his sides and spoke.

"Look who it is…" His voice was smooth and cold and somehow cruelly anticipatory. He turned, revealing his face: grey as the rest of him, white hair falling across the left side, swept back on the right. The only colour to him was a rich streak of purple beneath his visible eye: even his lips were an unnatural, perfect white.

"And you've found a new pet." He gave a small sound of amusement, somehow chilling, almost archaic accent making him sound even more mockingly formal. "Isn't that the boy who almost flew right into my tornado? I would have thought it would have tossed and torn you apart… yet here you are. Not in pieces."

'My' tornado? Link stared at him, and the stranger sighed languidly, looking back to the golden panel.

"Not that your life or death has any consequence. It's just the girl that matters now, and I can sense her here, just beyond this door."

"The girl? Zelda?!" Link found his voice in an urgent, angry demand.

"Yes, I plucked Her 'Grace' from her perch in the clouds, and now she's mine." His voice didn't change tone even slightly, and he laughed, lazily. "Oh, but listen to me. I'm being positively uncivil. Allow me to introduce myself." He paused for effect, tossing his head though he didn't turn around. "I am the Demon Lord who presides over this land you look down upon, this world your people fled in terror. You may call me Ghirahim."

"In truth," Ghirahim continued, dragging out the words slightly, "I very much prefer to be indulged with my full title: Lord Ghirahim. But I'm not fussy."

Lord Ghirahim. A demon lord. And he… he's after Zelda! Link swallowed, forcing himself to reach back for sword and shield. This demon, a real demon, was hunting his friend – and there was just one door between him and her. One door, and Link himself. Fi! He could feel the power in the Goddess Sword as his hand closed about its hilt, Fi's silent presence still without a 'spoken' response.

"Did you really just draw your sword?" Ghirahim asked rhetorically. "Foolish boy." At last, he turned back to face Link, spreading his empty hands wide and smiling with an imperious arrogance mingled with cruel anticipation. "Don't think you can stop me. By all rights, the girl should have fallen into our hands already." Link stared, unnerved, as the demon lord bowed his head, twisting his hands in overwrought distress. "She was nearly mine when something… no doubt those loathsome servants of the goddess… snatched her away. Do you have any idea how that made me feel?" He almost seemed to claw at the air, his motions like a parody of themselves, and the light in the room seemed to dim with his fury, gesturing wildly as if slamming his fists onto and through an imaginary table. "Furious! Outraged! Sick with anger!"

As he shouted the last words, he vanished in a flicker of fading diamonds. His voice, maliciously calm again, seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere as Link turned, looking wildly from side to side for a foe who wasn't there in the suddenly shadowy antechamber.

"But I forgot. You don't have any of those feelings, do you? You just wouldn't understand. Well, I'll explain it to you, just this once. You see, this turn of events has left me with a strong appetite for bloodshed." The soft, cruel laugh was only just audible, and yet it seemed to fill Link's mind. Fear was rising in him like an overwhelming storm, a certainty of something he couldn't confront.

In the next instant, he heard a soft footstep from behind him in the same moment that the demon lord's face peered suddenly, terrifyingly, over his left shoulder, his sickening presence close against his back. Link froze, paralysed, as Ghirahim murmured almost into his ear.

"Still, it hardly seems fair, being of my position, to take all of my anger out on such a new pet. Which is why I promise up front not to murder him…"

Some impulse finally broke through the almost desolate fear engulfing him, and Link gasped and jerked away, staggering several paces and turning as the demon lord laughingly continued.

"No, I'll just beat him within an inch of his life!"

He laughed and laughed as Link braced himself to fight, the fabric of his jagged cape dissolving into nothingness, the sword he'd held before rematerialising in his right hand, the motion of his hair as he threw his head back momentarily revealing a black diamond beneath his left eye like an uncanny teardrop.

"Fi? Fi!" Link hissed under his breath, trying to direct a thought to her as he would to his Loftwing. What do you know about him? Does he know you?

The response was sudden even for her, a cascade of toneless thought so flatly rapid that even her usual musicality was absent.

This is the demon Ghirahim. He is a master of sword combat. Speech analysis indicates he possesses absolute confidence in his own abilities. Analysis of his aura corroborates his words, indicating that he does not intend to use his true capabilities in this battle.

He's toying with us, Link thought, gritting his teeth as the slightly taller demon advanced, slow and casual with sword held forward in a guard pose and his empty left hand raised as though he might block with it. The glove on it must have dissolved with his cape, though he'd kept the one on the other hand. I can't stay still. Link backed away, and Ghirahim laughed.

"You can't run away from me now, boy."

I'm not going to, Link thought, but he said nothing, all his attention focused on his pursuer's motions. Every step the demon took was deliberately casual, cool amusement in his faint smile. They were no more than three paces from one another when Link abruptly darted forward to attack, Ghirahim blocking with lightning speed and countering with a fluidity that would have been mesmerising if Link had been an audience and not a target. He blocked and blocked again under the sudden flurry of blows, shield and sword alike pressed into service, until suddenly he saw the hint of an opening and struck without conscious thought-

Ghirahim ducked low and leapt back, landing several paces away with eerily perfect poise. "Hm. Interesting. Perhaps you're not completely dull after all." He snapped his fingers, and a line of spinning knives appeared before him, shimmering faintly with a red-black and evil aura. A quick gesture flung them, all of them at once, and Link leapt sideways, shield raised, so that only the leftmost hit and that only to embed itself in his increasingly battered shield. Moments later, it dissolved in diamond shards, leaving only the crack it had made as evidence of its existence.

