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Chapter Text

For five years a burnished hilt black as night lances from the sand, stiller than the dead waters around it. Nestled at the pommel is a ruby gem. Dull. 

Crrrunch. Crrrrunch. Sssh. 

A meandering bokoblin ambles to a stop before the sand-encrusted hilt. Something about it fascinates. The bokoblin shuffles closer, tilting its lopsided head. A low rumble reverberates under its feet. 

Come closer. Yes. Closer.

Stubby clawed fingers brush against the hilt, shriveling rapidly from meaty red to pale yellow. The bokoblin’s cries wither. A once dull gem shines bright crimson. 

Skyloft

Five years ago, Link wandered beneath the Goddess Statue and looked with awe upon a sword that glimmered with ethereal light. Presently Link stares at the empty mantle it once proudly struck from. The air within this chamber is cool and clammy, absent of all divine strain it may have once carried. Of late he has been finding himself here, staring aimlessly at the tablets, the lifeless goddess emblem against the floor. 

“Link?” 

Zelda. 

“Hm?” Link only half turns to acknowledge her, nodding curtly. 

“Gaepora wants to speak with you. It’s about the surface colony.” 

Her voice is clipped. Formal. Link inclines his head, taking one last glance at the hollowed mantle.

~

“...bird problem,” Gaepora finishes. Link’s mind, even after so long, still reaches out for a ghost sword on his back. 

“What about Pipit?” Pipit was one of the few who had proven himself competent against the surface monsters. Link had taught him all he knew, then sent him to guide their slowly expanding colony. Gaepora scratches his brow. 

“He tried to handle a bokoblin nest on his own and…he’s recovering.” The words are spoken as if they are fragile glass. Everyone on the island it seems, has heard the screams of Link’s deepest night terrors. 

“Fledge? Karane?”

Gaepora shakes his head. 

“They’re busy. You’re going to have to go down.”

Link looks up at once, his blood rushing to his ears. For the past three years he’s been penned within Skyloft for “mental anguish,” as their best doctors try in vain to navigate the corroded twists of his mind. Three years ago they decided for his recovery, it was best to ban any further visits. 

“Okay,” Link says. Gaepora’s eyes soften.

“I wouldn’t ask this of you if…if it wasn’t our only option. Please be—”

“—Careful?” Link smiles. Gaepora immediately steps back with a cough, shame coloring his skin. 

“Yes, you can handle yourself. I don’t doubt it. But it has been some time.”

Some time. 

“You’re different, Link. And I fear for the worse.” Zelda reaches for his hand. Link slowly lowers his sword, returns to Skyloft piece by piece. 

“I’m…not.”

Surrounded by piles of empty stamina potions. Bits of broken glass. Training logs ripped to splinters. 

“You need help, Link,” Zelda pleads, urging him to drop the sword. Link stares at his feet. He’s expecting to see blood there, slowly eddying through the floorboards, painting his shoes crimson. His eyes turn upwards. 

“I know,” Link replies after a moment, somewhat blithely. Gaapora nods in that paternal way of his.

“I’ve made preparations. You’ll be leaving with Groose by the first light, and you’ll be returning by evening fall.” His face is firm as rock, leaving no room for argument. Link carefully inhales. Exhales. 

“Okay,” he says again.

Lanayru

Metallic footsteps drag over bright green grass, leaving furrows of dirt. Labored breath rattles though dry air. Ghirahim barely has the presence of mind to be ashamed of his weakened state, desperately seeking out more monsters. His feet shuffle. Shuuuushunk. Skkkkkushunk. The gem on his chest yawns open and raw, glittering freshly red. 

He freezes. A strange, sizzling burn tingles over his skin. 

“Ohoho! What do we have here?” 

The sizzle ramps up to a painful electricity, weaving around him into chains. Ghirahim snarls. His jaw grinds uncomfortably as he chokes out,

“Un…hand…me.”

“Your master is dead, didn’t you hear?” 

Ghirahim remains defiant, straining his neck to stare the accursed Thunder Dragon in the eye. His skin begins to melt under the heat. 

“My master will…rise again!!!” Ghirahim rasps, writhing as a slew of barbed stings dig under his metal flesh. Lanaryu strokes his beard thoughtfully. The pain subsides, but the chains remain. Ghirahim cranes his neck. 

“You dithering goddess pet! Release me now or you shall live to r—”

Ghirahim’s mouth slams shut. 

“I will have to summon my brethren for this!” 

Two others swirl into existence, stirring cyclones of sand and dirt. Golden light blazes outwards. The water dragon, whom Ghirahim is greatly acquainted with, and the fire dragon, whom he knows very little of. They both glare down at him. 

“What is this sniveling creature still doing here?!” The water dragon shrieks, lashing her tail. Her neck bends to leer at him, showing needled teeth. 

“Yes. Why haven’t you killed him?” The fire dragon adds. Ghirahim tries to call his magic, but his reserves are as desolate as the sea around them. The thunder dragon’s eyes glint with mirth. 

“I think death would be too easy a punishment, don’t you agree? For all the torment he has wrought.” 

Ghirahim seethes. The outrage! The flagrant disrespect! His lips remain glued shut. 

“Hm…what did you have in mind?” The water dragon muses, a sinister edge to her smile. The thunder dragon runs his claws down his unkempt beard. 

“We could put him through the Hero’s trials,” the fire dragon suggests, crossing his arms. “Seal his wicked magic.” 

The other two dragons look at eachother. They begin guffawing. 

“That is a brilliant idea! Yes! Make him suffer what the Hero did!” 

Once their irksome giggling subsides, they all fix their scaly gazes on Ghirahim. 

~

The first thing Ghirahim does is discard the hat. To humiliate him further, they’ve dressed him up in a mockery of Link’s attire, though mercifully his tunic is white, not that horrid green. They’ve allowed him one weapon. Ghirahim furiously paces the field of grass around Skyview temple, swinging his sword into anything that stands still enough. 

Each time he tries to leave, a golden barrier blooms. 

After several frenzied attempts to break it, Ghirahim slowly pivots to examine the stairs before him. 

“Do they think me some simpleton?!” He hisses, flinging a pebble at the mechanism over the door. It pings. Glows red. The door rattles open, shaking loose clouds of dust. Ghirahim scoffs. He saunters in, intending to complete whatever infernal task they have set for him in splendid time. 

The stairs sink down into deep shadow. The smell of cool, musky air rises to his nose. Ghirahim sniffs and stomps down. 

~

The monsters attack him, their eyes glowing goddess blue, and it irritates Ghirahim to no end. The creatures are dealt with easily. 

“Pah. They think this is a trial?”

He swats a skulltula aside with a flick of his wrist, yawning as he strides past. A new chamber opens, one in the center of a circular room, walls rising close to the ceiling. Ghirahim kicks down the door and makes short work of the stalfos. A chest emerges from pure light, an obnoxious flair of the goddess. 

“Well, if there is one thing you and I agree on your majesty, it’s exquisite presentation,” he mutters, reaching back to flick his non-existent cloak. Ghirahim’s expression sours even further. The chest contains a insectoid contraption he recalls seeing Link fly about, buzzing like a metal gadfly.

The rest of the temple goes by smoothly. Though the loss of his magic stings when he must crawl through narrow tunnels, swim through ice cold cave water, and cut through webbing, Ghirahim prides himself on his excellent agility. Finally, he makes it to a set of familiar double doors. A rush of irritation floods through him.

“What could they possibly pit me against in here? Another Link? Myself?” He scoffs. “Those wretched snakes must be giggling to themselves, how pitiful!” 

Ghirahim finds his arm unwilling to lift. An emotion he hasn’t felt since being bound to Demise comes stirring from deep underneath his metal chest. He’s…nervous. Whatever awaits him here will be nothing but a bitter reminder of failure.

“Pah!”

He shoves open the door.

Click click click.

Ghirahim’s strides echo alone in the dull chamber, coated in a fine layer of dust. A few of the pots scattered around the perimeter have beetle carcasses beside them. He inhales the molder, tapping his fingers against his hilt with increasing speed. 

“Out with you!” 

Silence. 

A loose brick in the ceiling allows a ray of light to peer inside, illuminating thousands of dust particles swirling in the air. Ghirahim slowly paces the room. He kicks a jar spitefully, sending it smashing against the wall. It shatters more quietly than it should. It seems the whole temple, without the goddess’s purpose, has begun to show its true age. Once resplendent paint faded to gray, tiles cracked, weeds sprouting between them. Ghirahim’s unease grows. He tries to break out, but the golden barrier fences him in. 

“MY PATIENCE IS WEARING THIN!” Ghirahim spits. “ENOUGH OF THIS—TEASING!” 

“Enough of this—teasing!” A faint voice replies.

“Who said that?!” 

“Who said that?”

Ghirahim slashes his sword behind him, meeting nothing. 

