Thank you both! It's so nice to have you still with me after such a long delay!

Chapter 63: Aftermath

Mahra Impa hastened down the spiralling slope, caution tempering her need to hurry. She and the other young skyfallen man, Groose, had felt the shadow lift. The temple's protections had kept them from its full weight, as she had known they would, but even so, it had fallen heavily across both of them.

Listening to the terrible roars coming from below, she had ventured out once, into the crushing, all-devouring, remorseless hunger surrounding her from the void below. It had taken every ounce of her Sheikah-trained will to resist it, shoring up her suddenly so-frail thoughts as it clawed at them, burnt at them.

She had looked down, over the edge, summoning up all the steel of her hard life, and she had seen the hideous shadowed mass that should not have existed, bound imperfectly into form. She had seen the light of Link's sacred blade darting almost to the heart of the shadows, cutting a path through them to slice at the ruinous shape within. Her old heart had leapt with hope even as it quailed with fear, and she had wanted to help him, but knew, as they all knew, that there was nothing she could do. The horror imprisoned there was beyond the Sheikah: they could not even face Ghirahim directly, and the monstrosity of the pit they had watched over for a thousand years was far, far mightier than he.

This Mahra Impa had known, and she had known that every moment that she forced herself to stand beyond the temple's protection was another moment in which the clawing, grasping need to devour tore at her will 'til it break her. She had retreated, cautious sense dictating the only route by which she could survive, though part of her yearned to watch the battle as if she could support young Link, chosen of the goddess, with her old eyes alone.

And, as all Sheikah knew that sometimes they must, when to move would be only to add one more name to the endless rolls of those who had died in battle against the demons, she had ignored the battle raging below her as best she could. She had turned to young Groose, pale and staring at his shaking, bleeding hand. With a gentle firmness, she had claimed it, cleaned it, bound fingers bitten to the bone that they might heal cleanly. He had said nothing, gone beyond words, and she had gently patted his back in a wordless gesture of reassurance as, together, they waited out the evil that neither could fight.

When it had ended, in a soundless thunderclap and in the sudden lifting of the crushing pressure, in the banishment of the unseen shadows that had turned the normal day to nightmare, Mahra Impa had clambered stiffly back to her feet and ventured forwards to peer over the edge once again. She had seen Link, head down and weary, walking the spiral slope to the bottom of the ancient pit; had seen the pillar and the design of the seal around it glowing with a faint light.

She had started to walk; stopped; turned back to Groose, now hugging his knees and staring at nothing. Soothingly, she had told him it was over; asked him to help her walk. He'd taken the arm she offered when she told him to, almost automatically, and clung to it like a lifeline as they made their way down, avoiding the etched and scoured dead patches as best they could.

By the time they reached the bottom, Groose remembering himself enough to slowly let go of Mahra Impa's arm, Link was kneeling with his back to the rock wall, sacred sword across his lap, his head bowed. If he noticed either of them coming, he gave no sign. Groose took two more slow steps, then stopped, staring at him.

"Well done, Link." Mahra Impa spoke softly, reassuringly, and even so Link's head snapped up instantly, left hand reflexively tightening for a moment on the hilt of his sword until he recognised her and relaxed. His face was streaked with dust and grime from the dry ground, tracks both dirtier and cleaner outlining shed tears, his eyes hollow with the shadow of the monstrosity he had somehow, incredibly, defeated.

"When the seal broke, I feared it would be our end. Even in the first moments of its awakening, the Imprisoned would have been a foe beyond any of the Sheikah. Yet you were able to restore the seal and return it to its captivity… I am truly impressed."

"It wasn't… fully broken," Link mumbled. Even his voice felt thick and clumsy, the words almost difficult to form. "The seal was still…" On it? In it? "...there. We just had to reach it."

"That you were able to is still impressive," Mahra Impa said gently, though moments later she sighed, her old face creasing into well-worn lines of concern. "I fear this may happen again, but even if nothing else, you have bought us a little more time in which to act. My people have guarded this seal for a thousand years… and, over time, as you saw when you first landed here, we have seen it wear thin. The behemoth you beat back into confinement is a horror of unspeakable power. Never before has it broken free, or begun to break free, as it did just now. Even with all you have done, I fear that the seal will give way again soon."

Link's head dropped in defeat. "How long do we have?"

"I do not know," Mahra Impa admitted, uncertainly.

Eight days have passed since you first reinforced the seal, Master. Fi's voice sounded abruptly and unexpectedly in his mind, at once surprising and inexpressibly welcome. You have restored it to a similar strength. In addition, you have temporarily reduced the demon's ability to manifest a form capable of existing in the mortal realm. There is a 90% probability that at least eight days will pass before the seal is again reduced to a sufficiently low strength to begin to break. Further time may additionally be required before it is capable of manifesting form once more. I do not possess sufficient data to evaluate how much.

