Chapter 18: The Wall's Maw (PT2)

The world dissolved into a thick, suffocating fog. Images flickered at the edges – the glint of sunlight on metal, the grotesque feast on the cobblestones, the chilling laughter of the Bokoblin's – but they were distant, muted, like a dream through a veil.

Noah's mind, once a whirlwind of thoughts, strategies, and anxieties, had become a barren wasteland. No pleas for help formed on his lips, no desperate plan to escape flickered in his head. His body, a heavy, foreign shell, refused to obey any command. It just… existed. Aching, heaving, a broken vessel tossed on a relentless storm.

Tears streamed down his face, salty and hot, but the effort to register the sensation was too much. His throat constricted with incoherent noises, a primal sound devoid of meaning, a symphony of despair conducted by a broken conductor.

The stench of death, once overpowering, was now a dull thrum in the background. The screams of the caged humans, once a harrowing chorus, were a distant drone. All sensation, all perception, was dulled, filtered through a thick layer of apathy.

What was it like, to not be able to think? Or conjure thoughts, or control emotions? This, this was the absence of humanity. It was a descent into a primal state, where instinct reigned and reason crumbled. In this suffocating fog, the very essence of who he was stripped away.

He was vaguely aware of hushed voices, but the words swam in his head, indistinct and meaningless.

A vague awareness flickered – a shadow detaching itself from the blurry scene before him. It moved closer, its form shifting and coalescing. But the effort to focus on it, to identify it, was too much. It remained a formless spectre, a nameless terror in the periphery of his non-existent thoughts.

Suddenly, a searing pain erupted in his head, a white-hot star exploding in the emptiness. His body lurched, a spasmodic jerk as if struck by lightning. The world went dark, the fog in his mind solidifying into an impenetrable black curtain. The last sensation he registered was a sense of falling, a descent into a bottomless abyss.

Then, blessed oblivion.

Christa's voice, a ragged gasp escaping her lips, shattered the suffocating silence. "Did you...?"

Neph cut her off with a curt shake of a head that sent a fiery strand of hair whipping across her cheek. "No, but I should have. Hush, they're almost through the barricade."

The iron door shuddered with a reverberating clang against the stacked wooden barrels barricading the door, the sound scraping against the already frayed nerves of the two. Christa clutched her Boko Bow tighter, the wood damp with sweat.

Those Bokoblin's will tear through those barrels like wet parchment." Neph muttered, her voice barely a whisper. Her gaze flickered to Noah, now a crumpled mess in the corner, his ragged breaths echoing in the cramped space.

His outburst must have drawn attention. Regardless, he'd forced her hand when he wouldn't calm down, threatening to bring the entire fortress down on them. The image of their usually boisterous companion reduced to such a state gnawed at Neph.

It illogically reminded her of her snivelling little brother. How long had it been since she'd seen him? How many birthdays had she missed because of her adventuring life?

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Christa spoke, her voice shaky. "What do you think set him off like that?"

With a weary sigh, Neph refocused and admitted, "It's hard to say." Her eyes darted towards the crude slats, offering a glimpse of the courtyard through the battered door but it offered little answers.

"There are hundreds of Knights stationed here," Neph continued, her voice dropping to a grim whisper. "He probably saw..." She paused, the weight of the unspoken truth hanging heavy in the air. "...what became of them."

Suddenly, a bone-chilling roar echoed through the room, followed by sickening thumps and the unmistakable crunch of splintering wood. The barrels. They were giving way.

Christa's eyes widened in terror. "We need to get out of here!" she exclaimed; her voice laced with urgency. "There's only one exit!"

Neph nodded, a grim resolve settling on her features. Without Noah as their frontline, a direct fight was a gamble. "There has to be another way out," she muttered, her hand instinctively going for the worn leather satchel at her hip. Panic threatened to flood her, but she pushed it down. They were in this together, as always.

"We never get a break, do we?" she said with a rueful smile, pulling out a vial filled with a clear, shimmering liquid. "Our team... our friends were murdered. I used to think we were lucky to be kidnapped... but now? Not so sure."

"The Goddess works in mysterious ways, Neph. These trials will become evidence of our strength and persistence. We'll stand in the light someday, and her embrace will be all the sweeter for it."

