Chapter 15 - Darkening Skies
Another Vision was coming on, she could feel it in the air around her. Her hands, crossed daintily in her lap, tingled with anticipation and nerves. The stagnant air of her bedchambers suddenly became alive with energy, rippling the scenery around her. She had scarcely made it to her chair at the grand iron window before her room melted away. The woman fell through a world of inky black and her senses left her. She did not fear this event, not any longer. The Visions had been coming for many years now, she knew they could not bring her any true harm. Haunt her mind for days on end, certainly. But physically, she would survive whatever she was about to see.
Would it be another war from the ancient past? She was still not over the stench of blood, viscera, and sweat that had assaulted her the moment she'd landed in her last Vision, merely two days ago. The agonized screams of dying civilians and soldiers still lurked in the corners of her memory. Sometimes, when her room was silent, the screams would rise to a nigh unbearable volume.
Nobody else heard them. This, too, no longer bothered the woman. She was used to such oddities.
Hyrule had not seen true war for as long as she'd been alive. The last war - the Imprisoning War - had ended centuries ago. She still hadn't worked out why the Visions took her to these battlefields. It was hard to believe that they were anything more than a warning of what was to come.
A consequence to her cowardly actions, perhaps. An omen of the dark terms she'd agreed upon her surrender.
Her descent into darkness was slowing. Soon, the world around her would take shape. The woman braced herself and pulled her dark cloak tight around her, as if to shield herself from whatever awaited her beyond the veil. It wouldn't be entirely unthinkable that she would awaken directly in the path of great danger.
She could see the cloak. Her sight was back, then. She looked around, the fabric of her bodice brushing softly against her skin. A scene should be rippling into view…
There was no scenery. There was only nothing. Though she could not see any separation between sky and ground, her narrow-heeled shoes alighted on the unseen ground - she supposed there had to be one. All around her, silence.
She spun, her cloak swishing through the air, confirming that her hearing had returned. There was simply nothing to hear. Incredibly unusual. She absolutely must commit this anomaly to memory, so that she might record the instance in her dreambook for later study…
"Goddess," a voice whispered upon a breeze that had not been there before. "She is quite stubborn."
It took the woman a moment to realize that this voice was, in fact, attempting to speak with her. Still, the Vision eluded her sight.
She parted her lips to speak, but no words came out. A trembling hand lifted to her lips.
They were gone.
Her face was smooth beneath her nose, yet she could feel her jaw opening, her tongue running across her teeth and pushing against parted lips. Her face remained smooth to her hand. The woman began to shake.
"Listen," the wind hissed. "We have no time for your questions. It is imperative that all pieces are in play before the Demon King makes his move. One piece has yet to fall into place, and time grows short. Hylia's army is not to be late. No excuses. Not one piece out of place. Not one."
The woman continued to scan the empty scene around her, looking desperately for the source of the voice. Would it comfort her to see who that voice belonged to? Or would they horrify her further? It sounded unfamiliar, inhuman, but it spoke clear Hyrulean. It sounded irritated, and spoke with incredible disrespect to a woman of her rank.
Recalling her years of diplomacy training, the woman forced her fear down into a compartment into her heart and locked it away, ignoring the physical pain in her chest. Fear muddled the mind. If the Vision were to be preserved, she must remain alert. Conscious. Every moment and every word must be as perfect as possible.
"We suffered a great loss, all those hundreds of years ago. Long we have waited for Water to seek a new vessel. It appears they have made some…miscalculations in the readiness of the vessel. Their spirit should have awakened years ago, yet the vessel remains unaware and unprepared.
"You will know the spirit when it is near. You must speak with the vessel. If the spirit is not Awakened soon, our seal will fail, and Demise will visit Hyrule again. We have no more time to waste, Goddess Reincarnate. If the seal fails, we will be powerless in his wake. The Sword of Evil's Bane has yet to call to her master once more. She is far from her former strength and requires more rest. We must reinforce the seal, with all Six reunited. Seek the sleeping spirit and send her to the Shrine of the Six Sages."