"Thank you, Fi," Link murmured, before looking back up to Mahra Impa. "Fi thinks we have eight days. Maybe more."

"Then you are left with precious little time to complete the task with which you have been entrusted… but goddess grant it will be enough." The old woman clasped her hands, making a quick, secretive gesture that Link would have missed just two weeks previously. "Will you return to the temple with me, Link? There is much to discuss… and we should not speak of it here." She tilted her head slightly towards the pillar, and the whorls of dead moss around it, and the pitted, lifeless footprints the monster had left wherever it trod. "We do not even speak the name of the Imprisoned here, lest it hear us."

Link shuddered, understanding. "I… I'll come." He found himself dithering in the next moment, wanting to use the rock wall behind to help himself stand; not willing to relinquish his grip on the hilt of his sword. In the end he simply pushed himself stiffly to his feet, right hand on the ground for an instant, sword still in hand, though held so low its tip almost touched the stony soil. Standing once more, he stood still for a moment before taking a slow, weary step towards Mahra Impa, and another. The old woman waited for him to draw level with her before turning as well, leading him gently away.

Groose, a few paces away from either of them, could only stare. Link's haunted eyes, the streaks of tears unnoticed down his face, his quiet, drained voice… and, as he stood up, his right leg, its trousers gone to blood-soaked tatters, the boot pitted, etched, and holed, with a strange straight burn-mark along the inner side.

How was he standing? How was he walking?

How had he faced it?

Groose stood gazing after him, thoughts incoherent. All the foundations of the world seemed shattered. He, Groose, had been going to take his rightful place and save Zelda and everyone would see how much they ought to look up to him. He was the strongest in the class. His mother was mayor for a whole island. He was going to be somebody big and important when he graduated just like he was already important in the Academy. Everyone knew they ought to do what he said.

And that feeling had hit him like a hurricane, and he couldn't have faced it, couldn't have gone into it for even a single second. He didn't know what he had done. Old Grannie had bandaged his hand where he'd bitten it. It still hurt like anything. He hadn't even been able to run. He had always been the toughest… always had his own way…

And Link, little shrimpy Link, who never showed him any respect and kept hanging around Zelda like an unfledged chick so they could never get any time alone and took his place in the Wing Ceremony…

Little shrimpy Link had pulled him back when he couldn't even have saved himself, and the blackness in his mind had made him want to rip Link's head off just for being near him, but Link had yanked him back anyway and the darkness had lifted and then he'd just-

Gone.

Gone running right into it.

Groose couldn't even imagine what he had felt. How he had faced it. How he was walking on that leg, not commenting on it or showing how bad it had been so everyone could see how tough he was, but just like it didn't matter. Of course he'd probably had one of the healing elixirs you could buy, but no training accident had ever, ever looked like that.

The surface was more dangerous than any of the stories had said. He hadn't believed them, and he'd been wrong.

Whether or not everyone obeyed him at the Knight Academy didn't mean anything.

And Link…

. . .

Link pushed open the great door enough for himself and Mahra Impa to step through, glancing behind himself in case Groose was following before obeying her gesture to close it again. The heavy door grated across the ground, raising a faint echo in the old temple. It felt, somehow, a little safer with it closed, the evil beyond shut outside once more, for all that Link doubted the doors would do more than slow it down for an instant if it escaped again.

Following Mahra Impa, he stopped before the tongue of stone, four ornate steps followed by two strangely mismatched plain ones, all of them gently furred with moss and lichen in places. The block that was, somehow, a second Gate of Time looked much the same from this side as it had from the other, complex engraved coating giving way to fathomless blue. Link looked from it to the old woman, ignoring the ache half felt in his right leg, half in his mind.

"As we were saying," Mahra Impa said slowly, "the Gate of Time. As you can see, the Gate is little more than a slab of cold stone for now. It is closed, and opening it will require a very specific power. The legends entrusted to us by the goddess tell us that the power released by your sword by a Skyward Strike will serve as the key to its lock…"

Link instinctively lifted his hand back to the Goddess Sword's hilt, returned to its scabbard only when he'd needed to sheath it to open the heavy doors, but Mahra Impa raised her hand to check him.

"…But this will only work once the sword has been reforged to its full capacity." She sighed. "I am sorry to disappoint you, Link. It is as I was telling you before… you must face further dangers before the Gate of Time can be opened. The spirit maiden was meant to be here to instruct you, but both she and the sacred one are lost to us for now, and so I will do all I can in the goddess' name. We are told that you and your sword must grow together."