I can't let- Even as he was still framing the concept, Ghirahim dashed towards him, light-footed and almost inhumanly fast, and Link just barely managed a desperate block with the Goddess Sword, the two blades ringing against one another with a force that almost threw him from his feet, Fi's blue-white glow shining against Ghirahim's sword's black aura. He staggered back, and of course Ghirahim followed, pressing him relentlessly while he was off-balance-

A stinging pain scored across his right leg as the demon lord's sword finally found its way around his shield, but instead of pressing the advantage further, Ghirahim leapt back again, cruel smile just beginning to reach his eyes.

"First blood to me, of course. Still, he's better than I expected. Shall we see just how much he can take?"

He had to be talking to Fi, but she said nothing. Link tested his leg by stepping forwards onto it, forcing back the pain with desperate resolve and charging his opponent, clinging to the slim hope that he might catch him off-guard while he was speaking. Ghirahim blocked his blade again, and again – and then stabbed with the speed of a striking snake; Link barely saw it coming, could only half-dodge, just enough that the blow sliced through his tunic and scraped across his chainmail rather than piercing his shoulder as he knew it had been meant to, and he leapt back, panting, as Ghirahim withdrew his sword.

Abruptly, the demon vanished in a scatter of vanishing diamond shards. Link jumped sideways, turning, remembering all too clearly how he'd appeared behind him just moments before, proved right as in the next instant the shards reappeared and reformed into the grey-skinned figure just a single pace beyond where he had been standing. If he hadn't moved, he would have been exactly behind him. Link struck again, hardly thinking, subconsciously hoping the teleport had cost Ghirahim some brief moment of disorientation – but the demon once again caught the blow on his blade, a quick twist flicking Link's sword aside, but his left side was still open and Link slipped his blade around faster than he ever had, slicing down-

The Goddess Sword jarred to a stop, and Link's blood turned briefly to ice, stunned by shock and a strange, visceral revulsion. Somehow, impossibly, Ghirahim had caught the sacred blade between the first and second fingers of his bare left hand, a dark aura just like his sword's blazing against Fi's blue-white. In another moment, he had yanked it from Link's nerveless grip, flipping it in the air to catch the hilt in his hand.

"You wouldn't know it, but this is quite the sword you have here." There was a subtle tension in Ghirahim's voice that hadn't been there before, and for all his coolly casual tone, the intensity of the duelling auras around the Goddess Sword's hilt spoke of a vicious battle. "But so long as you keep telegraphing your attacks like the novice you are, you'll never so much as land a blow on me." Ghirahim drew back his hand as the echoes of sensation coalesced into a moment of understanding: Link recognised the motion as a throw; recognised a bitter and silent struggle of utter opposition, and he couldn't even have said whether it was Fi or himself who struck with a last bolt of reserved strength as Ghirahim threw the sword, spoiling his aim; couldn't have said who it was who moved slightly to the side and raised his shield arm outwards so that the Goddess Sword sheared straight through the wood but missed his arm, embedded up to its hilt so briefly as he let the impact spin him, left hand drawing it back from the shield as he turned and running even as he completed the motion to strike Ghirahim, who looked up from studying his left hand just in time to see him coming and began to block – but in that one fluid moment Link knew what he had seen and changed his own angle of attack, dipping below his foe's blade and finally, finally striking home!

The blow that would have severely injured a human opened a shallow cut in Ghirahim's grey skin, and the demon lord staggered back, as much in shock as in pain. He straightened, levelling his sword to point at Link, a quick swipe of his hand brushing the slight disarray from his fall of white hair, momentary anger giving way to a tone of slight, superior surprise.

"Well… You put up more of a fight than I would have thought possible for such a soft boy. But don't applaud yourself just yet. That sword you're carrying is the only reason you still live." He shifted his stance without relaxing, keeping his guard up. "Still, you've surprised me. That's more than the goddess' dogs manage. So I'll permit you this leniency, just this once." His visible eye never wavered from Link's. "I fear that during the time I spent toying with you, the girl's aura has all but faded from this place. There's no reason for either of us to linger here." He sighed melodramatically. "So this is good-bye, sky child. Run and play this time. Get in my way again, though… and if you're lucky, you'll be dead."

Ghirahim straightened, sweeping his sword in a circle before him and vanishing in a final scatter of diamond shards as the blade finished its arc. The shadow faded from the room, leaving it once again illuminated by what looked like evening sunlight from the roof above, and the oppressive sense of the place finally lifted. Link looked around warily before slowly lowering his guard, weariness and pain seeping back into his mind from wherever they had been as he fought.

He was limping noticeably as he crossed to the golden door that Ghirahim had been trying to break open. Zelda had been on the other side… and he had at least bought her time to escape.

Patch Notes:
- Keese now a species of bat particularly sensitive to corruption by evil or unnatural influences, resulting in the "evid" condition, bearing a rough magical similarity to the effects of rabies, although not usually transmissible to other beings. Contrary to the occasional urban myth, bats that always suicidally divebomb any living being approaching do not survive to continue the species, and would be extinct.
- Ghirahim's dialogue adjusted according to plot threads continued from the backstory.
- Level design adjusted closer to realistic building design and landscape constraints.
- Beetle given a specific in-character control mechanism.