The woman considered the hefty lock that had been placed on her front door back home. The lock was located on the outside, keys held by a particularly ruthless group of mindless thugs dressed in soldier's armor with strict instructions to keep her under constant surveillance. Getting out and finding anyone would be difficult, let alone finding this vessel. She was a puppet these days, at best. A figurehead who sulked in her chambers and saw Visions that many began to believe were nothing more than the ramblings of a madwoman.
Oh, but they were real. She knew they were. Even if the heretics doubted her, spread rumors of her incompetence and weak mind, she knew her Visions meant something. They could doubt her all they wanted. She had not given them reason to believe she was strong, anyways. No, her father was far better at these things than she was.
Seek the sleeping spirit and send her to the Shrine of the Six Sages, she repeated over and over in her mind. This Vision would be difficult to recall, she already knew. The dialogue-heavy Visions were the worst. Recalling exact words spoken aloud was incredibly vital, but also incredibly difficult.
It was quite generous of the unknown voice to give her these instructions in such a repetitious way. She could recall patterns, repetition.
Seek the sleeping spirit and send her to the Shrine of the Six Sages.
The wind died. Her body was fading from view. She was returning home. She clung desperately to her mental chant.
Seek the sleeping spirit, send her to the Six Sages. Certainly, she could remember this much. It was clearly the most important part of the Vision.
But what was that about a seal? And where exactly was this Shrine? She had never heard of such a thing in all her readings…
The sword, at least, rang a bell. But she did not have time to dwell on that. It was not important, not to her. Especially if it wasn't ready.
Seek the sleeping spirit, send her to the… Six. It was fading already. The woman's wandering thoughts had betrayed her, and she grasped desperately at the memory. Reality was taking its sweet time in returning. The dull monochrome of her chambers began to bloom from the darkness around her. She was not yet in control of her physical self, she could not write yet.
I must remember. Seek the… Seek the Sages… No, no! Her frustration boiled. This Vision was so precise in its missive, how could she be forgetting already? She searched desperately for her own hands, willed her legs to get up and carry her half-conscious body over to her writing desk. She was not returning fast enough.
Sleeping spirit. Sages. Sleeping spirit. Sages.
Finally, she felt the quill in her hand, the smooth parchment under her fingertips. Her hands moved with furious speed. The Vision melted away.
Now free from the public eye, Midna opted to float about the dungeon alongside Link, a dark shadow drifting about as she took in the caverns around them. She still had not spoken to the hero, had barely even glanced in his direction before floating about, seeming to be lost in her own thoughts. He found this unusual as she'd hardly appeared interested in being out and about anywhere except the Twilight Realm, but Link figured it would be pointless to ask.
Though the heat tag was certainly keeping heat sickness at bay, it did nothing for Link's parched throat. The two waterskins he'd brought along with him suddenly felt inadequate, and Link wondered if he would be able to accomplish all that was laid upon his shoulders before he died of thirst.
Something burbled from a nearby lava pool, and Link readied his new shield. A green-backed slug-like monster lifted its head from the molten lake and released a fireball from its mouth. He struck the blazing projectile back at the creature, just enough of a distraction for him to duck behind a metal pillar of questionable build quality. With him out of sight, the mindless beast disappeared back into the lava. Link released his held breath and briefly wished he'd had Isha around to deal with these projectile-vomiting creatures.
A pillar of flame erupted from the pool behind him, bathing the cavern in fresh heat that drew sweat from his brow. Link wiped his face, wondering if the heat tag would really be enough to protect him in the bowels of the volcano.
He and Midna made their way carefully down the tunnels, weaving around iron supports and platforms that served as his only useful landmarks in the dark tunnels. Symbols were painted along the walls indicating words in an unfamiliar picture-based language. They likely provided useful directions, but the man had not exactly found time to study up on his Goron symbolism.
Isha could probably read them. He recalled her mentions of reading scholar books for fun.
"Watch your step," Midna finally broke their long silence, her voice startling Link. He tripped over a large plate of metal and looked down to see a long fall into boiling magma. His heart dropped, but he managed to steady himself before prying his eyes away from the drop. "I figured you weren't paying much attention."
The flustered swordsman bit the inside of his cheek. "Thanks," he managed.
