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After returning to the house and planning things out, the parents settled in bed with Link safely tucked between them. Neither Tilieth nor Abel slept well, both filled with anticipation and neither getting much rest in the daylight. When the sun was high in the sky, the couple finally gave up and decided it was best to make their next move.

It was the warmest part of the day, and the snow shrine was the most accessible despite the climate. They would start there.

"You remember Festival of Farore?" Tilieth asked quietly as they passed under the stone archway that divided the snowbound mountain from the rest of the plateau.

Abel glanced at her, distracted, and nodded. Til had to smile at that. Her husband was very serious when set to a task. It was where Link had gotten it from. But she herself found her mind wandering back to that day many, many years ago when the family had made a pilgrimage to the Temple of Time for the Festival of Farore. Link was only eight years old, and Lyra had just been born. The ceremony was traditionally led by the descendant of Hylia, and that had been the first year Princess Zelda had made a public appearance since her mother's funeral.

Tilieth remembered being struck by just how young the princess was. She couldn't have been any older than Link, yet she was leading a ceremony that attracted the entire nation.

Glancing off into the distance, Til's eyes found the castle's silhouette cutting into the horizon.

"Til, we need to keep moving."

At her husband's urging, Tilieth resumed her pace. Once they reached the River of the Dead, they paused, laying Link on the ground. Tilieth guarded him in the small dilapidated house at the mouth of the river while Abel went ahead to carve a path through the ice chus that would no doubt be prowling. They were easy enough to pick off and continued to return no matter how many times Abel had eliminated them, so the couple had given up on this area a few years ago.

"Who do you think used to live here, Link?" Til asked her son, holding him to her chest so he could stay warm. "I never quite figured out why there was a house here to begin with. Had to be something with tradition behind it. River of the Dead, a guard stationed here... and it's so close to the temple, too."

She heard her husband's footsteps soon enough, and they were on their way once more. They were making their way to the far end of the river, just before the waterfall, because they both distinctly remembered what was left there from the fight against the guardians.

Pulling out the slate, Til used it to create a new bridge from the wreckage of the old metal doors in the area, and the couple crossed the freezing river quickly. From there it was a simple, if steep, climb to the shrine. A touch from both the slate and Link's cold fingers activated the entrance, and Til glanced at the floor outside the shrine.

"We still haven't figured out what a 'travel gate' is," she noted.

"A point on the map," Abel answered. "At least that's how it appears."

"Yes, but it's blue now," Til replied thoughtfully.

"Either way, we can get inside now."

Once inside, they were greeted with a different voice who spoke the same words as the other monk, meriting a degree of confusion from the pair.

"Do... are there monks in every shrine?" Abel wondered aloud.

"And do they share tips on what to say?" Til added with a laugh. "But there must be monks, I suppose. The shrine wouldn't just be empty."

Abel shrugged. "There's another pedestal over there. Let's go."

More runes? Til placed the slate and watched the information distill into it. This rune was called cryonis. Between the word and the water, she could figure out the rest fairly easily.

"An ice pillar!" she said with awe as the water shaped itself into a frozen platform.

The puzzles were fairly simple and easily solvable, but another miniature guardian awaited them around a gate. Til grabbed Link hastily as Abel rushed ahead, eyes ablaze with fury as he cut it into pieces.

"Why would those monsters be in these sacred shrines?" she asked, her voice trembling. "How did they get in here?"

Abel sighed, sheathing his sword. "They were probably designed to be here."

Til almost asked how that could be the case when she abruptly remembered the monsters had originally been designed for them rather than against them. It had been so long and so ingrained into her mind that she'd forgotten.

Goddess.

Shaking her head, she let Abel carry Link as they marched ahead. This time when they reached the enshrined monk, Abel pulled Link into his arms and propped him on the little fence just in front of the sealed area, guiding his hand to touch the crying Sheikah eye.

The scene played out much as it had in the previous shrine, and Til and Abel both nodded in gratitude as the spirit orb floated to their son. As the monk dissipated, Tilieth asked, "Wait, don't we get--"

That was about as much as she could say before she felt the world around her get torn away, and next thing she knew it was freezing and dark and Hyrule's expanse was just in front of her, the sunlight vanishing behind Death Mountain.