Neph gave a small, humourless smile. "But I don't believe in the Goddess," she mumbled.

"Then believe in me," Christa said, her voice firm despite the tremor in her hands. "And for as long as you do, we'll find a way. The Goddess or not."

A warm feeling spread through Neph despite the grim situation. "That's all the faith I need, then." She uncorked the blue vial.

"What's the plan?" Christa asked, her voice tight with nervous anticipation.

"This is Nightshade," Neph replied. "It'll cloud their senses for a few minutes."

A humourless smile flickered on Neph's lips. "The longer we fight, the worse it gets. We need to run past them, find a better position... or hide until Noah wakes up."

"Spear," Christa said, her voice tight.

Neph tossed her Noah's Boko Spear. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she looked at Christa. "Ready?"

Christa met her gaze with a determined nod. "Always."

The barrels at the door gave way with a deafening crash as the iron door burst open, revealing a horde of Bokoblin's and a towering Moblin at the back. The stench of sweat and stale blood from outside the room flooded their senses, a sickening counterpoint to the thunderous pounding of their hearts.

Neph, the vial of Nightshade in her hands, slipped from her grasp as threw it towards the door and ran. She held her Bokoblin Club towards the floor, its crude spikes glinting menacingly in the flickering torchlight. Years of training kicked in, her body a blur of practiced movements. With a battle cry that ripped through the din, she slammed the club into the side of a Bokoblin's head, the sickening crack momentarily drowned out by the chaos.

Christa wasn't far behind. With a whirlwind of determination, she launched herself the moment the door splintered and followed behind Neph. She didn't hesitate. The Boko Spear felt like an extension of her own arm, the wood smooth and familiar beneath her grip. A feral snarl twisted her lips – a stark contrast to her usual calm demeanour as she lunged at the nearest Bokoblin, the tip of the spear finding its mark with a sickening thud.

The blue mist from the Nightshade swirled around them, creating a disorienting spectacle. Bokoblin's stumbled and became confused, their movements sluggish and uncoordinated almost as they forgot why they entered the room. But their sheer numbers were overwhelming. They swarmed Christa and Neph like angry bees, their crude weapons flashing in the dim light.

Christa spun, the spear a deadly arc that deflected a club aimed at her back. Another Bokoblin lunged, its eyes crazed with rage. She met its charge head-on, the spear tip piercing through its chest with a wet squelch. The creature let out a strangled gasp before crumpling to the ground.

But for every Bokoblin she felled, two more seemed to take its place. Sweat stung her eyes, blurring her vision. Her breaths came in ragged gasps, her muscles screaming in protest.

Neph, ever the strategist, was surrounded by a pack of Bokoblins. She fought like a possessed woman, the club a deadly weapon in her hands. But she was outnumbered, her movements becoming sluggish with fatigue.

Just as a Bokoblin raised its club to strike Neph down, a colossal roar shook the room. The Moblin, charged into the fray. The Bokoblins scattered before it like frightened children, momentarily clearing a path for Neph.

Seizing the opportunity, Neph rolled away from the gnashing jaws of another Bokoblin and scrambled to her feet. Her eyes met Christa's, a silent communication passing between them. They needed to get out of there, and fast or else they wouldn't leave the room alive.

A groggy groan escaped Noah's lips as he blinked against the harsh light filtering through a crack in the wall. His head throbbed with a dull ache, and disorientation clouded his thoughts. Where was he?

He attempted to rise, his back scraping against a rough surface. Memories flickered like dying embers, offering no warmth or clarity. Panic clawed at him as the vast emptiness of his mind became terrifyingly apparent. A flicker – a classroom? A lecture? No, the image dissolved like smoke.

"Oh... your awake, or are you technically sleeping?" A voice, surprisingly high-pitched and laced with irritation, startled him.

He squinted towards the source, his blurry vision revealing a strange sight. A small, humanoid figure, barely taller than his knee, was propped against the wall beside him. Its body resembled a gnarled tree trunk, topped with a tuft of leafy green hair.

Noah croaked out, "...what...?"

"What?" the miniature tree squeaked; its voice laced with exasperation. "Do you have any idea how rude it is to leave someone hanging? Especially when they're trying to help you!"

Noah's Confusion warred with a rising tide of anger. "Help me with what?" Noah rasped; his voice rough from disuse.