“A game then?” he chuckles. “I take pleasure in games.” 

“I take pleasure in games too.”

Ghirahim whips around to face his own shadow, stretching spindle-thin, streaking across the wall. He watches as a black creature claws out of the silhouette. Large red eyes peel open with a metallic laugh just like his. 

“I prefer to be indulged with my full title— Lord Ghirahim, but I’m not fussy.”

The creature steps towards him. Ghirahim’s lip curls in disgust. 

“What is this mockery?” 

“Mockery? I am as much as you as you are me!” The shadow laughs. 

“Silence! I am the true demon lord, you are a mere plaything!” Ghirahim points his sword at it. “I’ll deal with you swiftly, as all abominations should be!” 

“You call me an abomination? Look at yourself first! Demon Lord? Don’t make me giggle! You rescinded that power long ago to be Demise’s sniveling whelp.” 

The shadow bursts into diamonds and slams down behind him. Ghirahim jumps clear by a hair, rattled. 

“I became more powerful than any demon could ever dream of!” He dodges another slice, returning the attack with his own. A shower of sparks scatters at the contact. 

“And what do you have now?” The shadow cackles and appears beside him. Ghirahim grunts at a leg slamming into his ribs, hurtling him against the wall. His vision doubles. Visions of plunging behind Link dance behind his eyes, sending him tumbling with a snap of his hand, giddy with aggression. 

“Shut y—” Ghirahim’s throat creaks. His imitation shoves him further up by the neck.

“Shut my what? My mouth? Your most favorite part?” 

Ghirahim tries kicking his heel against the shadow’s chest, but he doesn’t budge. 

“This—this isn’t correct, you serpents! I spared the brat!” 

The hand tightens.

“But I’m you, and you’re me. And you’ve failed.” 

Ghirahim claws at the arm, but his attacks bounce off. The red eyes seem to grow larger. He kicks out with the last of his breath. His heel connects with where his diamond once was with a brittle crunch. The shadow grunts and releases him. Ghirahim rushes to the center of the room, collecting his sword with a snarl. The shadow teleports— but this time he’s ready. 

Their swords slam with increasing violence, ripping through the air so fast the metal vibrates. 

“Rusty!”

Ghirahim’s sword flies out of his grip. Stars explode in his eyes as the shadow’s hand whips across his face. 

~

Link finishes off the last of the guays with a sigh. Groose is busy frantically washing his hair, screeching all the while. 

“It’s gone, Groose,” he tries. 

“I can still smell it!”  Groose splashes more water over his head. “I can’t meet Zelda stinking like…like…bird!” 

“She’ll like you no matter what,” Link grumbles. He glances at skyview temple over his shoulder, frowning when he sees the door is open. 

“Groose?”

“Yeah Link?”

“Do you know if anyone went in the temple?”

Groose frowns, peering over his shoulder with his mouth half open. 

“I think Pipit led a scavenging party in there last week?” He scratches his brow. “Yeah.” 

“They forgot to close the door,” Link says. “I’m going to close it.” 

Groose’s expression turns wary.

“I don’t know Link…”

“I’ll be fine,” he replies firmly. 

Striding up to the temple doors sends him back five years so strongly it seems that one foot lands in the present, while the other foot steps in the past. Link keeps his features neutral despite the flickering bodies he sees in every crevice. The door mechanism is dull purple, splayed open as it has been since he left it. His neck prickles. 

“Whoa, spooky…” Groose mumbles.

Link jumps. 

“Groose! Don’t sneak up on me like that!” 

He sheepishly rubs his neck.

“Sorry, but you know what the docs said about these places.” 

Link inhales carefully and nods. They both shove the doors closed, their brittle creaking thudding into a deep silence that stirs his heart. 

~

Ghirahim drops to the floor sharply and lashes out with his leg, knocking his doppelgänger flat. 

“Making me resort to such churlish movements—” he scrambles for his sword and dashes over. The shadow is already standing again with a sickening grin. 

“You’re still a worthless jester!” 

“You’re nothing!” Ghirahim snarls, finally breaking past his own guard, jamming his blade through the shadow’s chest. The red eyes blink in confusion. He steps back a few paces, sword sticking out his back. 

“Impossible…”

The shadow erupts into purple fog. Ghirahim picks his sword up and tries to summon an ounce of victory, but his breath beats hollow. The doors to the spring open five years too late. Ghirahim stalks up the stone path, flicking his sword through the water with a growl.

“What now, worms?!”

But he knows what’s next. After all, he was a large part of it. A golden light blooms before him. 

“You will now complete the trial of Eldin.”

Ghirahim grinds his teeth as the divine light takes him away.

Chapter Text

Any measure of pride Ghirahim once felt over his creation burns to a crisp—as do the edges of his hair. The scaldera shrieks and begins to inhale anything in vicinity. 

“Overgrown clump of magma!” Ghirahim hisses, patting his bangs out while he darts up the slope, ripping more bomb flowers from the tile. The heat broils everything around him, making each inhale thick and scorching. It’s hard to remain sharp. 

“Feast on this!”

He hurls an armful down the scaldera’s throat with a maniacal cackle. The massive rock-encrusted lips smack a few times then it belches smoke, stumbles about like a teetering top, and promptly splatters into lava. Ghirahim tiptoes around a puddle with a low sigh.

“Small wonder this useless fiend barely singed that brat.” He scuffs his heel against the stone. An aimless, wrenching void he can’t ignore lurks within his mind. A masterless sword. What a cruel joke. 

“What would you have me do next?” Ghirahim says acidly. 

 The golden light emerges once again.

~

Link frowns, cutting down yet another deku baba. 

“This isn’t right,” he mutters, “why are there so many?”

Groose and Karane both shrug. Apparently, one person isn’t sufficient. 

“When I sealed Demise—“ Link grunts, bashing an octorock’s projectile back at it, “—monster activity went way down. It doesn’t make sense that it’s suddenly increased over what, a week?” 

Karane interjects.

“Maybe it’s their natural cycle, you know? Like how pumpkins only flourish under the right conditions!” 

Link shakes his head slightly. 

“I don’t think monsters are the same as pumpkins.” 

“Yeah! Duh!” 

Karane huffs something rude under her breath, squinting at Groose peevishly. Link trudges forward. They clear out the deku babas a good radius around the settlements, but all the while Link has a familiarity growing in the back of his mind. 

“Zelda told me to escort you back to Skyloft after we cleared the nest,” Groose reminds him. 

“Right, yeah,” Link mutters distractedly. 

The flight back to Skyloft is the same as it ever is. The weather never changes, perfect sunniness and light rains. Link pats his loftwing. Looking over his shoulder, the pillars to each region glow. Eldin’s orange is right across from him. 

Groose’s pomped brown loftwing circles in from behind, cawing loudly. 

“Hey! Are you daydreaming again?” 

Link sighs.

“I’m fine, Groose.” 

He urges his loftwing to fly a bit faster, swooping down to Skyloft. He hops off onto the planks. Link aches to ask Fi her thoughts, to hear her cool calculating voice and know at least someone would never change. He glances up at the portal to Eldin. Link shakes his head slightly. 

“Zelda and I are going to the Lumpy Pumpkin tonight!” Groose puffs. “Wanna come along?” 

“No, I don’t want to ruin your date,” Link replies. 

“Aw! You wouldn’t!” he protests. 

“Really, it’s fine. I’m tired anyway.” He feigns a yawn. Groose scratches his head ponderously. 

“Well, if you say so…”

He shrugs and mumbles to himself as he turns away. Link looks back out across Skyloft, never more aware of how small it really is. He retreats to his house. Night falls, creeping down like a curtain, stars spinning overhead. Link tucks his arms behind his head as he gazes upwards. He’d had the skylight commissioned, a wide circular window to the heavens. Sure, during a full moon it may as well be a lamp, but Link doesn’t mind. 

Most nights he hardly sleeps anyway. 

“Something’s going on,” Link mutters to himself. He tries to find comfort in counting the constellations but his thoughts keep turning to the monsters. Link groans and hops out of bed, yanking on his boots for a nighttime stroll. The soft cool air outside, empty and vast, does little to soothe his burgeoning anxiety. 

Pipit is out and about patrolling. When he spots Link, his face morphs into that expression of slight concern and wariness he’s grown sick of. 

“Link! Getting some of that fresh midnight air?” 

“Really infusing my lungs with it,” Link replies. 

“Ah! That’s wonderful!” Pipit shifts his weight. “You should be resting after that trip to the settlement, though.” 

“I’ve handled worse, Pipit. Worry about yourself for once,” Link replies as nicely as he can. 

Pipit blusters.

“I-I I’m fine! I’m perfectly fine!” 

Link raises an eyebrow. Pipit clenches his jaw tightly, trying to school his expression back into a happy-go-lucky smile.

