don’t know me! Stop talking like you do!” He shouts, his kick combination parried as the ninja twists past him into another powerful judo throw. Tossed about like a ragdoll, the boy fails to realize the flawless technique of his opponent is merely being used to deflect his anger. Were her conscience any less demanding, she would have killed him with her initial assault. Phasing into existence directly behind her, Mai distracts Sheik with rapid blows just long enough for Rift to rejoin the fight. Halfway into a lunging step, the boy’s shin is caught by the bridge of the Sheikah’s foot, tripping him forward as she dips past him and grabs the collar of his armor. Utilizing his own momentum once again, she forces her weight backward, resulting in the both of them twirling in a circle. Barely able to retain his footing, Rift stumbles into a nearby tombstone, colliding with it harshly as he turns back toward his approaching foe.
“I do know you,” Sheik assures, continuing to appeal to what is left of his contaminated soul. “It’s not too late to come back, Rift. There is a place for you in this world,” she points out, her eye twitching irritably when Mai assimilates next to him.
“Of course there is,” she agrees, helping the boy to his feet and pressing herself against him as if she is cowering from the ninja’s hurtful words. “Beneath the feet of all the violent, greedy people who don’t care about him. We’ve tried living in our place. We’ve given your world a chance. Now we claim our own place. Now we make our own world,” she continues, stepping away from her companion to point at Sheik accusingly. “A world without controllers like you. A world without the lust and hatred you and your people have produced. We will die before we return to the shackles of coins and crowns.”
“A stirring speech,” the ninja immediately retorts, eager to offer a counter argument to Rift’s captivated ears. “Why don’t you tell him what you’re really after? Why don’t you show him the world you would create for us all?”
“He’s already seen it,” Mai chuckles, turning to face the confused boy. “Though he can’t understand it just yet,” she sighs, taking his right hand and lifting it toward his eyes. “He will… In time.”
“Enough of your lies!” The Sheikah declares, fed up with the goddess’s deceptive rhetoric. “I know what you are,” she declares, her tone leveling as her focus amplifies. An unnatural wind begins to encase the ninja, her long braid slithering through the air weightlessly.
“I wouldn’t if I were you,” Mai smirks, glaring at her mischievously.
“I fight for the patron of wisdom,” Sheik announces, a golden light beginning to emanate from her form. Standing behind his goddess in a state of awe, Rift looks from Mai to the Sheikah and back again as he waits for the dialogue to reach a fathomable conclusion. The dark, grey gravestones begin to shine as the radiant light engulfing the ninja glows even brighter. “For your crimes against all of creation, I pass judgment in her stead. I return you to the very prison you escaped. You will be sealed within the balance of the Triforce once again, and your influence on the souls of the living with return to the pathetic state it once knew.”
“Try it,” the goddess dares with an aggressive tone, a crazed look of fearlessness crawling into her eyes. Still lost in a trance, Rift finally takes notice of Mai’s hand, dangling just out of Sheik’s view and pointing at the large monument at the rear of the graveyard.
“Nayru,” the Sheikah whispers under her breath. “Lend me your strength.” A lightning-fast handspring lands the ninja’s feet atop a tombstone, launching her high into the air as she leaps off the engraved slab. Her golden essence rapidly concentrates into an ethereal bow, a golden arrow of blinding light drawn tightly back as she squares up the shot. Behind her back, Mai initiates a three count as the boy fails to understand the depth of her plan. Every perceptible ounce of light in the area is pulled into the arrow, the graveyard eclipsed in the darkest black as Sheik prepares to fire. Three. Releasing her deep breath, the ninja smiles as escape from the holy projectile is no longer an option for the pale lady of the void. Two. A terrified step backward causes Rift to collide with the smooth stone behind him, and suddenly, he understands. One. “Fierce Deity!” The Sheikah screams as the glowing feathers slide through her fingers, “release him!”
