focused within a cage of honor and duty. It has never been the Hylian’s power he grew jealous of, but his determination to keep it restrained and locked away, never truly unleashing his full potential. Rising out of his form, Din lifts a single hand, catching the coming blade in a force field of sorts as time returns to its normal pace. Not bothering to attempt to free his blade, Link stares at the goddess in horror as she idly pushes the blade aside with invisible force. The Hylian has always been told he is the goddess’s chosen hero. Each of them beckoned him to thwart Ganondorf’s evil designs all those years ago, but now he stares into the focused eyes of a deity protecting the very evil he has sworn to destroy. Dropping his useless sword, he backs away, still staring in disbelief as the stunning woman stands immune to the rain and wind, existing in a realm all her own. Making her presence known for the first time in the battle, Navi drifts forward to confront the goddess.
“How dare you interfere,” she scolds, her voice livid with contempt.
“The game has changed. If she can intervene, so can I,” Din responds, her voice intimidating, yet calm.
“She aids her chosen,” Navi explains, fearless in the face of a god. “As do we all. You mustn’t fight in their stead.”
“So be it,” the goddess concedes, though her expression grows angrier before she vanishes. Utterly confused by what he’s just witnessed, Link stares at the open air in a stupor as the rain bears down on him. Rising to his feet, Ganondorf’s face has grown unrecognizable, distorted by dark magic he now resembles the evil pig-demon so many refer to him as. His discernment and reason have abandoned him in lieu of the most devastating power a mortal has ever known. Refusing to give Link another single moment to consider what he has seen and heard, Din’s vessel rockets forward with murder in his eyes. Barely able to snatch his shield off the ground in time, the hero is violently knocked backward by a grizzly punch, soaring through the air horizontally as his shield flies away. A series of chains burst from every direction, emerging from tree branches, piles of rubble, as well as the very earth below, whipping around the airborne Hylian like a dozen lassos. Now trapped in a spider web of heavy, conjured iron, Link vainly attempts to free himself from the tightly constricting restraints. His ego and pride left behind, Ganondorf holds no need for theatrics any longer, charging his nemesis like a feral beast while he summons his ending blow. Pieces of rubble skip and roll toward the Gerudo as the vortex in his right hand takes on its own center of gravity. Stopping in front of the paralyzed hero, he reaches back, making certain he obtains enough power to obliterate him completely. Every tree in sight bends and buckles toward the dark energy source, the rain twisting and swirling into a tornado as nothing can escape the black hole emanating from the warlock’s right hand. Dangling helplessly, Link braces for impact as the most destructive punch imaginable flies at his chest.
Diving into the fray, Saria screams as her sage summons all of its power to divert the coming attack. Defying laws of physics and nature, the small space between Ganondorf and his target is stretched out in a mind-bending moment, the punch failing to strike the Hylian, but releasing a hurricane of darkness all the same. A torrent of wind, sprouting trees, and tangling vines is summoned and annihilated as the unstoppable blast of evil is hardly slowed before it hits both Link and Saria with terrible force. All of the trees in the area collectively whip back and forth, many of them snapping in half as the explosion of force subsides. Marching over to assess the damage he has inflicted, the pig-demon grins crazily when he finds the hero unconsciously dangling, and the sage of the forest pathetically attempting to shield his wounded vessel lying nearby. The torrential rain has finally begun to relent, the hungry earth drinking the long awaited liquid down greedily. With an arrogant bellow, the Gerudo smashes the ethereal being with a back-fisted strike, snatching the green medallion left behind as the ghostly being is destroyed. Scarcely able to breathe, Saria stares up at Ganondorf, her eyes remaining defiant to the very end. Lifting a boot to crush the look from her face, a pain like no other bolts into the Gerudo king’s body like lightning. Having managed to free his upper half, Link produced the single shard of the Master Sword he recovered, stabbing his foe with the last of his strength to protect his childhood friend. A primal roar of fear and pain echoes through the forest as Link removes the sharp shard of steel, preparing to stab him again. Rapidly spinning into a punch, Ganondorf hits the hero hard enough to shatter the chains suspending him, and send him into a distant tree with a bitter crunch. The sting of the Master Sword is a pain he will never shake from his subconscious. The most horrible sensation throbs from his wound and it is enough to cut his visit to the forest short. Without a second thought, he storms out of the area, throwing fallen trees and debris aside as he runs.