“Consider me convinced.” 

Pipit splutters some more but Link lifts a hand. “Look, if anyone can relate to whatever it is you’re going through, it’s me. I’m the last person to go and spill it everywhere.” 

Pipit flushes. 

“I’m sorry about that, I really am.” 

“It’s fine. I was in a bad place,” Link assures. 

“Alright…” Pipit sighs. “Karane and I have been fighting. But…that’s not all. Um, did Groose tell you I led an expedition into Skyview Temple?” 

“He mentioned it.”

“Well…I heard this strange noise and went to investigate by myself. I knew I shouldn’t go alone, but by that point I was just so tired of dealing with the others. I just don’t know how Eagus does it…”

Pipit stares blankly into the sky a moment. 

“I found this hidden door, all overgrown. I cut my way inside and I found…this…person. Dead. Very dead. All withered up like…like a fruit in the sun. I turned tail and ran back to the group so fast.”

Pipit sniffs, his voice turning watery.

“I’ve never seen a corpse before. It sounds so stupid, my father died and I saw him…but this was different.”

He presses the heels of his palms into his eyes. 

“I can’t stop thinking about those sunken eye sockets. I can’t stop thinking about it. I know this is so minor compared to everything you went through,” Pipit adds, barely audible. 

Link stands there blinking for a moment. Automatically he wants to ask where exactly but refrains. 

“I get it Pipit.” Link pats his shoulder. “No one is prepared to see things like that, especially here. But I promise the memory will fade if you can distract yourself long enough.” 

Pipit nods.

“Thanks Link…uh, have a good walk…I’m going to talk to Karane.”

He plods off. Link exhales once he’s out of earshot. He strolls around for a while, his head refusing to clear out like he’d hoped. It’s too peaceful. No noise to take his mind away…

The night air is clear…

Before, monsters appeared all night. Before. Batreaux, semi-uncanny but Hylian enough. Link swallows. A cold aching feeling blossoms in his gut. All over he re-pictures the stream of diamonds that sputtered into thin air from Demise’s hand, supposedly gone with his master. 

He looks back out at Eldin’s red flare. Link quietly signals for his bird and jumps off a back platform. 

“Stay under Skyloft,” Link whispers as they swoop down, wind whisking past his ears. “We need to get there before daybreak.” 

The flight to Eldin is usually a short one, but with dodging patrols and rocks in the dark, it stretches to an hour. Finally, the familiar hot gritty air buffets his face, tiny cinders swirling about. 

“I’ll be back in the morning,” Link says, then launches himself off. He always keeps Zelda’s sailcloth tucked on his loftwing’s saddlebags, and now he unfurls it a good distance from the arid dirt. It’s not quite dark with all the lava— but it’s quiet, suffused with dim red-orange light. 

Link walks around for a little while. 

“Ledd! Cobal! I need your help!”

He sighs at the lack of response. 

“What did I expect?” Link grumbles. He begins the annoying trek to the mogma’s den, dodging fire chuchus and keese to avoid making noise. Something about the silence wants to remain undisturbed. Once within the dank cave, he stumbles upon a large group of mogmas having some sort of party around a pile of dead pyrups, singing in a rough, scratchy language he’s never heard them use. 

“Excuse me,” Link coughs. 

“Hey yo! It’s Link!” Cobal cries, immediately stopping everyone in their tracks. “Welcome to the party! We’re gonna have an awesome feast!” 

They all surround him, patting his shoulders and punching his arms. Link’s head whips between them. Their hits are incredibly strong. 

“Uh—”

“Hey! Get Link some meat already!” Tyto demands, waving his claws. Link realizes they’re all the way out of the ground for once. Their shoulders are huge, but their legs are incredibly short and stubby in comparison. And they all smell. 

“I’m fine, I ate before I came here,” Link protests. 

“Aw come on! Just a little piece, you need it! Look at those skinny arms.” For emphasis, Plats grabs his wrist and shakes his arm around. Link tries to wrench it free but to no avail. 

“I uh…I uh…”

Link blanches at the sight of a hunk of steaming flesh, much similar to what bokoblins left behind at their camps, oozing liquid. Plat shakes his hand in encouragement. 

“Choice piece for the hero!”

The mogmas cheer, lifting him up into the air like a ragdoll. When they finally let him down, Link is forced to admit he’s never eaten meat. 

“What?! How are you alive?!!” Tyto cries. 

“Potions…and soup.”

Cuisine is a fairly new concept to the Hylians of Skyloft. They’d read about such things, but still hesitate to eat surface fruit or herbs. Link is no exception. 

“You green fellas are just the oddest bunch,” Tyto sighs. “Come on, just a little piece, widen your tunnels!”

Link winces as he gently tears a corner off the meat, nauseated by the liquid dripping down the backs of his hands. He chews for a good while. It’s chewier than anything he’s ever eaten. After an eternity of expectant mogma stares, he swallows. 

“That is…actually delicious,” Link mutters in astonishment. After having another good chunk of the pyrup he finally remembers why he came down in the first place. 

“So have you guys seen any…creepy white guys around lately? Or heard anything from Gorko?” 

“Like those red creeps? Oh, yeah, they’ve been popping up recently. But with’a few bombs, no trouble!”

Ledd puffs proudly. 

“Not the red ones. Just a tall one, sort of how I look.” 

The mogmas scratch their heads. A few still crunch on pyrup bones. 

“Would this guy be…all fancy-schmancy?” Ledd flaps a hand over one ear. 

“Yeah,” Link says. “Yeah.”

“Me and Cobal saw him traipsing up to The Earth Temple this morning, he was cursing like you wouldn’t believe! I figured he was one of you fellas.” 

“Well…” Link pauses. “Right.We sent him down here a day ago to do some scouting. I’m here to go check on him.” 

“Haha! Good luck getting up there this late! The lava beast is roaming!” 

“The what?!”

~

Ghirahim feels a strange itching sensation on the back of his neck. 

~

Link grinds his teeth in frustration. The mogmas, with their poor eyesight and lackadaisical grasp on Hylian, hadn’t been very insightful about the so-called “lava beast.” Link is resigned to sneaking around perfectly traversable terrain.  Nothing is out of the ordinary. Fire keese, chu chus, and a few bokoblins walking about. Significantly more now since his last visit three years ago. 

Link rubs his brow with a low sigh. 

The Earth Temple stands before him, seemingly undisturbed. Link takes a step forward. Cold sweat begins to dribble down his back, his heart starts to pump faster. 

“Come on,” he whispers, “I’ve done this before.” 

He swallows thickly. 

Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrm.

Link whips around. A huge creature claws up the cliff’s edge, hands made of lava spewing and steaming as it cartwheels itself towards him. Link dashes into the temple so fast he smashes his toes on the door, shoving it open enough to squirm inside.

“What in the name of Hylia was that?!” Link pants. He listens to his own uneven breathing fade into dull echoes. Link glares down the staircase. 

He slowly descends the stairs, still unsure what itch led him to Eldin, and not within Skyview Temple or even the Ancient Citadel. Is it a leftover from the goddess’s power, radiating from Fi while she remained sheathed? Or is it just an urge to backtrack through his memories, and he only happened to stumble across this?  

Dread rises up his throat the further in he goes. It becomes obvious someone has passed through here, all the puzzles are done, the massive rock ball is nowhere in sight, and the doors are open. Link stops. Why does he need to do the puzzles? Can’t he simply…teleport? 

Link rushes up to where he fought the Scaldera. 

A huge lava puddle remains.

Chapter Text

Sand scatters across the wind, bouncing off the skin of Ghirahim’s cheek every now and then. He sniffs loudly. 

An ampilus scuttles a few paces down the slope, fizzling in and out with electricity. Tumbleweeds bounce and roll, occasionally bumping into the rocks. Ghirahim dusts sand off his shoulders. He recalls the days of turquoise blue water as far as the eye could see, writhing with monsters that slithered and coiled in the dark. 

If he could reach out with his mind now, find the serpents who’d once obeyed his call—

“ SCEEEEEE!!” a bokoblin takes a swing at him. 

“Ugh! Away with you, worthless meat!” Ghriahim backhands the bokoblin to the side and firmly stabs it. It’s irritating. His presence inspires their population, but the dragon’s influence turns them mutinous. Gates and gears shift and turn back to how they once were as he approaches, only for him to open and shut them all over. He unlocks a gate to the mines after much needless scurrying. The gears click click click, turning into a long dark staircase down. 

“It is truly a mystery how your chosen hero still adores you,” Ghirahim mutters, stalking down into the depths.

~

Ghirahim sheaths his sword after a irritating fight with an overgrown aracha. He kicks the swollen stinger to the side and stalks out to a massive hallway, lined with the most impudent statutes he’s ever seen. He shoots a large timestone and climbs into a mine cart that ferries him to a very familiar place indeed. 