The little tree rolled its eyes, which Noah hadn't even noticed it had. "Look, the longer you take to remember, the more of yourself you lose, and frankly, I don't have the patience to re-explain everything every time you wake up. So hurry up and remember!"

Noah stared at the creature, a cold dread settling in his gut. 'Who are you?' The question formed on his lips, but something held him back. It felt… unimportant somehow.

The tree gazed at Noah as if he was an idiot, before his gaze slowly drifted to the floor. "Ugh, no! Pick up the seed you dimwit!" the tree screeched, gesturing with a stubby branch towards a golden seed lying at Noah's feet. "That's what caused this whole amnesia business in the first place!

Noah frowned, his gaze flickering between the seed and the agitated tree creature. Why would I do that? The thought formed, sluggish, struggling against the tide of fading memories.

"Because," the tree continued in a frustrated rant, "the longer you're here, the more of your memories slip away! You won't remember the previous times you've been here, and frankly, I don't want to explain everything again. These past few nights have been a nightmare!"

Noah's head throbbed. Past few nights? Memories? He desperately tried to piece the fragments together, but they remained stubbornly out of reach. He couldn't remember where he was or why he was here. He barely remembered his own name. It was a terrifying blankness, yet a strange sense of peace settled over him. Maybe forgetting wasn't so bad after all.

'It actually reminds me back when I initially woke up in… wait, when was that?'

'Ah wait, there's a green tree here.' Noah remembered, instantly forgetting his last line of thought.

"So… who are you?" Noah asked the creature, forgetting he asked it before.

"No! Pick up the seed you fuckwit!" The humanoid tree barked.

'It just wants me to pick up the seed, right? But wait, shouldn't I be at class? Ah wait but I need to pick up the seed.'

Suddenly, Noah found it difficult to remember multiple things.

'Whatever, I'll do this and go to class.' He mused.

Noah bent down, closer to the glowing seed but before he wrapped his hand around it, he hesitated.

A wave of emotion hit him – sadness, fear, guilt, and anxiety all wrapped at once. It curled around him like a shroud, making him shiver as tears welled in his eyes.

"What's wrong?" the tree asked.

"I…" Noah couldn't tell what was wrong. Why was picking up the seed causing such a strong reaction? The tree said it would regain his memories, yet is this what he would feel? He wanted to forget, it felt comfortable.

Noah attempted to strain his memory, trying to understand where these emotions and feelings of importance had come from. What was there to miss?"

But the longer he felt these emotions, the more lucid he became. A spark ignited in his mind, a flicker of self-preservation. He narrowed his gaze and used his sleeve to pick up the seed, placing it in his pocket.

"What… you're not picking it up?" the tree asked in confusion

"…No, not yet. I just need to not go to class right? Fine," Noah responded.

Noah was a cautious man or at least he thought he was, it was becoming hard to remember. Regardless, this sudden fear, this desperate need to remember… it was a powerful motivator. He didn't know what he was forgetting, but the mere thought of losing it completely made him feel uncertain, yet the idea of not picking up the seed and losing his sense of self was equally terrifying.

Focusing his thoughts, Noah used the negative emotions as an anchor, a way to hold onto what little remained of his identity. If he ever began to lose himself again, he would remember this feeling, this primal fear. It was a chilling reminder, but a necessary one.

Disturbingly, the emotions were already fading, the intensity dulling with each passing moment.

"So, what are you?" Noah asked the tree absentmindedly, his gaze sweeping the unfamiliar courtyard. It looked like a university campus, benches lining paths that led towards distant buildings. But there were no students, no familiar faces.

The creature slumped against the wall, his leafy hair drooping. "Ugh, this is exactly why I wanted you to remember so I didn't need to re-explain," he grumbled, his voice thick with exasperation. But a spark of determination flickered in his tiny branch-like fingers. "Alright, alright. Listen closely, twig-brain."

Noah flinched at the insult, the sting a flicker of life in the growing numbness of his mind. He tried to focus on the irritation, to use it as an anchor against the tide of forgetting.

"I'm a Korok," It continued, puffing out his non-existent chest. "Forest Spirit, if you prefer something more mystical. But don't go confusing me with those pesky Kokiri! I'm way higher on the evolutionary ladder, thank you very much. And for Pete's sake, don't call me a child!"