Link watched her, listening, fingertips still curled around the hilt of his sword.

"In each of the regions where the sacred springs are found, and in the deep desert, there is also hidden a sacred flame. These holy flames are the only thing capable of tempering the blade that you bear. You must seek out each one, and purify your sword in its heat. Only then will your blade be fully imbued with the great power for which it was created."

Link nodded, slowly. Fi's strength and purity felt undimmed beneath his fingertips, but he felt no reaction; heard no correction.

"The Sheikah were not entrusted with the location of the sacred flames, however, beyond the vast areas in which they can be found. For had that knowledge been torn from us by the demon Ghirahim…" The old lady shook her head, and Link thought he saw her shudder. "Had he known the purpose to which they would be put and how they could be found, your quest might have been ended before it could begin. So instead, we are told, clues to finding the sacred flames were entrusted only to your people above the clouds, woven into the lyrics of songs of worship most precious to them. You must discover these clues, Link. They are your best hope of finding your way to the flames in time. Somewhere on your island must dwell those who still bear this knowledge, though to protect it they may not know its import or its true meaning."

Link half-closed his eyes, casting his mind back to Skyloft. Headmaster Gaepora and Father Kaeber… surely between them they would know what he sought? So many times he had heard the Headmaster talk about some scrap of archaic knowledge, or Zelda repeat something interesting she had found in his notes or one of his books, and while he knew Father Kaeber less well, the older man was both the goddess' foremost and perhaps holiest priest and Headmaster Gaepora's brother; a devout scholar of the divine. When Zelda had been learning the melody of dedication to play at the Wing Ceremony, she'd told him how her father and her uncle had sat down with her to talk her through its history, its ancient symbolism, the faith it expressed. She'd said…

The door behind him grated open, and Link's eyes snapped open even as he whirled, pivoting on his good leg to see only Groose, walking slowly inside. The tall bully glowered at him, his gaze sliding from Link after a moment to Mahra Impa to the dormant Gate of Time beyond them both. Inwardly, Link resigned himself to whatever Groose might say, but his gaze returned to Mahra Impa and the glare faded.

"I hate even sayin' this, but I guess you got it all figured out, Grannie." Groose turned his back as he spoke, folding his arms, too quickly for Link to be sure what had passed across his expression. "Me, well, there's nothin' I can do to help Zelda. I'm useless." His voice was bitter, and shaken, and hollow.

I don't think anyone could have faced that monster. I don't know if I could have done it without Fi. Even if I could have still run up to it I don't know if I could have hurt it. I couldn't have sealed it again without her power. He wanted Groose to go away, yes; he wanted him to finally get his head around the idea that other people existed and mattered; he wanted him to stop picking on him and Fledge and the other kids and recognise the many ways he'd made their lives worse and be sorry. But even his sometime tormentor didn't deserve the horror outside.

Groose turned away before Link could find any words to speak, dropping his arms and walking slowly back towards the great door that led to the horrifying pit. Link noticed the bandages wound around the fingers of his right hand for the first time with a faint, dulled surprise.

"Ah." Mahra Impa's voice was soft, but it still lifted above the sound of Groose's footsteps. "You sell yourself short, my young friend. You'll see in time that even the least of us still have a role to play in all this."

Groose just walked faster, barging past the half-open door and shoving the one that was still closed slightly open on his way out. Link and Mahra Impa watched him go before turning back to one another.

"Link," Mahra Impa said gently, "go now. I will watch over him. Trust in fate to guide your feet. Everything depends upon it… both our fate and that of Zelda, in the distant past."

Link nodded once, acknowledging and understanding. There was precious little time. He began to turn; stopped as a patch of white on the stairs at the far end of the temple struck him.

"Will you keep his sailcloth safe for him?"

Mahra Impa nodded, and a small smile creased her old face. "I will. He has a lot to learn, and this world is a harsh teacher."

"Thank you."

With a last nod, almost a bow, Link turned and left.

In the game, there's another scene with Groose after this, in which he unfathomably waits for Link to come outside before screaming about being useless (still facing away) and running off to punch a wall. I doubt he waits for Link to do all that. We'll see him again later.

Patch Notes
- Impa now sounds impressed rather than almost dismissive.
- Actual reason given for calling the captive being "The Imprisoned" rather than Demise.
- Impa no longer taunts Link by pausing long enough to let him walk three full steps and nearly draw his sword before telling him that actually he can't do this yet.
- Multiple "Ballad of the Goddess"es now distinct and separate songs. (Impa literally just taught us to play the/a Ballad of the Goddess. Perhaps she doesn't know the lyrics, but that seems a bit much.)