Abel shuddered, Link held tightly in his arms. "Can they just let us leave normally?"

Tilieth shivered. "We should get back to the house, he'll freeze here."

"We're close to the cliff side shrine," Abel protested. "Let's get him there. Then the last one will be..."

Both parents paled. The forbidden shrine. The one surrounded by guardians, three of which were still active.

Link sniffled.

Jumping, Til and Abel immediately turned their attention to their son. He hadn't moved a muscle since he'd gotten out of the shrine, slowly dying.

"Goddess above, it's working," Til sobbed, burying her face in her boy's hair.

"We need to keep moving," Abel insisted, kissing her and then Link. "Come on. He needs to eat and drink, and he can't do that like this. The sooner we get more spirit orbs the more likely he'll survive this."

Tilieth nodded, rising. "Let's go."

Reaching the next shrine was a bit more complicated since it was literally on the side of the mountain, but with Link held tightly in his arms, Abel slid down the rocks with some degree of control. Til hesitantly followed, gritting her teeth as she tried to find perches for her hands and feet.

The real dilemma was once they entered the shrine.

Staring at the rotating bridge, and at gigantic rocks rushing down the only pathway to the monk farther along, the couple exchanged an uneasy glance.

"Maybe the next rune is a giant shield or something?" Til offered worriedly.

It turned out, actually, that the next rune stopped time. For a single object. For a few seconds.

"What sort of magic insanity is this technology, anyway?" Abel asked as Tilieth froze the cog turning the bridge, allowing for the two to dart across. "How do you stop time?"

"It doesn't really?" Til tried to reason out, just as unsettled. "It just freezes something."

Reading the description of the rune, she clarified. "Oh. And stores energy."

"What?"

"I don't know!" Til finally threw up her hands. "I need time to figure this out, Abe!"

When they were left with a block and a sledgehammer and no other way around it, the picture grew a little clearer.

"We hit it while it can't move and it holds onto those blows," Tilieth surmised. "That must be what it means!"

"The trial is to beat a rock with a sledgehammer," Abel deadpanned.

"Well just try it!"

Sighing, her husband rested Link against the wall, where she quickly knelt beside the teenager to hold him steady. Grabbing the sledgehammer and the slate, he clumsily activated the rune and smacked the stone a few times.

Til peeked at the display on the slate. "Uh, honey, maybe you should back away now."

"It's not like it's going to go very far," Abel commented. "And I want to see what--"

The rock fired out of its place, smacking into the monk's resting place, bouncing off the ceiling, and nearly colliding with the family as they yelped and hit the ground to duck.

Gasping, the two looked at the great abyss below where the rock had fallen, and Til felt a chill go down her spine when she never heard it land.

"I stand corrected," Abel amended shakily. Then he smiled and laughed.

"What's so funny?" Til asked, looking at her husband like he'd lost his mind.

"Link would love that rune."

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It was the prickling on his neck that woke him. It was an unsettling feeling, like he was being watched. He’d felt it a few times when a monster would try to jump him or his men during a journey.

Abel opened his eyes, instantly on edge and confused. He was home; why did he feel like he was being—

Oh.

A little set of beady eyes was staring at him silently from the stairway, peeking around the edge of the banister.

“Link…?” Abel whispered a little hoarsely. “What’s wrong?”

His son watched him mutely, biting his lip. He looked afraid.

Concerned, Abel slowly slid out of the bed, careful not to disturb Tilieth. “What’s the matter, son?”

The toddler looked at his feet, sniffling. When he still didn’t speak, Abel sighed, sitting on the stairs and pulling the little one onto his lap. Link was a bit of a mystery sometimes, though he wasn’t sure if that was because the child was really that bizarre or because he himself knew so little of children anyway. This was his first, after all. But either way… Link was a pendulum swinging rapidly between a noisy, boisterous, and reckless three-year-old and a stifled, quiet, and timid one. To some degree Abel saw his own more silent demeanor and Til’s exuberance for life fighting for dominance in the child, and he felt a little guilty for it.

But when Abel was scared, he would grow agitated and aggressive. He would fight his fear. This little one seemed overwhelmed by it… and he didn’t know how to address that.

Giving his boy a kiss on the head, he said, “Tell me what’s wrong, Link.”