“Well. We meet again.” Ghirahim bows to the crumbled gate of time. It tastes like acid, being here. “I was so close! So very close! And then that wretched servant of the goddess—“ Ghirahim snarls and slams his boot through a fallen stone, turning it to fine powder. “DO YOU KNOW HOW IT FEELS TO RUST?!” 

Ghirahim sucks in a few breaths, trying to calm himself. 

“For thousands of years I sat by my master’s side, powerless…for thousands of years my mind wasted…”

He kicks another stone. Ghriahim stops short. 

“It’s his fault! He’s the one who lost to a mere boy! After everything I did for him, I set the stage! I pulled the strings! He couldn’t kill a child, he is the one who failed!” Ghirahim cackles. “All my effort— dust!”

He stalks around the gate, displacing more rubble.  “My master is a fool,” Ghirahim whispers. Even with Demise’s spirit sucked away, he still looks over his shoulder. Ghirahim swallows. 

“You failed me. ”

He exhales.

“And now I’m alone, as it should have always been.” 

Ghirahim absently scratches his scarred ear, arranging his bangs to cover it. 

~

Skyloft 

“So we were thinking that if we use our kind of lumber, it wouldn’t deplete Faron Woods so badly—“ Horwell starts.

“And ferry the logs down at a snail's pace? Are you a fool?!” Owlan snaps. 

Link adjusts his seat, feeling his knuckles sink further into the skin of his cheek.

“Link—“

“Link!”

They both whirl on him. 

“Huh?”

“Who’s plan is better?” 

Link tries to keep his eyes open. Last night’s revelations and adventures has him spent, weary and sore in a way he hasn’t been since…well, five years ago. Zelda sits across from him, eyeing him suspiciously. 

“They both sound terrible. Think of something else,” Link yawns. He shoves out of his chair and walks outside. His stomach growls loudly. While he’s vaguely considering asking the mogmas for more roasted pyrup, Zelda pokes his shoulder. 

 Link whips around, reaching for a hilt that isn’t there. “Oh. Zelda. You caught me off guard.” 

Zelda twists her fingers anxiously. Her hair is drawn up for a long day of fieldwork, and her eyes are darkened with circles. 

“I could tell you were daydreaming the entire meeting.” 

“Forgive me your highness, it was dreadful,” Link says. 

“I told you to stop calling me that,” Zelda grits out. 

“What is it?” 

“You smelled like Eldin this morning,” she replies evenly. Link shifts his weight. 

“Are you going to have me locked up again?” 

Zelda shakes her head. “Link, I know I’ve lost your trust. I’ll try for every day of my life to get it back, if that’s what it takes. But please, I don’t want you to get hurt again!” 

Link takes a step back. The rest of the meeting streams outside, glancing at them curiously. Zelda smiles and waves until they’re out of earshot. 

“You had no issue letting me get hurt on your behalf,” Link says quietly. 

“Link—“

Link takes a deep breath, looking off into the clouds. 

“I’m not being fair to you, I’m sorry, but you haven’t been fair to me. I can’t stay up here forever, not after tasting life beneath the clouds.”

A loftwing caws above them. The sun sparkles, perfect blue sky as always. 

“I understand Link, I do, but…why did you visit Eldin of all places?” 

Link shrugs. Zelda opens her mouth, then thinks better of it. She nods.

“Alright. I won’t tell Gaepora. If you’re happy, I am too.” 

Link manages a small smile. 

“Yeah.” 

Come evening he flies down to Lanayru, following the same hunch that led him to Eldin. He finds the scorpion’s gutted hide, the minecart departed, the time stone active. 

“What is going on?” Link mutters. “He’s been to Faron, Eldin, now the mines…so he must be going to the old temple next.”

Link hms.

“Maybe I’ll visit the settlements.” 

~

The Sealing Grounds

Ghirahim viciously bludgeons The Imprisoned’s stone spire into his skull, snarling and screaming with fury.

“WORTHLESS OVERGROWN GRUB!!” 

The beast groans and shakes him off. At first, Ghirahim had been hesitant to strike his master’s inchoate form, but his anger had bubbled up and soon he was very much enjoying the stress relief. 

Ghirahim slices his fleshy white toes off with relish. He hops about with glee when it topples, jamming the spire back in with his foot. The creature howls and bursts into a rain of silver scales, slipping under the earth. 

~

Faron Woods

Link had tried to sneak away to no avail, stuck helping the settlers until everyone stops in their tracks. The ground is quaking, rumbling as it once had during Link’s bouts with The Imprisoned. He drops the basket of herbs Orielle had given him to peruse. All the settlers glance around in confusion. 

“Pipit! Your sword!”

Pipit clutches his scabbard incredulously. 

“W-whatever for?!” 

“I…I need to check something.”

Orielle picks up the basket. She exhales sharply as she scoops the greens back in. 

“Sorry, Orielle, the earthquake startled me,” Link apologizes. “Pipit!” 

The ground rumbles again, Link knows the pattern well, this is the tremor caused by the beast’s fall. Pipit chews his lip around.

“Eagus said you never returned his last sword,” he says. 

Link is embarrassed to remember breaking the sword on a aracha’s hide during his visit to Lanayru Mines.

“I’ll hand it right back, I promise,” he tries. Pipit’s people-pleasing nature wins out and he hands the sword over. Link thanks him and takes off in a sprint. By the time he makes it to The Sealing Grounds the phantom Imprisoned is gone, and so is whatever felled it. Link walks down to the center. Of course, the stone spire is no longer there— replaced by the master sword itself within the temple, collecting heavenly dust. Link putters around the shaven grass for a minute. Boot prints scatter the soil, and if Link places his boot in one, his foot only fills half the indent. He scratches his neck. 

“LINK!” Orielle yells from the edge. Zelda stands behind her, pale as a sheet. Link immediately hurries back up the slope. 

“I’m fine,” he assures, handing the sword back to Pipit. Zelda nods faintly.

“Yes, let’s…let’s go back to the settlement.”

On the walk back Link can feel all their eyes on him, silently wondering if he’s slipping down memory lane. 

“I…made a mistake. It was just a regular quake,” Link mutters. Pipit pats his back.

“I don’t blame you!”

Zelda is less ready to swallow the lie, glancing at him through her bangs. The rest of them mutter quietly behind. Evening falls and the settlers retreat back to Skyloft— leaving only a handful behind to watch the materials. Why they bother dividing their time between land and sky eludes him. 

Zelda comes to stand beside Link as the loftwings spiral out of sight. 

“I recognised that quaking too,” she begins. 

Link scuffs the dirt. 

“Yeah, eerily similar wasn’t it?” 

Zelda crosses her arms and faces him.

“Link. What aren’t you telling me?”

For a moment, it’s almost how things used to be— Link the daydreamer, Zelda the one to yank him back. Yet the cloud of resentment blooms between them, no matter how many years have passed. Link remembers thinking about marrying her once. 

“It’s nothing you need to worry about,” he mutters. 

“I’m going to get worried anyway and you know it.” 

Zelda adjusts her skirts, chin tucked down. Link weighs his options. Tell Zelda and have her relive some very painful memories, or lie and get caught, which would then get the same result.  

“He’s alive,” Link finally says. 

“He— who’s…who’s alive?” Zelda’s eyes dart frantically over his face. 

“Demise’s sword. Ghirahim.” 

“Oh Link, that is such a cruel joke to play—“

Link lifts a hand.

“I saw him, well, more what he left behind. The mogmas told me they’d seen someone matching his exact description, and there are more monsters today than usual, right?”

Zelda nods slowly, pacing backwards until she hits the edge of a wooden bench. She sits. 

“Is he trying to…bring…”

“I don’t think so. We’d both be dead if he were.” 

“Are you sure this isn’t just a coincidence?” Zelda pleads. Link shakes his head. She rakes her nails through her hair. “I don’t know what to do!” 

“You don’t need to do anything, you’ve done enough. I’m going to find him and kill him,” Link spits with such ferocity Zelda’s gaze snaps back on him. 

“You…Link…you don’t kill people!” 

“Good thing he’s not a person.”

Zelda looks back down at her hands.

“I see now that she— I mean, I pushed you too far too quickly. It wasn’t right.” 

“No, it wasn’t, but it had to be done,” Link says quietly. “And I have to do this.” 

Zelda swallows, her mouth pinched. 

“You’ll have to track him down, I can extend my senses as the goddess. He might still be here.” 

Zelda shakily stands and places her palms on the ground. After a few moments she rises, wiping her face. 

“He’s here.”

Link gathers his gear.

“I’ll need another sword.”

~

The so-called silent realm is anything but, guardians sharpening their blades and blaring loudly as he dashes for the first glowing tear. His fist closes around it and at once the realm is peaceful and silver. 

