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“Should we tell him?”

A moment of silence stretched on as the elder of the Wind Tribe contemplated.

Finally, coming to a decision, Siroc shook her head, “We need not frighten the poor boy with the knowledge.”

They would continue to keep the creature chained. A necessary evil, lest the creature tear apart the island it once loved, terrorizing the inhabitants while it was at it. But one day it would be locked away in a sturdy marble dungeon, giving more freedom than it has had in centuries.

It had been centuries now.

Generations.

Each new elder being instructed to keep the creature chained, keep it in line.

And one day, Siroc knew, the creature would finally be put out of its misery.

But it wouldn’t be today, it wouldn’t be any time soon.

Not with the child Hero of Men they currently had.

No, Siroc wouldn’t burden the child with this. She wasn’t going make the child bloody his hands with the blood of what had once been an innocent human being.

(Then, one day, the creature would break free of its prison. The ground of the island starting to crumble under the stress the creature put on it. The inhabitants of the island, members of the Wind Tribe, attempting to flee, few making it out alive.)

X

“The ruins of Skyloft.” One archaeologist said to his partner, looking around in amazement. The Island in the Sky reduced to crumbling ground few stone buildings, and one large marble dungeon underneath everything else. “I can’t believe we actually made it!”

“Com’n!” his partner exclaimed, as she carefully headed toward one of the stone buildings. He wasn’t sure what she could have seen that would be more interesting than a marble dungeon, but nonetheless, he followed her.

As they drew closer, the sign outside the building caught his attention, ‘The Knight Academy.’

His partner didn’t even hesitate, immediately using all of her weight to force the door open. Dust blinded them, leaving their eyes watering as they coughed and waved their hands in an attempt to clear it.

When he hesitated to step farther into the building, his partner huffed a laugh.

“Come on!” she goaded, “Don’t be such a cucco!”

“I am not a cucco!” he exclaimed, indignation filling his voice as he stepped into the creaky and rundown building.

It was obvious the building hadn’t been used in at least many centuries, not a surprise as the island didn’t even see to be inhabited in several millennia.

Despite his unease, he went with his partner and they searched many rooms, all marked with signs. Headmaster Gaepora’s, Instructor Horwell, Groose, Pipit, Cawlin, amongst many more.

No, this building hadn’t been used since the time of the first king and queen.

Then, they came to the last room they would search. Link and Zelda.

The partners shared a look.

They should have known better than to enter, after all, while this was, once upon a time, Queen Zelda’s, Hylia’s mortal incarnation’s, room, it was also the first king’s, and while he may have been Hylia’s Chosen Hero, he had also been convicted of heinous crimes later in life.

The archeologists shared a look and a shrug, and, unable to help their curiosity, entered the room.

“Oh my-“ his partner laughed after a few minutes. “Look!” she continued, he turned at the sound of her voice, to see her holding up a small stuffed doll of a man (child?) wearing a green fairy costume.

“You,” He started, turning back to one of the many hand bound, weathered journals he had found and had been reading (Or, well, trying to read, they were in ancient Hylian, after all. And that was more his partners specialty). “-find amusement in the smallest things.”

“I just didn’t know they even had stuff like this back then.” She huffed, carefully placing the doll into the bag she always insisted on bringing with her.

“Apparently they did.” He teased, she poked her tongue out at him, “Hey, can you translate this?” he asked, practically shoving the book at her.

She fumbled to get a grip on the book. “Careful!” she snapped, holding the book close to herself, “These things are at least three millennia old! They’re fragile!”

“Can you translate it or not?” He asked, wondering if they should even bother. If looks could kill, he would have dropped dead then and there, from the glare she sent him. He watched as she gently opened the book, eyes rapidly trailing from one side of the page to the other.

“What?” he blurted when she rapidly paled, “What is it?”

“How many of these are there?” she demanded, gaze flying up to meet his.

“Uh-?” he stuttered, “I’d say maybe around a dozen, maybe more?”

“Grab them.” She told him firmly, putting the journal in her bag with even more care than usual.

“Why? What is it?” He asked, even as he followed her direction.

“Dream journals.” She told him, “And this one?” she pointed at the book in her bag, “This one’s about the Civil War!”

“Civil war? The Hyrulean Civil War?” He asked in confirmation, and she nodded.

“This book, from three millennia ago, details a war that just ended five years ago!” She told him, voice getting shriller and shriller the more she spoke.