Noah's mind was a swirling vortex of confusion. 'Korok? Kokiri? What even is this place?' The questions swirled on the tip of his tongue, but a dull apathy held them back.

Instead, a simpler question escaped his lips, "...and you're a tree?"

"Well, duh!" The creature exclaimed; his voice laced with a hint of amusement. "Used to look like you, actually. But that's a much, much longer story for another time. You can call me Oake, for now."

A sliver of his former self, a spark of curiosity, flickered within Noah. "Oake," he repeated, the name a strange comfort in the unfamiliar surroundings. "It's... nice to meet you. Sorry to bother you again, but where exactly are we?"

Oake hesitated, his leafy brows furrowing in thought. "Honestly, I'm not entirely sure myself," he admitted sheepishly. "Maybe some kind of in-between place? Like a waiting room for confused humans who touch weird glowing seeds?"

Noah's breath hitched. Seed. The memory, hazy and fragmented, surfaced. Chasing something, then a golden glow, a warmth in his hand, then… was he attacked? No, he wasn't sure of anything else. Panic clawed at his throat. "Am I dead?" he choked out, the fear raw and primal.

Oake flinched back, his voice laced with a surprising gentleness. "Whoa there, calm down! Probably not. The whole 'having a physical body' thing usually points towards the living side of things."

"But what do you mean by shadows?" Noah pressed, desperately clinging to any shred of information.

"Ah, well," Oake started, scratching a non-existent itch on his bark-like skin. "Those shadowy figures you used to hang out with? They're more likely the dead ones, if you ask me. Just a hunch, though."

"Shadows?" Noah repeated, incredulous. The word echoed strangely in his mind, a discordant note against the growing symphony of confusion. "I... I hung out with shadows?"

Oake nodded vigorously, his leafy hair bouncing. "Yep! First time I saw you, you were chilling with some shadowy figures in a classroom. Tried to get your attention, all friendly-like. Then, bam! You started chasing me around for no reason, flailing your limbs like a wild animal!"

The tree-spirit shuddered dramatically, a single leaf detaching and fluttering to the ground. "Long story short, you lunged for me, grabbed that shiny seed, and then… poof! Back to dreamland you went. Or technically, woke up."

Noah narrowed his gaze, suspicion warring with the dull ache in his head. "Wait," he said, forcing the words out. "This isn't the first time this has happened?"

Oake sighed, a rustling sound like wind through leaves. "Nope. You have a bad habit of falling asleep at random times, then waking up here with the memory of a goldfish. The seed helps you remember here, but in the other world… well, no help there."

A sliver of panic pricked at Noah. "When was the last time I was here?"

The little tree-spirit tapped a twig against its non-existent chin, brow furrowed in thought. "Hmm, let's see... Last night? You were mumbling something about attacking a 'Wall' or something. Honestly, I have no idea how you planned to punch through a wall, but I wasn't exactly curious enough to ask."

Noah's breath caught in his throat. A Wall? What Wall? The hazy fragments of memory refused to coalesce into anything coherent. He felt a surge of frustration, a desperate need to understand what was happening to him.

"Why do the shadows bring me here?" he demanded, his voice tight with a mixture of fear and anger. "What is this place, and how do I get back?"

The tree-spirit shrugged, its leafy shoulders giving a defeated slump. "I don't know how to get out of here. I'm just as lost in this in-between place as you are. And honestly, the shadows? They seem just as confused as the rest of us. Floaty, wispy things, muttering to themselves, not exactly the mastermind type."

"So they are harmless?" Noah questioned

"Ah, no not exactly. Well that's a danger that's special to you I believe." Oake squirmed on the ground, his leafy appendages twitching nervously.

"Well, uh," he stammered, "those shadows... they don't enjoy you remembering here."

Intrigue flickered in Noah's eyes, momentarily pushing back the fear and confusion. "What do you mean?" he pressed, leaning closer to the tree-spirit.

Oake shot a nervous glance around the courtyard, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial hush. "Normally, when you arrive, they are docile and just roam around, bump into things and pretend we don't exist."

"But when you touch the seed, your memories come flooding back – the good, the bad, and the downright weird. But it also causes them to become angry and try to attack you by, uhm… putting themselves inside you?"