Ghirahim looks over the place in…interest. Not awe. The sky is light gray, the faintest hint of blue, all suffused with a silver effervescence. Ripping silver water draws back and forth in the distance, towering trees moving with a silent breeze. Their branches don’t rustle. 

“Another fetch quest? This is getting rather old,” Ghirahim says to the emptiness. He goes about collecting the insipid tears and at the end receives Faron’s dried scale. Ghirahim stares at it, grimacing as he slowly lowers it around his neck.

“Ugh, disgusting…”

He faces the one body of water that could possibly lead anywhere. Ghirahim’s face screws up as he slowly walks straight down, feet thudding on the soft silt with a jolt. On land he can move just fine, but something about the nature of his binding makes it so he can’t swim. Ghirahim clanks across the bottom and emerges inside a massive tree.

He wrings water from his hair.

Stomping into Lake Floria is far from a pleasant swim, peeling seaweed and algae off his tunic without end. Ghirahim kills as many creatures as he can get away with, although the dragon’s curse doesn’t allow him to murder the jellyfish. He makes it to Faron’s pitiful domain. She commands him to collect bath water and he loses his temper. 

“YOU ARE CLEARLY HEALED!! WHAT IS THE POINT?!”

Faron laughs deeply.

“If Link had to do it, so must you! Now run along little demon.” 

Ghirahim tries to stab her but a barrier appears to bounce him back so hard he slams into the marble. Snarling and ripping off seaweed among other things he steps back into the water and trudges all the way back out. 

“I will make her into a fine dish,” Ghirahim muses, “chopped dragon’s tail. Then I will eat it in front of the others.” 

He chuckles at the thought. 

~

Lake Floria

“He might be in Skyview temple,” Link had said. 

“Wait until he’s gone through the ancient citadel if this pattern is correct. He’ll be exhausted and weakened. Then you strike.”

So he had waited until Zelda’s senses told him he had moved on. It’s pitch black outside, four o’clock in the morning Link guesses. He stands before the waterfall now, cool mist glazing his skin. 

It’s strange to be back here under the moon rather than the sun. Link steels himself and descends into the darkness. It takes some coordination to hop across the lily pads with so little light, more still to make it up the narrow corkscrew stairs, all while a nasty feeling in his gut grows stronger. A cloying presence deep in the air. 

Link steps silently in the lotus-petaled chamber. His eyes adjust to the dim. Ghirahim slowly straightens from the mess of metal parts, discarding his giant gold scimitar. His exposed ear twitches. Link shuffles behind a pillar, holding his breath. 

“Is something there?” Ghirahim’s cold sneer is clear in each word. A metal whisper announces that he’s drawn his blade. Link steps out of the shadows, his mouth twisted in anger.

“YOU!” Ghirahim spits. Link draws his sword and points it at him, adrenaline hammering through his veins. Ghirahim stalks towards him. “THIS! THIS IS THE FINAL INSULT!”

Their swords collide with a flash of sparks. 

Link’s shoulders tense, half expecting him to teleport, but he doesn’t. The exchange lasts for several minutes before Ghirahim steps to the side, slamming his sword into Link’s neck.

“Peacetime hasn’t been kind to you,” he hisses. “You’ve become sloppy .” 

Link manages to block his sword, but the effort it takes is more than he wants. 

“Why are you here?!” Link snarls. 

Ghirahim laughs. His laugh has always been the kind of sound that burrows into your ears, no  matter the volume. 

“The sky child speaks! My, I thought the goddess had taken your tongue, I wouldn’t have been surprised…”

Their swords fly apart. Ghirahim’s style of fighting has changed, he no longer dashes away or appears behind him. He dodges as if dancing. Link’s arms burn. He’s out of practice, Ghirahim’s right. It’s been years since he fought a challenging opponent. His sword shatters the next block. 

Ghirahim tries to stab him but his rapier is stopped by a golden glow an inch from Link’s chest. 

“WRETCHES!” He tries again, this time Link’s throat, but once again is blocked. Link stares at him, slowly catching his breath. Ghirahim slams his sword over and over into every possible vital point, rebuffed with equal force each attempt. 

Ghirahim pauses for a split second. 

Link lunges, stabbing his broken sword into Ghirahim’s chest, where the ragged gem would be. Ghirahim staggers back. Oil black blood spills down his front. 

“This…this isn’t fair—” he touches the hilt. “I won!”

Link starts to get dizzy. His arms are leaden, hundreds of hours of pain swimming behind his eyes. 

“Why are you here?” Link repeats. Ghirahim yanks the blade out with a snarl. 

“Because Demise failed you graceless brat!” 

The raw anger in his voice is nothing performative. “At least your insipid little goddess blade had the mercy of being put to sleep!” 

Link steps backwards several paces. 

“The dragons captured you,” he says, knowing it is the truth by Ghirahim’s enraged expression. 

“You think me sadistic, hm? You’re the one who itches for blood, boy!”  The rage smolders out abruptly. He inhales. “Run along to your…Zelda. I have wasted enough breath on this squabble.” Ghirahim kicks the bloodied sword across the floor and stomps out the golden door. Link runs after him, nearly tripping through the barrier, only to find nothing. The spring gurgles innocently. Link numbly retreats back inside. 

He sits down on top of Kolokto’s head, wiping ink black blood off his cheek. 

Chapter Text

Lanayru Sand Sea

Ghirahim isn’t surprised in the slightest when Link shows up again, right as he exits some robot’s decayed hut. Cicadas whine nearby.

“You’re so predictable,” Ghirahim grumbles. “And since I am incapable of teaching you a lesson, I am willing to ignore this bit of insolence.” 

Link’s fingers tighten on his hilt, his brows scrunched in anger. He doesn’t move. 

“What? You’ve come to kill me? Bravo!” Ghirahim steps closer, leaning down, flicking his tongue out just to unsettle him. “It’s a…itching thing, is it not? Being sharpened into such a fine tool for Her use, then being discarded like a broken instrument.”

Ghirahim steps around him, Lanaryu’s electricity prickling as he brushes past. Link whirls on him.

“Shut up!” 

“Oh, hit a nerve did I?” He starts towards the ladder. The air swishes and Ghirahim catches Link’s sword an inch from his uncut ear. 

“I don’t have time for your temper tantrums skychild.”

He crushes the blade, scattering the pieces at Link’s feet. 

“I am not a child,” Link snaps. 

Ghirahim regards him. 

“Calling you a child was too generous. This behavior bespokes an infant. Now go squall elsewhere!” 

Ghirahim drops down the ladder and dashes across the platforms. Link, of course, follows him. Ghirahim stomps across another platform.

“Are you set to chase me through this entire asinine gauntlet?!” 

Link grunts, his hook shot retracting back into his arm. 

“Yes,” he replies stonily.

Ghirahim is able to ignore Link’s irritating presence for only a mere five minutes before he explodes again.

“CEASE! Do you not have a life?! Quit smothering the excuse I have for mine! This is torture enough!

“There is no torture great enough for someone like you,” Link spits. “I will hunt you across all of Hyrule until I can kill you, like I should have five years ago.” 

Ghirahim raises his brow.

“With your flimsy blades?” 

He shoves Link off the platform. Apparently, he can make contact as long as there’s no killing intent. Link clawshots back onto the next one far too quickly. Eventually Ghirahim exhausts his vernacular and resolves to stalk along in silence. Link is silent too, trailing five paces behind. They make it back to the little robot on his silly little boat. 

“Here is your map tactless creature,” Ghirahim growls. “Your wife and child are dead in their own dust.”

The robot beeps and spits out the same phrases. Ghirahim rolls his eyes. He steps on, taking a deep, deep breath as Link does too. 

“I am sure you have responsibilities, boy,” Ghirahim grumbles. Link ignores him. Ghirahim tries to gut him again, rebuffed rudely. “Aren’t your colorful companions worrying for you?” 

Link’s mouth twitches. 

“Aha…they don’t know do they?” Ghirahim grins the way only a sword can. The tiny robot vrrbles a warning. Link jumps to his feet, confusion twisting his features. 

“Ugh. Of course—“

BANG! 

Ghirahim draws his rapier in time for a massive red octopus to break the surface. 

“—An octorock.” Ghirahim raps the robot’s head sharply with the butt of his hilt. “Get us out of range, you useless piece of circuitry!” 

Link opens his mouth—

CRUUUUUUNNCH!!

A huge tentacle slams down on the front of the boat, taking the wheel clean off. Ghirahim’s cheek spasms when a slap of water hits his side. Link fires a volley of arrows into the beast, jumping to the prow.

“What, may I ask, are you doing?!” Ghirahim blusters. 

“I’m not letting this overgrown…jelly take you out before I do,” he yells back. 