“Bad dream,” Link finally admitted into his father’s chest, his little hands clinging to Abel’s tunic.

“Oh?” Abel prompted, rubbing the little one’s back reassuringly. “What was it about?”

Link shifted a little on his lap, and suddenly Abel felt the boy’s weight change, increasing rapidly. Caught off guard, he glanced down and saw Link, bloodied and broken and burnt, one eye swollen shut, the other bloodshot from exhaustion and exertion, a small chunk of flesh torn off his neck as it oozed blood from the one spot that hadn’t been cauterized by an energy beam. Abel jumped, nearly dropping his boy, horrified at the sight.

“You didn’t get to me in time,” Link said accusingly. “And I died because of it.”

Abel gasped as he awoke, scrambling for reality, heart in his throat. He whipped his head to the right and his eyes immediately fell on his teenage son, oblivious to the world around him. Neither eye was swollen any longer, though Abel had only glanced at their cerulean hue for a few minutes in the past ten years. Had they been bloodshot when they’d opened yesterday? His neck bore the traces of a burn, reddened and somewhat swollen but at least fully intact.

The former knight sighed and dropped his head to the ground, closing his eyes as he collected himself.

Slowly, after a few calming breaths, Abel opened his eyes and sat up, pulling Link up with him. Tilieth was still fast asleep on Link’s other side, bundled under the blankets they’d packed, her brow slightly furrowed in discomfort as the family slept on the floor of the shrine. 

With Link settled on his lap, held loosely in place by his left arm, Abel sifted through their bags to find some water. Stew would be best as it could provide some nutrition for the teenager as well, but nothing was prepared and Abel’s growing anxiety would not wait for breakfast. Grabbing a flask of water, he shook Link slightly, whispering softly to him. In previous shrines, getting a spirit orb had shown some sign of improvement in Link, but Abel couldn’t discern any notable changes in his son since they’d completed this shrine, and it was making him grow worried.

Despite multiple prompts and his voice growing ever louder, Abel was unable to make Link even stir. Tilieth eventually awoke with his attempts, sitting up and throwing an uneasy look in his direction.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“He won’t wake up,” Abel answered pitifully, as if this hadn’t been an issue before. Being able to get some water into the boy yesterday had given him hope for their journey, but now he couldn’t get Link to react, even briefly. Had it just been a fluke?

Abel shook his head. There was no way Link was getting worse , was there?

This was foolish and he knew it, wasn’t it? Link hadn’t even flinched throughout all their jostling yesterday. Maybe the boy just needed more sleep. He’d barely awoken for them yesterday, but… Abel had hoped it meant he was improving quickly.

Of course he’d been wrong.

Tilieth reached out, her hand settling on Link’s forehead, and Abel shook his head. “I’m sorry. It… maybe we’ll be able to give him some water later in the day.”

“There’s a river outside the shrine,” Til suggested as she stretched. “Maybe a cool bath will wake him up a little.”

Abel supposed that was possible. Til made a simple breakfast for the pair, and Abel went outside first to clear any monsters before bringing Link to the water. There was a small group of bokoblins just down the hill by the shore, and he dealt with them swiftly. With so many beasts around, though, he was beginning to consider wearing his old knight armor; he hadn’t been keen on doing so due to its cumbersome nature while carrying Link and had been wearing a warm doublet and trousers instead.

Sighing, Abel was temporarily distracted at the sight of a chest that the bokoblins had been apparently guarding. Opening it, he felt his stomach churn at the sight of what was inside.

A soldier’s bow.

Abel suddenly felt enraged. These monsters were pillaging the bodies of the fallen, combing through their homes and stealing their weapons to further Ganon’s chaotic agenda?! The very thought of such a desecration happening all over Hyrule nearly made him sick to his stomach.

He turned to further maim or burn the bodies of the creatures he’d slain only to find them disintegrating into dust and smoke, as all fell beasts did when Ganon had no more use for them.

Abel spat into the ground, marching back over to the shrine. After telling Til that the coast was clear, he kept watch while she cleaned herself and Link, using the bow he’d just acquired to pick off a stray bokoblin in the distance. As his eyes trailed the shoreline on the other side of the river, his gaze settled on two guardians sitting seemingly innocently on the ground, and he felt his breath catch at the sight of them.