The tunnel led them to a massive chamber. Metal bridges and narrow rock spires created a mis-matched bridge over the pit he'd nearly stumbled into. Link found it hard to believe that such mangled structures could handle the weight of Goron miners and their equipment. He took far more careful steps, his eyes now fixated on a massive iron door on the other side of the room.
Midna did not speak to him again, choosing once more to drift around, admire the cave paintings and infrastructure around them. Link wasn't sure what to make of her strange shift in behavior, when she was clearly still very annoyed with him.
Well, he was quite annoyed with her, too. Annoyed at everything, if he thought too long about it.
"Once you have these Fused Shadows, what will you do?" he finally asked the burning question.
Midna, her back turned, crossed her arms. "I will save my people from a false king," she replied, her usual bite absent. "The man responsible for Twilight in your world is currently claiming that he is a king to our people. His name is Zant," she spat the name, her personal feelings clear. "He wields a false power and enslaves our people with it. The Shadow Beasts that you've been fighting. Those are… my people."
The shadowy imp finally drifted back to Link, amber eyes unusually dull. "Not one of those beasts is natural. He's turning both my people and Light-world dwellers into monsters with brute strength and no intelligent thought. The only way I can stop him is with all of the Fused Shadows."
Link thought about the vision Lanayru had shared with him, and the image of a Fused Shadow being used to imprison the Triforce. If these items were so strong, then he had no doubt they would allow nearly anyone to overpower their enemies.
It made him shudder. "All of this, to overthrow one mad king?"
Midna hissed. "He will never be my king. I have nothing but scorn for his supposed strength and strange magic. But… it is incredibly strong, and I must admit that I am not powerful enough on my own to stop him."
"And these Fused Shadows - these things that the Light Spirits were supposed to lock away - they're the only way for you to defeat him?"
She bared her teeth, one long fang glinting in the orange glow of the magma pool. "You'd be nothing to him in your current state, so don't get any ideas. I have a point to prove, anyways."
They'd finally crossed to the other side of the room, and Link braced himself for the inevitable blast of heat that awaited him on the other side of the closed door. He looked to his shadowy companion. "Why won't you talk to Isha, then? It clearly bothers her to be left out of the loop, and she's directly involved in this."
Midna gave a sour look. "I find Light Dwellers insufferable."
"You got along fine with Princess Zelda, and even said you'd been looking for me."
"Actually, if you recall, I said you weren't exactly what I had in mind, but that I would make do. You two are very different." With a smirk, her prehensile hair extended and pushed back the iron door in front of them.
A cooling breeze rushed past the pair, beckoning to the overheated hero. They stepped out into a natural valley between the several smaller peaks that surrounded Death Mountain. Metal platforms snaked across a massive lake below them, leading off to various other mine entrances and gods know what else. A few oil lanterns dotted the sides of the path, piercing through the otherwise inky darkness of a moonless night. The sky above was alive with twinkling stars, hardly deterred by the weak lanterns below.
These same stars also strangely twinkled below him, a reflection of the night sky making it clear they were standing above a massive crater lake.
Link sucked in a deep breath, his lungs rejoicing at the fresh air. Humid air. He looked to Midna, near-invisible as a shadow, herself. "Do you ever consider that you might be just a little bit ridiculous?"
Her mouth dropped open, a shocked laugh erupting from her throat. "I, ridiculous? At least I can stay focused on one goal, and I don't overextend myself for the sake of strangers."
"Midna…" Link was, to her credit, quite exhausted. His will to continue arguing was slipping away. He slumped against the metal railing, crossing his arms and looking down into the dark water below. He listened intently into the night, but heard nothing alarming in the immediate area. Perhaps he could get a few hours of sleep…
"I don't trust her," Midna finally replied, sitting atop the railing beside him. "I find it foolish to put your trust in strangers, no matter what grandiose deeds they attempt."
The hero studied her dark form, curled over as she rested her elbows on her crossed knees. Her small hands cupped her face. "I couldn't even speak when you met me, and you took me straight to Hyrule's crown princess."
"I told you, you're different," she said. "A hero chosen by the gods can always be trusted."
Link supposed it was a compliment, yet her words didn't sit well with him. Again, a useless mark overshadowed him in someone's eyes. He growled involuntarily.