“Consider my cold metal heart warmed,” Ghirahim jeers. He crosses his arms and steps around errant splashes of water. Blubbery flesh bounces across the deck before misting away. The octorock sinks below the waves with a final gurgle, disappearing quickly into the dark blue gloom. They both stare at the missing wheel. 

“Where is that little thing?” Ghirahim roots around the rumble, unearthing the robot with a grimace. “Do you happen to have oars?” 

Link returns to glowering in the corner. Ghirahim rows the rest of the way to the Ghost Ship, firing it back into visibility. By the last cannon shot the ship begins to fall apart. They have ten feet of water between them and the ship’s ladder. Link makes to hop off the boat until he realizes Ghirahim hasn’t budged.

“The Demon Lord can swim , right?”

“I miss when you were mute,” Ghirahim snaps. 

“Well then,” Link begins, “this might be easier than I thought.”

He plants a boot on Ghirahim’s back and kicks him into the water. The demon lord barely has time to screech in anger before being muffled. Having a body made of metal has many advantages, though the mercy of floatation is not one of them. Ghirahim plunges like a stone into the depths. 

After several minutes he hits the bottom. He can breathe just fine due to Faron’s scale, but he doesn’t bother mustering up an ounce of gratitude for the blue worm. She could easily provide an entire race with her shed scales. 

The wall of water only extends so far before it turns to sand. Ghirahim stomps around on the seabed, causing the ground to quake. A golden glow slowly envelops him and in a blink he is on the ship’s deck. Ghirahim spits out salt water. Link turns from the railing, his expression quickly turning menacing. 

“They won’t let you die either?!”

Ghirahim starts to laugh. 

“Oh!! Oh this is quite the turn! What will the hero do now?” 

Link scowls at the floorboards. 

“I’ll have to speak with the dragons about this.” 

Yes Link?

Ghirahim rounds on the golden bubble that has been spitting him orders since the sand. 

“You are ever so helpful,” he growls. 

I address the chosen hero of the goddess, filth. 

“May I have the honor of executing him after his punishment is over?” Link asks politely. 

Of course. You may do with him as you see fit. 

“Seems I know what I’m going to do,” Link says smugly to Ghirahim. “I’m going to enjoy this show of yours then kill you the way you promised me.” He taps his head. “Hmmm…what was it? Deafening me with the sound of my own screams? Beating me within an inch of my life? Really such creative ideas.” 

Ghirahim grinds his teeth around but doesn’t dare retort. 

“And then there was that one about the “red string of fate” being drenched with my blood.” 

“I somehow doubt you have the stomach for any of those,” Ghirahim says. “You are a soft, sheltered boy. You were grown on the Goddess’s promised rock while she ignored the dirt.” 

“I know enough of this world,” Link replies coldly. 

“Do you truly?” Ghirahim questions. “Do you know its history? Do you know where Demise came from? Do you know what a Demon Lord is? Hmph. I thought not.”  

Link returns to the railing. 

“It doesn’t matter, I’m going to end you and that is all I need to know.” 

“Where did such a callous attitude come from, I wonder?” Ghirahim muses. “Ah, me.” 

Link sneers.

“Shut up or I’ll stab you again.” 

Ghirahin flips his hair, rolling his eyes up to the time stone mechanism behind bars. It’s the same mind numbing tasks as usual, solving inane puzzles all to be rewarded with some form of battle, then a paltry gift. Ghirahim receives no benefit from the temple’s completion— simply orders to move on to the next. 

Link follows him around the entire time, occasionally taking a swig from what appears to be soup in a bottle. Ghirahim does the puzzles in silence until the last. 

“These are so rudimentary I feel as if I’m losing consciousness,” he complains. 

“Yeah. It gets pretty insulting sometimes,” Link replies. 

“Silence boy. I don’t need your input!” 

Link slurps loudly on his soup. 

Ghirahim cuts down a beamos, swiftly thrusting his sword through the eye. Electric sparks flash until it explodes into purple smoke. Ghirahim sighs. 

“Where did Demise come from?” Link asks a few minutes later. 

“He is not dead,” Ghirahim spits. “He is merely sealed.” 

Link waits.

“The goddess is said to be a manifestation of all that is light in this world, rather presumptuous of her,” Ghirahim begins. “So naturally, one casts a terrible shadow.” 

“Thus they are born in opposition. My master is all that is dark, and She must keep him out of her corners. They battled in solitude for a great many lifetimes, before they each created inferior beings to rule and send to battle in their stead.”

Ghirahim kicks aside a technoblin before continuing. 

“The Goddess made the dragons, the Triforce, your people. My master created the demons and the monsters. We tore up this surface for hundreds of years…I led much of that force.”

Ghirahim smiles at the memory. 

“All was chaos. All was fire. My master nearly won…”

“I think I know the rest,” Link interrupts. 

“Do you? Did her majesty water over that history and lead you to believe your people are as innocent as lambs? I’m certain she did. If not, you’d know I’m the last of my kind.” 

Link frowns.

“What?” 

Ghirahim rubs his ear subconsciously. 

“Her majesty led a great extermination on my race. Demons are born to dark natures, it is said, but not all of us are so inclined…those are the weaklings.” Ghirahim rolls his eyes. 

Link shakes his head slightly. 

“That can’t be true.” 

“It is boy. The dark and the light are not as separate as She would like you to believe. Think me a liar if it eases your fragile conscience.” 

“As for how I am Demise’s sword…I rose to the occasion with a great many victories and he chose me over thousands of others. I was the strongest of my ilk. Demon Lord is not an empty title, boy.” Ghirahim scoffs. “That should wrap up our little history lesson.”

He turns the last puzzle, opening a large chest that holds an octopus carving. 

Link thinks about Batreaux, sure fire proof the demons Ghirahim scorns existed. Once. 

“I don’t believe you.” 

“Do you think an innocent girl could ever oppose my master? No. She is just as cruel and calculating as Demise, perhaps even more so. She puppets your people rather exquisitely I must admit.” 

Ghirahim turns the carving in his palm, shoving it in the door. 

Link is stopped from entering. Eventually he returns home, avoiding the rickety scaffold of Batreax’s hut. 

Hours after he’s rinsed as much grime as he can, Link sits on his bed, rubbing the back of his hand over and over. Zelda comes knocking eventually. He lets her in.

“Did you find him? You’ve been gone for three days, I was getting…we were getting worried. I can’t keep making excuses forever.” 

“I did.”

“And?”

“I can’t kill him until his punishment is over.” 

Zelda pauses.

“What?”

“The dragons have him doing my quest, from start to finish as torment. Once it’s over, I'm going to execute him.” Link rubs his brow. 

“Oh. How like Faron,” Zelda says with amusement. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

“No. He can’t hurt me, they’ve put some sort of…barrier around me. You too most likely. Though he tried his best.” 

Zelda laughs.

“Oh I wish I could’ve seen it!” 

“It was pretty funny,” Link admits. “Seeing him reduced to an errand boy.” 

He shifts in his seat. “Zelda, can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, anything.”

Link shuffles around. 

“Were there ever more demons? Besides Batreaux and Ghirahim.” 

Zelda purses her lips.

“They’re only monsters higher in power.”

“Ghirahim told me that there used to be a race of demons under Demise’s command.” 

“Link, you shouldn’t be engaging with him! All his words are lies meant to turn people on each other!” 

“Explain Batreaux.” 

Zelda shakes her head. 

“I don’t want you going out to antagonize him for the sport of it. We’ll wait for the dragons to deliver the word, then you deliver the final blow.”

“ Zelda .” 

She clenches her jaw.

“Yes, there once was a race of demons. Most of them were evil and only caused ruin.”

“But there were some like Batreaux, weren’t there?” Link adds. “And your former self eradicated all of them.”’

“They killed most of us. They didn’t care who was good or bad! You don’t understand war, Link!” 

“No,” Link says. “But I would have thought as the force of light, we could do better.” 

Zelda groans in frustration.

“You cannot be sympathetic towards him. Remember what he did to me? To us?”

“I didn’t forget,” Link snaps. “I hate him as much as you do. But he has no reason to lie anymore, and you have plenty! What else are you keeping from us? From history?”

Zelda shakes her head again. 

“I’m going. I can’t deal with this right now.”

She stomps out the door. 

Link doesn’t move.

~

Eldin 

Ghirahim examines a stone painted with ancient silhouettes, depicting a hunt for an animal that has faded away. It’s almost peaceful but for the oppressive heat and dry air. Ghirahim frowns at the figures, before blowing off what little pigment remains. He’s in no particular hurry, dawdling as long as his barriers allow, leaving trails of corpses where he goes. The air becomes darker eventually. Ghirahim watches cinder flecks drift by his nose. All the monsters huddle away in their caves at the turn of the hour, leaving the broiling wasteland eerily quiet. 

“Hm…” Ghirahim turns slowly. There was something about this area hundreds of years ago, something to do with the descent of night. 