He understood what she was saying, and immediately got to rounding the journals up, putting them in the bag. They weren’t just dream journals, they were prophetic dream journals. Who knew what information they could hold.

“Ho- Holy fuck!” he heard his partner breathe.

“I know!” He exclaimed, as he finished putting them in the bag, “I can’t believe we got that lu-!”

“Not that.” She interrupted him, picking up the bag from the floor and grabbing his arm, pulling him toward the door. “Run.”

He glanced around the room as they fled, trying to see what had spooked her so. Only to make eye contact with a large, seemingly furious, and armored wyvern.

“Holy shit!” He screamed shrilly, taking off running, now pulling her with him, instead of the other way around.

They only just made it out alive, by running to the edge and jumping off the island in the sky to the soundtrack of, flapping wings, a furious roar, and the destruction of the Knight’s Academy, and they whipped their paragliders out as they descended toward the surface.

Paragliders, he thought, an experimental thing, but man was he sure glad they had had them.

X

“Link, you did it!” Midna exclaimed, “It’s the fou-”

Link, the Hero of Twilight, tuned her out. He knew he shouldn’t have, she was probably saying something he needed to know, but- He glanced back at the wyvern he had just defeated, something didn’t feel right about killing the creature.

It had near completely destroyed the island, had terrorized the Ooccoo and who knew what else, had nearly killed Link, would have, in fact, had he not had those fairies, but somehow, as it had taken its last breath, Link felt had as though he may as well have just killed an old friend.

“-ou out of here.” Midna was saying, “You’re sure there’s nothing else you need to do, right?”

Link shook his head, “No, nothing else that needs to be done here.”

“Great! Now let’s get out of here!” Midna said, as Link transformed into his wolf self so that they could warp.

Had they stayed just a moment more, they would have seen the golden light as it started to shine on the wyvern.

Its body contorting and shrinking unnaturally, the snapping and popping of its bones shifting ringing throughout out the dungeon. Not a single sound came from its throat, however, as it did not breathe anymore. It hadn’t, not truly, in years.

Soon, instead of the wyvern, a young man of around twenty-five years of age was slumped on the floor, on his front in similar position the wyvern had been. Dressed in typical hero’s garb, chainmail with a green tunic, and a green hat covering his dirty blonde hair, manacles around his wrists, pulling his hands close together. Eyes that, had they been open and seeing, would have been a clear, intelligent and compassionate, sky blue. Sailcloth wrapped around his shoulders, normally pure white in color with light blue detailing, rapidly staining red.

X

“Ah, Link!” a cursed voice mocked. “How long has it been now? Three, four years?”

“You- You shouldn’t be here.” Link muttered from his spot on the floor. “How? How are you here?”

He had killed it, hadn’t he? So how-?

“Oh, Link.” The voice cooed, “I have mastered time itself. Did you really think death could keep me from finding you?”

Link looked down at his hands, clasped in his lap. Don’t interact with the voices in your head, then surely, they couldn’t mock you, right?

“Just a voice in your head, eh?” the voice asked, gleefully, the painfully familiar voice, “Look how far you’ve fallen! First, your precious, precious sword is broken, which it has been repaired, if you’re wondering. Not that the spirit within will ever be the same again. Hurts, doesn’t it?” The voice then asked, when Link let out a cry, hand slapping over his ears. “Then, you’re imprisoned for crimes you claim not to have committed.”

Link whimpered, rocking forwards over his knees, then backward, his back hitting the wall behind him. Over and over again.

The voice should be dead, he had killed it himself! So why was he hearing it?

“The Hero of the Skies! Hylia’s Chosen Hero! The king of Hyrule! Imprisoned for murder. Framed, he claims!”

Link felt something curl, shift, in his chest, feeling a pain he had never felt before in his life.

The voice chuckled, and asked, as if he didn’t already know, “Oh? What’s this?”

And Link screamed.

Wordlessly, he screamed.

The guard, standing in front of his cell, jolted, whirling around to look at the hero. The guard scrambled back, eyes wide with horror at the scene in front of him.

Maybe, Link thought before everything went blank, maybe the voice was actually there, and not just in his head.

“Maybe, my dear, dear Link, maybe, your little sword spirit was onto something when it called me the source of all monsters?” The voice, Demise, mocked, watching the creation of a masterpiece.

After all, weren’t the worst monsters the ones that attacked what they had once loved?