Midna chose to ignore him, and instead continued. "Not to mention… she's not well, Link. Not physically nor mentally. She's seen more horrors than any sheltered girl should, and has lost everything. Those with nothing left to lose are the most dangerous and unpredictable."
"Oh, you're a doctor of both body and mind, now?" The young man huffed, slumping down to the floor. He was so tired…
"Formal training is not required to recognize when someone is simply wrong."
Link leaned against a nearby crate and closed his eyes. His head was pounding, his throat burning. He wanted to defend his friend, but his strength had left him long before they'd reached this part of the mines.
"You humans and your sleep," grumbled the small voice above him.
Link pulled his cap over his face. "All my energy is spent arguing with you. The least you could do is allow me some rest in the one place that isn't an oven up here."
Midna looked down at her exhausted partner and felt the tiniest tug of pity at her core. Hylians simply weren't as strong as her own people. Perhaps she really was pushing this poor creature to his physical limit, and even the act of conversing took considerable energy.
Once their fragility had been revealed to her, Midna hadn't bothered to learn much about the creatures of this world, not feeling any of it relevant to her and her goals. She was a stranger, unwanted by this realm. Why bother learning the ins and outs of its inhabitants, when she just needed one for her task?
A persistent, annoying thought pricked at her mind. Another human in my service would certainly speed things up. She'd already declared her intent to remain unknown to the wider world, though. And Midna's word was not one to be challenged.
She straightened her posture, subconsciously obeying the lessons that had been drilled into her all throughout her childhood. Sharp angles. Gaze held high.
Uncross those legs, you'll wrinkle your skirts.
A faraway voice, a whisper of a memory that guided her every movement. Her Mannerisms tutor was a strict woman, but a younger Midna had found her to be quite admirable in her confidence. She doubted the woman ever experienced a moment of embarrassment or impropriety. A true noble.
A clamorous snore pulled Midna back into the present, the thundering sound grating on her every nerve. She didn't expect this peasant to behave as a prince, but lords, he was downright vulgar at times.
Midna rose and floated across the crater lake, her toes dipping into the cold water as she bounced along. Though she held great disdain for this world of Light, she still found beauty in it, on occasion. The black water beneath her was smooth as glass, mirroring the star-studded sky above. This "night time" was not something that existed in the Twilight realm. She had never seen stars in her realm, had no idea what lay beyond the ever-present clouds that shone with the orange evening glow.
Midna wasn't entirely sure what stars were, but they were far more interesting and pleasant to look at than the skies she used to dwell beneath. When the Light world transitioned into night, she found the atmosphere far more pleasing. She could definitely live within a night realm, if one existed.
At the other side of the lake, Midna could still just make out Link's obscene snoring cutting through the air. She sighed and sat on the edge of a rocky outcropping.
In this lonely span of inactivity, she struggled to keep painful memories at bay. Voices from her past floated about her mind, making her homesick for a land she was banned from returning to.
Zant. His infuriating smug grin came to her mind as she recalled her final moments in the Twilight Realm. His glowing yellow eyes had been filled with hatred and triumph, calling upon some made-up god to smite her completely and remove yet another obstacle between him and the throne. Cheating his way to the top, as always.
This supposed god had not killed her. Instead, it cursed her and banished her to an unfamiliar realm. If Zant's god was truly real, then he was certainly a trickster god, of some kind. He banished her straight into the realm where her people's Old Magic slept. Straight into the path of a man blessed by the Gods to protect his own people from greater evils than a simple usurper.
Her clawed fingers drummed against the rock underneath, an old habit that she had never been able to break. The sound was just too enjoyable, when she got the rhythm right. It brought her comfort, helped her control her racing thoughts..
Just two more pieces, Midna reminded herself. Two more, and I can end this nightmare for both realms. They should be thanking me for going through all this trouble.
But the Light-dwellers would not thank her. Only two would know her name, and if she could help it, that would be all that they knew. Hiding irrelevant information from the simple-minded Hero was easy enough, but this kingdom's princess was a different story. Privileged though she may have been, the Hylian royal had been horrendously observant, and perhaps just as versed in politics as Midna was. Zelda frequently made assumptions and asked trick questions of Midna, backing her into corners until she could no longer deflect, reading her like an open book. The few days Midna had spent getting to know the princess had been tiresome. So young, so privileged, and yet she still acted as though she knew everything.