“YO!” an impudent voice calls. Ghirahim wrinkles his nose and turns. The mogmas remain entirely unchanged since the earliest days, though their manner of Hylian speech is a crude addition. 

“What is it you abhorrent thing?” Ghirahim snaps. 

“Better run into a cave!”

The mogma swiftly dives back into the soil. Faint vibrations jitter under his soles. The smell of burning dirt rises to his nose and Ghirahim spins around to face a molten lump of arms pedaling towards him.

“Oh. That.”

He sprints into the nearest cave, stumbling into a horde of more mogmas. They’re playing some sort of game. 

“Heyyyy! It’s that creepy white guy Link was mentionin’!” 

“What did you just refer to me as?” Ghirahim sniffs. He draws his rapier and swings it over their heads. “Give me distance! You stand in the presence of Demon Lord Ghirahim!” 

“Yooo….” one of the lighter colored ones mutters. “What’s that?”

“Pah!” 

Ghirahim stomps into an empty cavern only to get blasted by a stream of fire. He rips his half melted boots off with much fuming. Back into the mogma pit.

“We forgot to tell ‘ya that’s our pyrup farm,” the same mogma adds. 

“Did you now?!’ Ghirahim points his sword at him. “How long does that…thing…rumble around? Quickly!” 

The mogmas scratch their thick hides and skulls for a good while before a small, fatter white one hops from the mass. 

“Usually until the sun comes up, we’ve noticed.”

“You’ve…noticed?! Have your lot not dwelled here since the primordial days?! You’ve noticed! This world is becoming simpler by the hour!” 

Ghirahim whirls around before he guts one of them. A distinct instinct tells him the dragons would not allow that anyway. 

“So….Link said you’re a scout.” the white fat one goes on. 

“Link said this when, precisely?”

The creature shrugs. 

“Find any treasure?”

Every last one of them rounds on him with shiny beady eyes, whacking his limbs with their heavy claws.

“Yeah! Tell us!”

“We’re lookin’ to bargain—”

“I HAVE NOT. Found any…treasure,” Ghirahim grits. 

“Then what are you even doing?” 

“I ask myself that question very often these days,” he mutters. 

The mogmas then insist on dragging him into their stupid catch-and-pass game, which he refuses to join. Once they figure out they can bounce objects off his head Ghirahim loses his temper and throws one across the cavern. To his dismay, the mogma is unhurt and they form a line.

“Faron…if there is any time to drop me into one of your little quests…” Ghirahim hisses. Nothing happens of course. Mogma skulls are, unfortunately, quite uncrackable. When dawn streams gritty and yellow through the cave mouth Ghirahim almost thanks Hylia. 

~

Skyloft

The insects are buzzing and the people are bustling, it’s a cooler morning and pleasant as a morning can be. Link sits on a bench near the plaza and nearly hides when he spots Groose striding towards him. He approaches much too quickly. 

“So uh…is something going on between you and Zelda?” Groose asks outright. “I mean, I know you guys aren't as close anymore but uh…”

Link itches to sink a sword into something. 

“Seems really bad right now,” Groose adds after a beat. 

“We…we had a disagreement,” Link replies carefully. 

“I don’t get it. You guys seemed to be getting along better a few days ago and now it’s back to this. Link, I thought you both had moved on?” Groose swings his arms back and forth, pacing around him. 

Link sighs.

“I really want to go back to how things were, believe me.”

Groose ambles around to his side and pats his shoulder.

“So what’s the deal?”

Link gazes out into the evening sky.

“She changed her mind about my surface visits. Banned me altogether.”

“Oh.”

Groose itches the back of his neck. 

“I mean, Zelda is pretty smart so maybe she’s right?” 

Link fixes him with a look that stops Groose in his tracks. 

“Of course. Zelda is always right,” he says emotionlessly. 

Groose laughs nervously and pats his shoulder.

“I’m glad you get it! Arguing with her is impossible, man…”

Link sighs and gently shoves his hand off. Groose takes the hint and backs away, mumbling about meeting Zelda for breakfast in the Bazaar. Link chews on his thumbnail, a nasty habit that has since crept back with a vengeance. He’s barely slept, less than usual, and all around concerned Fledges, Gaeporas, and Pipits swarm. Eagus won’t let him near the training hall. He’d almost prefer taking another one of Ghirahim’s daggers to the arm. 

“Your problem, Link, is that you miss being busy and aggressive. You miss having a purpose. That is your problem. So you need a new purpose, and we’re happy to suggest…”

Nothing had stuck. He could master a skill, certainly, but it never took. He could paint, carve, build, cook, write, nothing gave him the same sense of surety. Bernie helpfully suggests that he try a “pick-me-up” potion. 

“No thank you,” Link sighs. “I need a real drink.”

The flight to The Lumpy Pumpkin is a blink and he’s swigging pumpkin liquor with an abandon that unnerves the patrons next to him.

“You seem a little young to be drinking like that…” 

Link sets his glass down.

“See you later Pum.” 

He jumps on his loftwing and spirals down to Faron. His flight is interrupted by five brown and black loftwings astride with academy graduates.

“Where do you think you’re going?!”

Link urges his bird into a sharp nose dive and they whistle through the air, too fast for the knights to catch up. One of them blasts a horn but Link’s ears are already swallowed by the wind. 

~

Eldin

Ghirahim stares at a round, yellow creature wandering about vacantly. It takes a minute for the creature to notice him.

“Whoa! Link? Oh no you’re not Link. Who are you?” It scratches it’s chin.  

“You are a goron,” Ghirahim says. “Tell me, goron, do you recall when our tribes once worked together?” 

“Huh? Uh…there aren’t a whole lot of us around anymore.” 

Ghirahim rolls his eyes.

“Your species lives long but your minds are so short. No matter. Goron, you will assist me.”

The goron scratches it’s head.

“Uh sure. What's your name again?” 

“Ghirahim. Demon Lord Ghirahim.”

The Goron’s rocky brows raise.

“A lord?! Whoa! Let me take you to our settlement, goro! What an honor!” 

The goron hurries down the back of the volcano. They walk through magma ridden tunnels and scuttle across narrow stone bridges. 

“And here we are!” The goron puffs proudly. 

The goron settlement is nowhere near as large as it once was. Little more than huts made of stone slabs circling a massive spire of rock in the center. The goron’s name is Gorko. 

“Your kind is wholly uncreative,” Ghirahim replies. 

Gorko grins obliviously.

“You’re too kind Lord…here, you gotta meet the chiefs.” 

He’s led over to a copse of four huts with roughly painted roofs. Ghirahim turns his gaze down to the withered yellow form below him, streaked in fading white war paint.

“Gor Cobal,” Ghirahim sniffs. “You have shrunk.” 

Gor Cobal stiffly moves towards him. 

“You have brought a great evil into our home Gorko…” he rasps. “An evil we once consorted with.” 

Gorko frowns.

“Huh?”

Gor Cobal sighs. “The young ones are taught nothing. Leave us, Gorko.”

He lumbers away.

“Come inside Ghirahim, let us discuss the past…there are so few that remember it…”

Ghirahim stoops to fit under the door, seating himself at a small rudimentary table with a pile of pebbles in a bowl as decoration. Gor Cobal pushes himself along with his cane and shakily climbs into his seat. 

“So your side of things went poorly I imagine,” the goron warbles. 

“Extremely,” Ghirahim spits. “A mere child of man ruined it all. Begot by the cowardly sky-folk.” 

“Hah. Now that is interesting.” Gor Cobal shoves a handful of pebbles into his mouth. “Chosen by Her?”

“Of course,” Ghirahim says. 

“Our days of negotiation are over, Demon Lord. We goron now aim to bathe in the light.” Gor Cobal crunches down his pebbles noisily. 

“The winning side always tastes sweeter, withered creature, but do not forget what the Hylians once thought of your kind.” 

Gor Cobal sighs.

“Those Hylians are gone now. Their descendants I hear are much gentler, peaceable folk. I hope we can have friendly relations with this generation.”

Ghirahim’s lip twitches. 

“Their blood thirst remains, I assure you. Simply wait a few decades. Soon, they will encroach on all land, all sky, asking for more and taking what they cannot get.” 

Gor Cobal huffs.

“Your tribe was much the same, Demon Lord. I do not see why you worry about competition, seeing as there are no demons beside yourself left.” 

“My tribe’s darkness lives on within their hearts.” 

“Darkness dwells within us all, Ghirahim,” Gor Cobal says, wheezing. He hobbles to a stand. Ghirahim offers him an arm. Gor Cobal places a claw upon it and they steadily walk outside. 

“It is good to meet with an old friend,” Ghirahim says. “Though you are nearly a rock at this age.” 

“Gah. We were never friends, even when I was young. It was merely mutual gain.” 

Ghirahim scoffs.

“Recall the battles we led?”