"Putting themselves inside me?" Noah questioned with a frown

"Yep, like breathing in smoke, they try to enter your mouth, nose and ears and stuff like that. We had a close call with that once but anyway once you fall asleep, they go back to ignoring you."

"Why would they do that?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Oake shook his leafy head, his brow furrowed in thought. "Honestly, I'm not sure. But there's one thing I do know - those shadows are angry whenever you remember."

A flicker of dark humour sparked in Noah despite himself. "So, I get kidnapped by shadows who are just as lost as I am, and then I wake up in amnesia-land every time I take a nap? This is one messed up dream."

"Hey, at least you get to return whenever you decide to have a nap!" Oake chirped, a hint of cheerfulness returning to his voice. "Lucky you. Me? I'm stuck here 24/7, babysitting amnesiacs with a penchant for seed-snatching."

"How long were you here before seeing me? Also how did you end up here?" Noah questioned politely.

"Honestly," Oake admitted, "No idea. Time loses its meaning after you've been trapped here long enough. As for how I arrived... well, I simply woke up one day."

A heavy silence descended as Oake slumped his shoulders. "Everything before that... a complete blank."

"Speaking of which, what's your deal?" Oake replied brightly once more, as if forgetting his previous words. "You usually pick up the seed, remember everything, brief me about your boring life and then off your pop back into reality. Yet, you're hesitating." Oake asked.

A heavy silence settled between Noah and Oake, thick and suffocating like the air before a storm. Noah kicked at a pebble on the deserted courtyard floor, a dull ache throbbing in his temples.

"Maybe there's something I don't want to remember," he finally admitted, his voice laced with a defeated sigh. "The idea of staying here... it's not so bad, honestly. I don't know why exactly, but I have the feeling I rather be here. A hollow chuckle escaped his lips, devoid of any real humour. "Pretty stupid right?"

"Yep, that's pretty stupid" Oake scoffed, "Real luxurious. Stuck in this in-between place with a grumpy tree-spirit for company."

Noah couldn't help a wry smile. Oake's gruff demeanour was starting to grow on him, a strange comfort. "But this fear," he confessed, his voice dropping to a whisper. "It's unlike anything I've ever felt. It cripples me, makes me want to crawl into a hole and hide. I don't even remember where it's from and it's that powerful."

Oake's voice softened, a surprising gentleness replacing his usual gruffness. "Look, Noah," he began, "I may not understand the human mind, but I know fear when I see it. That cold dread, the way it makes you want to crawl back into a metaphorical hole and hide... it's powerful. But here's the thing – whatever it is you're afraid of, facing it head-on is always better than letting it control you."

"Is that what you do?" Noah questioned.

Oake's single green eye widened in mock surprise. "Gods, no! Have you seen these twigs for arms? They wouldn't hold a butter knife, let alone a sword!"

Noah raised his eyebrows

"Koroks are masters of evasion, not confrontation," Oake continued with a rustling sigh. "We run, we hide, we blend in with the leaves. But you, my friend, are a Hylian. You're built for defence, if not outright battle."

"Defence," Noah echoed, the word hanging heavy in the air. "Defend who? What?"

A flicker of frustration crossed Oake's leafy face. "Don't you have someone you care about? Something you'd fight for, even in the face of fear?"

Noah clutched his head, a wave of nausea washing over him. Flashes of memory bombarded him - a glimpse of golden hair, worn leather armour, a group of people with blurry faces, the colour pink. But the details remained frustratingly elusive.

"I can't remember," he groaned, slumping onto a nearby bench.

Oake shuffled closer; his voice surprisingly gentle. "Memories may fade, Noah, but emotions linger. Close your eyes, focus on that fear, that gnawing guilt. What does it tell you?"

Noah closed his eyes, surrendering to the darkness. He delved into the murky depths of his own emotions, searching for an anchor, a fragment of identity. And then, he found it - a crushing weight of guilt, a sickening feeling of responsibility shirked. The guilt of leaving people behind, of failing to protect them... or to return? Perhaps both.

He didn't know who his heart ached for, but the intensity of the emotion was undeniable. A spark of determination ignited within him, a flicker of defiance against the crippling fear.

"But what about the things I can't handle?" he voiced his concern.

Oake shrugged. "You deal with them, I guess?"