Back in the Lost Woods, Din’s influence seems to lessen, and the Gerudo’s thoughts gradually clear just like the storm clouds overhead. Failing to hide his pain, he meanders onward, holding his shoulder as he struggles to remember the way out. Of all that has happened, and all the sensations he has been subjected to, he now knows one thing for certain. He is being watched. A pair of eyes track his every move from the thick canopy overhead, waiting until he is out of earshot to make a move. The young ninja has finally perfected his breathing, but is still a long way from soundless movement techniques. Skipping through the branches weightlessly, he arrives at the next intersection to find no one there. A figure lying in a bed of foliage at the perimeter of the clearing catches his eye, and after dropping to a better vantage point, he sees a dark form collapsed in a bed of foliage. Assuming his wound was much worse than he let on, Linu drops to ground level, cautiously drifting closer to discover the fate of the demon. As the massive cape comes into focus, the inexperienced scout sees his folly far too late. Only the warlock’s cape lies upon the ferns, rocks, and flowers, taking a humanoid shape at the right angle and distance. The fear paralyzing him completely, Linu doesn’t dare turn around to realize what manner of beast is now casting its shadow over him.
Guiding Light:
Brighter Suns and Longer Shadows
All the tragedy and sorrow she has witnessed through the years of decline could not prepare Zelda for the overwhelming misery her people now endure. Every ounce of faith they have held onto through the rise of Ganondorf, and the drought that followed, has slipped through calloused fingers. The worst kind of sorrow. Sorrow born of hope. Every shop built by tired hands, obliterated in a senseless act of aggression. Every home passed down through generations, destroyed by a hopeless cause of focused violence. The people cannot imagine why the gods would curse them in such a way, but deep down, the queen can feel the heartless hands in the sky passing by without a second thought. There are far grander schemes at play than the fate of a collection of measly citizens, but even so, Zelda will not forsake her people on the whims of the divine. It is now she finally realizes the torment her father withstood day after day. To be responsible for so many lives, and still finding herself sitting on her hands, wondering if she has made the right choices. Seated atop the mighty sigil of the royal family, carved into a large slab of stone proudly displayed upon the staircase leading up into the castle, the queen gazes out into the desolation that was once the prosperous Castle Town.
She tells herself again and again that it could have been much worse. Only a dozen structures lost amongst a population of fifty or more. The casualties were equally low, but in her eyes, a single soul lost is no better than a thousand. Sorely missing her final traces of innocence, she sits hunched over with each hand squeezing the stone on either side of her hips. Anything but dignified, she has yet to so much as attend to her frazzled hair and ruined dress, simply waiting to see if the sun will shine at all on this tragic day. The seemingly endless rain finally faded away a short time ago, yet the queen hardly took notice of the drastic weather changes. The potent smell of soaked earth seems dirty and disgusting to her, the sort of thing she used to revel in now transfor
ming into a cruel reminder of the subtle joys she must put out of mind. Her hair slaps against her back like a wet towel as she leaps from her perch, marching back into town with another compiled agenda in her head. The dark, grey clouds quickly tumble overhead, drifting into the mountainous north with a fierce wind howling high above. The few capable of heavy lifting create piles of broken boards and crumbled stone as the cleanup effort continues. Clearly exhausted, the weakened citizens and fatigued guardsmen soldier on, finding some unknown source of determination within themselves. Morning has drifted into afternoon, though the much cooler climate deceptively suggests otherwise, and Zelda decides the fatigued volunteers have earned a break.
“There’s fresh food in the castle,” she starts, collectively grabbing everyone’s attention. “Get some rest. We’ll pick up again later today.”
“Thank you,” one of the guards breathes, bowing before her.
“Please,” the queen insists, still embarrassed by such formality. “You’ve more than earned it.” The group