A shame that the little smartass couldn't be bothered to put her mind to use for the kingdom. Instead, she chose to waste away in her tower like some dramatic martyr, while her people struggled for survival alone. She practically handed her kingdom over, likely terrified of Zant and his delusions.
Had Midna been in Zelda's place, she would be in every decimated village, every war-torn family's home and any public place she could be to appeal to her people. Bolster their spirits, experience their pain and shock with them, and be a steady anchor for them to cling to while they weathered whatever disaster befell them. A leader who hid away beyond reinforcements and stone walls and legions of sacrificial guards was no better than no leader at all.
Thinking about the Hylian Princess always fired her up. Midna forced herself away from these thoughts, fed up with all this moping and anger. Such petty issues, she chastised herself. None of this matters right now. She is Hyrule's problem, not mine.
Midna turned her gaze back to where she left the sleeping hero. Link may have been too selfless, too trusting, but he was certainly the most useful of the few Light dwellers she had been around. When he wasn't being distracted by young women and their personal issues.
Midna had never been fond of women with little care for propriety, and had no experience with those whose minds were not sound. Isha's attitude was repulsive enough as it was, but the woman was also clearly traumatized and carried baggage that she would never unpack without a proper mindhealer. She was clearly working with shreds of sanity, and might have once been intelligent and sensible, before her life was so drastically altered.
The human woman was on a self-destructive path, and Midna wanted no part in it. Isha would likely die in that lake temple, either too weak to overcome the enemies ahead or too stupid to be careful. Lanayru was no-doubt toying with the Hylian, punishing her for her blasphemy against the spirits. At least she won't be able to drag us down with her, thought the imp bitterly. If Link can handle the loss of another friend…
The sky above had shifted from a solid sheet of black to deep indigo, signaling that the horrid sun would be rising before much longer. Midna stood and stretched, wondering if she'd given Link long enough to rest. Surely a few minutes of sleep was better than nothing, right?
Returning to the hero's side, Midna placed her small hands on either of his shoulders and shook him vigorously. "Come on, rise and shine, wolfy."
Link groaned and reached for his hat, which had fallen to the ground as he slept. He pushed the imp away, but sat up and rubbed his eyes.
He looked many years older, for just a moment. A trick of the light, or the effects of exhaustion, Midna wasn't sure. She felt an unfamiliar pang of pity. He didn't ask to be in such a miserable situation, though he hardly did much to make things easy upon himself.
"The sooner you get that shadow, the sooner you can get rid of me," she chimed.
Link gave her a far-off look. Perhaps that was what made him age so swiftly. "Yeah."
Midna huffed and kicked his arm with mild force. "Snap out of it, Link. We should hurry up if you want any chance at saving your stupid friend from herself."
No, her word was never to be challenged. However, Midna was determined to keep this swordsman in her service for as long as she could, and she knew she had to throw him a bone every once in a while. She would not directly deal with the crazy Isha, nor would she bother to make her presence known to the girl. But that didn't mean she couldn't at least try to tip the scales in the young woman's favor by rushing the hero along, give him some motivation and hope. If he could reach that final Fused Shadow before Isha did, then the two Hylians could continue to drive each other mad while Midna returned home to liberate her people.
"Lantern," the hero mumbled.
Midna rolled her eyes but withdrew the item he requested. He lit the wick and began shuffling across the metal walkways, likely still half asleep. He said neither "please" nor "thank you." Didn't even look back to see if Midna would follow.
Such horrendous manners.
The road between Kakariko and Castle Town was a boring one to traverse, but straight enough that you could almost see the twin spires at the town gate from the northmost entrance to Kakariko Canyon, on a clear day. The wide open plain that separated the two settlements was incredibly deceptive in its size. A single horse-drawn carriage traveled the road this morning, its progress slow but steady. The two female passengers were in no hurry - they'd had plenty of running around already.