“Ah…yes, during the bloodiest years…”

Ghirahim chuckles as they walk around the shambling settlement, stories flooding between them. Evening falls and the magma casts all in a soft red glow. 

Gor Cobal stops in front of the spire.

“Demon Lord. What has happened to you? You are…not as volatile as you once were. The fire is gone from your veins.” 

“I have been doused most rudely indeed,” Ghirahim says blithely. “My teeth are clipped as your kind might say. Those wretched dragons imprison me.”

Gor Cobal laughs. 

“Perhaps you deserve it!” He guffaws so loudly all the gorons around turn. “Perhaps you can change, Demon Lord. Look at us.”

“Reduced, saddened, and forgetting? Ah, what an inviting idea,” Ghirahim snaps. “We have slaughtered. We have bathed in blood and we have reveled in it. This land has not forgotten, and neither should you.”

Ghirahim wrenches his arm away and stalks out of the settlement. 

~

Skyview Temple

Link slowly creeps around, searching the temple for a sword better than the flimsy ones provided by the academy. He’s weapon-less and on a time limit. If what Ghirahim says is true, then this temple may have once been a stronghold filled with weapons and armor, for what other purpose could it have served? 

Link avoids a keese swooping over his head with a grimace. Spider webbing clings to his arms no matter what he does. It’s rotted significantly inside since he last visited, plants so thick no path can be seen at all. All the wooden crates are long dust, the smooth stone laced with cracks, blue mold powdering the white. 

Link inhales and exhales slowly. 

“Where is it…”

At last he finds a chamber door he’s never been inside, hidden by a screen of vines. Behind lays a fallen soldier. His helmet has rolled off, plants sprouting through it’s eyeholes. Link gazes at the mummified husk still clutching it’s sword. 

“Took your sword to the end, huh?” 

Link stands in silent vigil over the body for a moment. He crouches to carefully pry it’s fingers off the hilt, withdrawing a blade made from a metal he doesn’t recognize. It’s almost black, but with a faint enough sheen to read as metal. The hilt itself is faded red and gold. 

“Thank you,” Link says to the soldier. He carefully replaces the vines so the body may rest undisturbed.

~

The Fire Temple

Ghirahim flings a bloated seed onto a frog mechanism’s tongue, flinching when its jaw abruptly snaps shut. That amusing mechanism had been an idea of his own conception. Thousands of years ago, The Demon Tribe dwelled in this very temple alongside the Gorons, mingling and mixing their blood. The Hylians eventually led an invasion on their stronghold and prevailed, using their technology to drain all sources of water.  

Ghirahim rubs his jaw. Eating and drinking are things he no longer requires, but sometimes the itch is there. 

“They removed my best mosaic!” 

Ghirahim picks away a few tiles with his sword but soon gives up. The entire temple is filled with memories and monsters. Ghirahim walks into a chamber that locks behind him with an echoing clang!

“Bwawahwah!” A black lizalfos taunts, flicking its tongue out under a rocky gauntlet. Ghirahim smashes his foot into it’s arm. The rock breaks and the lizaflos smashes it’s skull on the ground. The second one skips about more warily.

“Come now, I have quite the appetite for bloodshed…”

Ghirahim eviscerates the second within moments, grinning with delight. He draws his blade to his mouth and licks the blood off.

“Ah.”

He watches the bodies disappear into mist to be reborn again. A never ending cycle, springing up like weeds over and over. Cycles and eternity. Ghirahim leaps down to an invisible platform and acquires the key. 

He enters the chamber. It had once served as his bedchambers, though all the furniture is rotted and ash now. The mosaic so helpfully installed by the late Hylians taunts him. 

“Well…who am I to fight? Myself again?”

Ghirahim breaks a pot just to hear the noise. 

“No,” a young voice replies, a shadow jumping down from a ledge behind. Link straightens and draws an old Hylian blade. Ghirahim curls his lip at it.

“You went digging through relics I see.” 

Link hefts his shield in reply. 

“Boy, that blade is hundreds of years old. It will shatter on my supple arms within moments and then you shall be most humiliated.” 

Ghirahim licks his teeth.

“I do love the taste.”

Link advances. His face is drawn in that painful expression of determination that has haunted him since. Ghirahim draws his rapier. They exchange a few blows, brief clashes of metal, Link darting around him. 

“Your form has gotten better, but you’ll have to improve it more if you want to stand a chance!” Ghirahim lands a kick to his side and Link cries out, staggering but not falling. He grinds his teeth and straightens. 

“You must enjoy getting beaten,” Ghirahim spits. Link is faster now, spurred on by the pain, and their fight takes them all the way around the chamber. Ghirahim slams into the wall, smashing the sandstone. He grunts at the dust gusting up. 

Link backs away several paces.

“What? Is your namesake cowardice finally—“

The dust clears. 

It’s a finely detailed mosaic, Ghirahim remembers the day it was finished, how proud he had been. He stares at it. His back is undefended, but Link can’t bring himself to make the blow. 

“More relics,” Ghirahim says. “Don’t tell me you have lost your taste for violence.” He dusts off his tunic. Link’s gaze flicks between him and the mosaic. 

“You— you had children?!” 

“Why is that such a shocking concept?” Ghirahim snarls. Link hesitates.

“What…what were their names?”

“I don’t remember,” Ghirahim growls. “Fight!”

Link slowly lifts his sword. All the fire is gone from his body, and his moves are slow and tired. The pain in his side is wearing him down, Ghirahim can see it, but it no longer gives him any satisfaction. He knocks Link’s sword from him. 

“I suppose you will have to try again boy.” 

“Who was he?”

Link nods at the red figure beside Ghirahim in the picture. Ghirahim slams his sword into the wall above his head.

“Not. Another. Word.” 

Link swallows. 

“They are gone. They were good, see what that brought them,” Ghirahim hisses. “Weak. Weak and worthless.” 

“Another lesson for you boy. Her Majesty guided a force of Hylians to my bedchambers, and they assassinated my family as I slept. They could not kill me. I earned my title, and the paltry treaty between our tribes shattered.”

“Peace is a foolish thing.”

Ghirahim turns to stare at the mosaic once last time before he destroys it, smashing it to powder. “Lick your wounds out of my sight,” Ghirahim says over his shoulder. 

 Link grunts as he shoves himself up the wall for support, limping out the door. Ghirahim picks up a tile that remains untouched, one dark black eye. He holds it out in his palm before crushing it too. 

Ghirahim rubs his ear. Yes, this was the day their inferior blades marked him permanently. He had vowed to never let a sword touch him again. Demise saw Ghirahim’s promise and made an offer so that his skin would rebuff the strongest of swords, his mortality would be removed, his body a vessel of destruction. 

“Goodbye little ones,” Ghirahim whispers to the dust.

 “I’ll never forget.” 

~

The Old Temple

Link sits under the ray of sunlight bathing Fi’s dormant form, soaking in the heat. Zelda’s familiar footfalls echo behind him. 

“Yes?”

“I told you not to wait for…him.” 

Zelda climbs up the stairs and sits down.

Link avoids her gaze. 

“Link, I…I just want to say something before you decide to hate me forever.” 

“Say it,” Link replies.

Zelda tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I didn’t choose this. I didn’t choose to gain Hylia’s memories or power, I didn't choose to become a vessel. So you must forgive me if I have trouble sorting out her feelings from mine, her memories from mine.”

Zelda pauses.

“So many horrible things happened in that war. The wars before even that. I can’t make sense of it, I just know it…happened.” 

Zelda wipes at her eyes.

“I wanted it to be simple so I blocked those things out.”

Link’s face softens.

“I…I know,” he says quietly. 

“I can’t tell you everything. And I can’t tell our people everything. Because this, this violence and torment has to die with me,” Zelda says. “If they knew their hate would become stronger and any hope of starting anew would be gone.” 

Link finally meets her eyes.

“I’m so sorry Link,” she whispers. 

“I’m sorry too, for everything. Can we…can we start anew?”

Zelda nods, her eyes shining.

“Yes, of course, we c—“

“Afraid to interrupt this touching moment,” Ghirahim announces. 

Zelda jumps back and draws her academy blade. Link draws his own. 

“Stupid sky children. My fight is not with you.”

Ghirahim turns towards the double doors leading to The Sealing Grounds. The ground begins to quake. Ghirahim stomps outside. Zelda exhales loudly. 

“He is acting very unusually from what I remember as Hylia…” she mutters. Sweat drips down her brow. 

“That might have something to do with the fact he rediscovered some relics of his at The Fire Temple,” Link mentions. “Did you know he had a family?”

Zelda chews her lip.

“Yes…but only as a passing bit of thought. I don’t know much more than that.” 

“Ah,” Link mutters. “The past is the past. We should leave it there.” 

He holds out a hand.

 Zelda takes it, and they walk down the stairs together.