“Now!” Rift cries at the top of his lungs, his eyes squinting through his outstretched palm. Unable to feel the impact of his goddess tackling him, the boy cringes as the purifying light bolts past him, and through the portal upon the tombstone. A shriek of pain is instantly drowned out by the thunderous blast of electricity when the projectile finds the ninja’s back. Quivering lines of divine light leap from her form, darting high into the clouds and destroying everything in their path upon the ground. The unimaginable knowledge of a thousand millennia flows in through all of her senses simultaneously, Sheik’s convulsing body acting as a lightning rod of divinity. Her screams rise and fall over the deafening sound of lightning, splitting tombstones and earth alike below her. Should the purifying torrent of light continue much longer, she will become a demigod. Her consciousness fading quickly, she feels Nayru herself pull her soul open, and climb in, spreading out and seizing control of her chaotic mind and spirit. Seconds later, the devastating storm subsides, and Zelda tumbles downward in her ruined dress, falling and falling until finally landing upon a patch of grass. Her ravished dress and wild hair lie upon the ground as if she were the contents of a paint bucket, splashed upon the grass and left to dry. Unable to move a muscle, the utterly depleted queen exhales in feverish bursts, slowly failing to remain conscious.
“Kill him,” she hears Mai command, somewhere in her vicinity. Without the energy to focus on her surroundings, she feels Rift hesitate more so than actually sensing it. “He will find another form and try to stop us again,” the goddess explains, undoubtedly running her fingers through his hair as she pushes him to defy his nature. “Kill him, Rift… For me.” The helpless groan of a ghostly man echoes through the wind, traveling between the few gravestones that still stand. Managing to weakly clench her fist, Zelda cannot feel the blades of grass between her fingers, though the resistance they provide assures her she is still able to move. “Her next. You can do it,” she assures, her pitiless tone turning the queen’s stomach. Feeling as if she is trapped within a dark nightmare, Zelda cannot convince her muscles to cooperate, whimpering and rocking slightly with every attempt. The boy is upon her, and her vision of the all-consuming void returns. A stoic sort of evil resonates within the swirling quagmire, inviting her in with its sheathed claws. Suddenly, a massive explosion shakes the earth violently, but the source is a complete mystery to her. The unwelcome exertion weakens her body even more so than before, and the last thing Zelda hears before passing out is footsteps quickly moving away.
Hylian Hero:
A Problem of Choice
The dark surroundings pass by in a blur as Link rides hard toward the castle. The massive explosion rocked even the distant forest as the Hylian returned from his brief excursion to Termina. Fearing the worst, he has no time to lament over the distractions he allowed to draw him away from his obligations. The only thing that matters now is Zelda’s safety, and should he find her harmed, he will never forgive himself. Flying past the bridge leading to Kakariko, Link cannot shake the feeling he should be riding in that direction. A sixth sense pulling him away from the castle, though it should be the first place he investigates. His feelings of dread get the better of him, and with a subtle jerk of the reins, Epona cuts sharply to the right and gallops into the village. The setting is eerily quiet, the vast majority of the inhabitants having moved into the castle until the slow moving repairs show some progress. The moon casts a dim glow upon the wreckage many people once called home. Circling the massive gorge at the village’s center, the Hylian notices several small rocks tumbling down the gradual hill near the windmill. The scraping of shifting stone sounds in short durations from all directions, as if Death Mountain itself is toying with the idea of co
llapse. A tense feeling overtakes his senses, something about his surroundings unsettlingly altered. Charging between decimated homes, Link makes his way past the steady trickle of tumbling pebbles and into the graveyard.
The signs of a recent battle are all too apparent as the hero dismounts his horse and scans the area. Random, incomprehensible gashes are carved into the mountainous walls enclosing the area, entire gravestones slashed in half by some unknown force. Ascending past the destroyed slab of rock at the entrance, Link glances left to discover exactly what he had hoped not to. Lying motionlessly in the grass, Zelda’s form appears as if it were tied to a horse and dragged across Hyrule Field. Rushing to her side, he quickly lifts her into his lap, brushing the hair out of her face and praying she is still alive. Her elegant visage, marred with dirt and small bruises, remains static despite Link’s efforts. He spends no time pondering how this could have happened, or who is responsible. Instead he simply blames himself for becoming distracted. For being too weak to put a stop to the violence sooner. Touching a hand to her cheek