Telma kept Isha entertained with stories she'd gathered over her years of running the tavern. Telma's Bar was ann incredibly popular joint with the soldiers. She offered discounts and 3-month tabs to active-duty soldiers. Veterans received their first two drinks of the night on the house. She often hired the trainee soldiers as bodyguards and bouncers for busier nights, a paid excuse to hang around the bar. The only downside was that they weren't allowed to drink while working, but it was a small price to pay to avoid the more mundane trainee tasks that didn't earn them extra money.
Since the bar was so close to the south gate, Telma also saw her fair share of travelers. She had a part-time cook who worked lunch shifts, whose meals she offered at a reasonable price. A barmaid waiting on you while you dined on filling meals and drank a little too much mead? Hardly any traveler could resist at least stopping by for a roll and a mug.
Telma had accumulated quite the collection of stories from all over. She regaled Isha with a few of these tales, adding little asides with her own assessment of each storyteller's legitimacy, which often was something along the lines of "absolute rubbish." Still, they were fascinating and reminded Isha of the stories her own father had once shared with her.
Listening to such anecdotes made her heart feel light, and Isha allowed herself to momentarily forget the morbid realities that hid behind the shining surface of each adventure and thrilling tale. She closed her eyes and leaned back on the rickety bench seat, imagining herself in the place of these strangers. In one vision she faced a three-headed dragon, each face more terrifying than the last. The beast wielded the power of storms, utilizing rain and thunder and wind in its fierce combat. She danced between gleaming fangs and leapt over the swiping barbed tail, her sword arcing through the air not unlike Link's own frenzied fighting. Her sword pierced through the beast's armored skin. It took some great effort, but with enough momentum–
"Have you fallen asleep on me?" Telma's question cut through Isha's mental theatre, and the younger woman blushed when she realized how she might have looked.
"Absolutely not," she replied quickly. "Sorry, I was just… seeing it in my mind."
"Oh, not just resting your eyes, yeah?"
Isha gave Telma a gentle nudge. "I'm serious, please keep going. Did he manage to slay the dragon?"
"He claimed that he severed the monster's three heads in one massive swing. I didn't bother pointing out that if each neck was truly as wide as a man was tall, his pathetic little broadsword wouldn't have been able to slice even one all the way through. He kept ordering drinks, I kept listening. Said he kept a horn as a trophy and then sold it at the market. I never was able to track down that dragon horn. You'd think such a thing would be the talk of the town!"
Isha marveled at the idea. Trophies, valuable and rare and treasures in their own right. "Did he at least describe it? Do you know what it looked like?"
The barkeep nodded. "The guy said it was like a bolt of lightning, but one he could hold. He said it glowed with the light of 'a thousand suns,' can you believe it? What a silly saying."
Silly, but it was effective enough in its description. Isha could almost see the horn in her mind's eye, jagged and pulsing with an eerie light harvested from angry skies. She imagined it would be warm to the touch - possibly even too hot for bare hands. Perhaps it crackled with energy. "It sounds amazing," she sighed.
"Sounds like a load of nonsense to me. He probably just stepped on some poor lizard in a rainstorm and made the rest up."
"But if it were real, if such a monster even exists…"
"Then I hope it stays far away from the bar," Telma said with a dry laugh. "We've had plenty o' monsters sulking around already, and they aren't nearly as horrible as what he was describing. Beast got more powerful with every sentence, it seemed."
Her words pulled Isha back to reality, reminding her of just how terrifying such monsters truly were. If the Shadow Beasts were capable of leveling villages, then how powerful would a three-headed dragon the size of a mountain be? She twirled a loose strand of hair around her finger.
Telma launched into another story about a soldier's rescue of a locked away princess, but Isha was no longer so invested. Told from the soldier's perspective, it was an interesting tale, but she could only think about the princess in the story. How long was she trapped in her prison? How long had it been before she felt the warm sun on her face? How long did it take that soldier to reach her? What would happen to her if he took too long? Was anyone bringing her food? Making sure she was still alive? What if a monster had gotten to the girl first?
Isha agreed with Telma's assessment of the entire story being "goat shit."
Their journey was beautifully boring, devoid of any bandits or monsters or any other events. Isha thanked her lucky stars for the break in action. As much as she wanted to rush on to Zora's Domain, the young woman was looking forward to a couple of days of rest at the tavern.