"Seriously?" Noah's eyes narrowed.

"Well, kind of. Look, if you encounter something sad, acknowledge it, then move on. It's okay to feel grief, but if you're on a mission, set it aside. You're not the main character, Noah. You're more like a supporting role in someone else's story."

Noah repeated the words, "A supporting role..." They held a strange significance, a wellspring of unexpected confidence.

"Will that be enough?" he questioned, a hint of doubt lingering.

"Probably not," Oake admitted, "but what other options are there?"

"Besides, from the interactions I've had with you... your not the type of person to standby and do nothing anyway" Oake added.

"What do you mean by that?" Noah asked.

"You bounce back, you don't like sitting still. You desire answers and solutions, you don't bask in sadness... mostly."

"Encouraging words, aren't they?" Noah said with a hint of suspicion.

Oake chuckled. "Yeah, you got me," he conceded before turning serious. "You mentioned heading east? I have a brother there, Hestu. Unreliable fellow, we love to prank him, especially stealing his stuff. Honestly, no idea what's become of either of us. Anyway, to repay me and all, could you visit him?"

"I don't know what the Eastern Region is…," Noah admitted, "but sure, I can do that, on the condition you help me if I ever return here."

"Excellent! A promise made is a promise kept! Now get going, and remember, you're a nuisance." Oake prodded him playfully.

"Yeah, yeah," Noah mumbled, wiping his sleeve across his face to steal a glance at the golden radiating seed. A surge of terror flooded him, his bones turning to jelly. He fought the urge to collapse, on the verge of a full-blown panic attack.

"This is going to be a nightmare," he muttered under his breath.

The metallic tang of blood filled Neph's nostrils, a sickening counterpoint to the guttural roars of the Lizalfos flanking her. Sweat stung her eyes, blurring the image of the monstrous reptiles lunging for her throat. Parrying a blow from one, she slammed her club into the other's snout, the sickening crunch momentarily drowned out by the chaos.

But her movements were sluggish, her breaths ragged. But exhaustion gnawed at her, and the wounds she'd sustained were starting to take their toll With every desperate attack, her body screamed its protest. One of the Lizalfos capitalized on her waning strength, its razor-sharp claws raking across her side, sending a fresh wave of agony ripping through her.

They had clawed their way out of the overrun room, but escape from the Wall itself was a pipe dream. Every corridor seemed to lead them deeper into this monstrous den.

Across the room, a different kind of horror unfolded. Thrown aside earlier, Noah lay unconscious on the dusty floor far away from either of them. Christa, overwhelmed by a swarm of Bokoblins, fought with the ferocity of a cornered animal. Her once pristine white tunic was now a crimson canvas, a testament to the wounds inflicted upon her. She parried desperately, but her movements were sluggish, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

Neph watched in horror as Christa misjudged a parry. A savage Bokoblin capitalized on the opening, its spiked club slicing a bloody gash across Christa's arm. A scream tore from Christa's lips as the spear clattered to the ground. The Bokoblins closed in, a pack of ravenous wolves circling their wounded prey.

Neph's heart lurched. A primal scream ripped from her throat as she lunged towards Christa, desperate to reach her friend in time. But the relentless Lizalfos were upon her. One whipped its barbed tail around, the tip catching her leg and sending her sprawling onto the cold stone floor.

She landed hard, the impact knocking the breath from her lungs. Dazed, she looked up to see the Lizalfos towering over her, its maw agape, as she just barely raised her club stuck parrying an attack that threatened to end her.

But neither she or Noah if he was here could get to Christa, the distance was too great, and she had too little time.

Despair threatened to consume her, a suffocating weight pressing down on her chest as she was going to watch her friend die a death which was undeserved. A death, caused by Neph's own desire.

Everything was her fault, and she knew it.

She squeezed her eyes shut, a silent plea escaping her lips. Not a prayer, not truly. Neph didn't hold belief with deities or divine intervention. But in that desperate moment, a sliver of a forgotten childhood story flickered in the recesses of her mind – tales of the benevolent Goddess Hylia, protector of the innocent. A flicker, a spark, a desperate hope that defied her ingrained scepticism.

'Please,' she rasped, the word raw and laced with disbelief, a plea that hung heavy in the air. 'Goddess…'

And like an angel descending, Noah opened his eyes.