Her feet finally crossed the threshold into Telma's Bar after sunset that evening, and Isha debated falling to the floor and sleeping right there. Even the rough-cut wood seemed comfortable enough for a nap.
"Follow me, honey," Telma instructed, her words reminding Isha that a proper bed awaited her just down the hall. Gathering the remaining shreds of energy within her, the young woman adjusted her traveling bag on her shoulder and followed Telma around the corner.
They stopped at a door at the end of the hallway, made of solid, dark wood and labeled with a golden "7." Telma unlocked the room and entered, holding the door open for Isha.
It was small, simple, and beautifully cozy. The hardwood flooring was covered by a plush circular rug that nearly covered the entire room. A small dresser was pushed against the center of the far wall, topped with a vase containing scented herbs that reminded Isha of that lovely soap she'd smuggled out of the Inn back in Kakariko. There were a dozen or so of them, the clustered flowers still clinging desperately to a light purple hue despite having long been dried.
Her eyes did not linger on this for long, though. Isha's gaze was drawn to the iron-framed bed, which was made of not one, but two mattresses stacked atop one another. A thick blanket - deep maroon to match the rug - was half-pulled back, revealing sheets the color of light chocolate beneath. Five different pillows, wrapped in dark brown fabric, were fluffed and propped up against the headboard.
Isha wondered what Telma might think if she dove head-first into the bed. Her aching muscles begged to lay down, but she couldn't just yet. She needed to write a letter.
On the wall opposite the bed was a small wooden desk, a standing mirror its only decoration. The young woman turned to her generous host. "This looks amazing, are you sure I don't owe you anything?"
"Bah, enough with that," Telma waved her hand in the air dismissively. "This room is yours anytime you're passing through. Just keep fighting the good fight."
Despite her exhaustion, Isha grinned. Before her knees could give out completely, she made her way over to the small desk. She took a seat in the chair. "Would it be too much trouble to ask for some stationery?"
The barkeep left with the promise to bring that and a hot meal, both of which Isha would be grateful for. Once her yowling stomach was satiated, she would finally find rest atop the ridiculously luxurious bed.
She turned and looked once more at the bed. I bet it feels like sleeping atop a cloud, she thought. Two mattresses, what a silly waste. The beds at the Elde Inn seemed like slabs of hard rock in comparison.
Isha turned back to the desk, her eyes falling upon the tabletop mirror. She flipped it around to face and took a long look at her own face. Her face was filling in again, and her cheeks no longer looked gaunt. The dark circles under her eyes remained, but Isha couldn't remember a time when they weren't there in some capacity. Years of staying up to finish a good book had done a number on her.
Her hair was a downright mess, as she feared. Isha had bundled her hair up at the back of her head for the journey, but much of it had come loose with the jostling cart and pulling wind. She winced as she removed the pins that struggled to hold it together, strands of hair snapping. I fear I may have to sacrifice my hair, at some point.
Eva had once forced her daughter to try a bobbed haircut, over a decade ago. Isha despised it. Her hair was her pride, her vanity. She hated the way it curled under her chin when it was cut short, and it took years to grow it back out. Her hair never was able to grow out to the same length, something she'd lamented most of her teenage years. Her mother had vowed to never again take scissors to her hair, except to remove the ruined tips every once in a while.
Isha gathered her mangled hair and held it at her chin. Her lips pulled down into a frown. She hated it. Short hair looked so wonderful on so many women, and would be incredibly convenient, but she wasn't ready for that commitment yet.
She released her hair and sighed, turning the mirror away. I'll have to find a really good brush, she thought.
Telma returned, bringing the promised stationery and hot meal. A plate of sausage links accompanied with fried greens was placed before her, the paper set off to the side.
"I'll call for the postman to pick up your letter in the morning," the barkeep informed her. "Eat before you write. It's best when it's fresh." With a wink, Telma left Isha alone in her room.
Stomach growling and mouth watering, Isha was not about to waste any time in devouring the enticing meal. She relished in the smoky flavors of the grilled meat. The fried greens were spiced with something she couldn't recognize, but she found them palatable all the same. The long green stalks were filled with sugar water, making them taste more like a fresh dessert than a side dish.
The young archer was still licking her fingers when she began composing her letter to the Zora guards. She struggled to determine whether it would be best to take a casual or formal tone. They had seemed eager to meet again, but how did she know they weren't just being nice?
I'd rather you not forget about me.
Mikas' words were ever-present in her swirling mind, among many other voices of her past. Perhaps she should address the letter specifically to him, since he lingered to say goodbye. Isha still intended to give him an earful over waiting until she was on the brink of death to bother using his magic to heal her.
Then again, perhaps it was a bit too obvious if she wrote only to him. Though he had occupied a small part of her thoughts since their departure, Isha wasn't sure that she wanted to be so obvious about such things.
She settled for addressing the lot of them.
Mikas, Zepin, Peras, Valan –
I am happy to report to you all that I have managed to survive over a week without any more near-death experiences. I have been to many places since our meeting, but currently I am staying at Telma's Bar in South Castle Town. I have so much to tell you all, if you'll be willing to listen sometime.
In this letter, I fear I can only fit one of these stories upon this page, so I will stick with the most important one: Prince Ralis is safe in Kakariko Village, under the watchful eye of Renado, the Shaman, and a very courageous young woman who rescued him, a lady named Ilia from Ordon. He fell ill on his journey, but her quick actions and watchful eye have ensured that he survived the worst of it. My companions and I escorted him to Kakariko so that Prince Ralis may receive proper treatment. When I last spoke with the Shaman, he indicated that the Prince would need a while to recover before making any sort of long journey.
If it isn't too much trouble, I would like to ask for a favor in return for this information and my part in escorting your Prince to safety. I request a guide to Zora's Domain, for I have business there. I am not in any terrible rush, but I am hoping to get started as soon as possible. The sooner, the better. I hate to be so vague, but I am running out of paper. Besides, the intrigue might just inspire you all to seek me out, once I arrive.
I do look forward to speaking again when our lives are not on the line.
Isha
Isha sat back and looked upon her messy scrawl. It was the first thing she'd written in months, and it felt strange to hold the pen once more, but it was also quite satisfying to fill the blank page with large swooping letters. She may have been a bit ambitious with the size of her letters, but she worried that, if she wrote too small, her scribbling would be too difficult to decipher.
The letter was smeared with ink a few places, a few others held splatters where the inkpen had dripped. This frustrated Isha - she hated smudged and messy paper. She'd been very strict on her students when teaching them to write. Inkblots and smudges were a waste of ink and space. They made the letter look untidy, rushed. Like it wasn't something written with care.
Stop that, Isha chastised herself and pushed the thoughts away. It was just a letter to some soldiers. She wasn't writing to the Hylian monarchy themselves. It had been silly of her to waste so much paper over a few mistakes.
The young adventurer gathered her letter and empty dishes, her muscles screaming in protest as she stood once more. Mercifully, Telma was currently sweeping the hallway, so she did not have to stray far from her rooms.
Telma informed her of a public bathhouse nearby that was open all hours, but Isha hardly heard her. That double-mattress bed was calling her name, and the bath could wait. She'd been far dirtier before.
Isha wasted no time in removing her outwear, tossing it to the floor aside her discarded travel bag and weapons. Her weapons. Though her eagerness for the bed did not allow her to stop and admire her equipment, her mind danced at the thought. Her weapons. That she carried on her adventures.
The mattress embraced her with a fwhoom. Her body seemed to sink into the plush padding. She almost cried from the relief.
The sheets were cold to the touch, the pillows just as soft and fluffy as the mattress. The heavy cover on top was like curling underneath a sheepskin, but Isha feared it would be too warm, so she pushed it back reluctantly.
This will be wonderful in the depths of winter. The woman wondered if she'd even be in Hyrule by that time. She had never been too fond of the cold, as it caused her bones to ache. The dreary Hylian winters also filled her with an inexplicable sense of melancholy, throwing her into sulking moods that lasted a majority of the season. Perhaps instead she would flee to the southern continent, where it was said that some cities never saw even a day of winter.
I wonder if Link would be interested in traveling to such places. Isha pulled one of the pillows to her chest, curling around it. Not like I care. He might insist such places are too dangerous.
She fell into a slumber so deep that her dreams could not even reach her.