If they’d been active he’d have known by now. They would have fired when he’d first attacked the pack of bokoblins. It didn't make him feel any less uneasy, though.

“I’m surprised Proxim Bridge held up as well as it did, considering how many guardians were crossing it back then.” Tilieth remarked from beneath the bridge. Then he heard her gasp slightly, and he slid on the slick rocks to get to her. Before he could ask what was wrong, she pointed to the water flowing on the other side of the bridge. “There’s a chest in the water, look!”

Abel sighed in exasperation. “Til, the amount of debris around here shouldn’t be a surprise to you.”

“It’s intact ,” Tilieth noted. “Let me see if there’s something useful inside.”

Abel spluttered in protest as his wife swam over into plain view, unable to stop her as she gently pushed Link towards him. His son was unphased, floating peacefully in the cool, clear water as his father held him afloat.

Tilieth reached the floating wooden chest, struggling a little to open it while swimming in the water. When she’d tried and failed three times, Abel called out to her. “Til, for the love of Hylia, get back over here! I can’t protect you from there!”

His wife was clearly growing frustrated with her lack of progress and swam to the rocky shore, climbing up and walking back towards their supplies underneath the bridge. Abel lost sight of her for a moment and then heard her scream .

Every nerve in his body fired in response, and he hastily tucked Link under the bridge and grabbed the bow and an arrow, knowing he probably couldn’t get within arm’s reach in time. When he leapt over the rocky wall of the bridge, he loosed an arrow at a brown figure near his wife and then felt a yell of shock and horror tear out of his throat immediately after.

The Hylian turned in time to see the arrow slam into his shoulder, and he hit the ground with a cry of pain.

Oh shit , Abel’s mind screamed. Shit, that’s a Hylian, an actual Hylian !

Tilieth slid under the bridge to hide, both horrified at being caught in such a state of undress and at what had just happened. Abel found himself at a loss for words.

It hadn’t occurred to either of them that they’d run into living, breathing people before they got to Kakariko.

“Zomi!” another voice cried, and Abel turned sharply to his left, seeing someone running towards him across the bridge, blade already raised.

Abel felt his mind numb as he nocked another arrow, and then Til was in view again, a green tunic covering her to her mid thighs. She waved frantically in the air. “Stop, wait!! My husband was just trying to protect me, we didn’t mean any harm!”

The Hylian on the ground grunted. “Feels pretty harmful to me .”

“You’re one of those thieves , aren’t you?!” the foreign woman yelled accusingly, raising her sword to point at Abel. “You think you can just attack anyone who is trying to travel?! Get away from my brother!”

“We’re not thieves,” Til replied, a little bemused at the branding. “We’re just…”

His wife trailed off, glancing at Abel uncertainly. Abel supplied, “We’re travelers.”

Finally, the former knight lowered his weapon, though he was still too addled to get near the injured Hylian. The woman grew hesitant with his action, uncertain of his intention. With the pause that it created, Abel managed to catch his breath and knelt beside the man. “I’m… sorry. My wife yelled and I—”

“Reacted,” Zomi grunted as he shifted uncomfortably. “Good thing you caught yourself in midshot, eh? Though I—Hylia above, this hurts … I’d really like to get this out.”

Abel bit his lip. He hadn’t changed the trajectory of his aim at all. He didn’t have the heart to tell the man the only reason he was alive was because archery was not Abel’s strength.

He couldn’t even fathom the fact that the only reason he hadn’t just murdered a man was because his aim was off.

“We can’t pull it out, you’ll bleed more,” Tilieth protested as the Hylian woman rushed over to the injured man.

“We have something for that,” the woman said dismissively as she reached for the arrow. Her brother hissed in pain as she braced, her brow furrowed in worry.

Abel put a hand on her shoulder. “Let me pull it out. It’ll be faster.”

“You’ve already hurt him enough!” she snapped.

“Hisal, please,” her brother pleaded, his voice shaking. “Let him do it.”

Hisal frowned, clearly not wanting to listen, but she backed off nonetheless, reaching into her large travel pack. Abel took a deep breath, putting one hand on Zomi’s shoulder and the other on the arrow. Then he pulled hard, leaving the stranger screaming as Tilieth looked away, slipping under the bridge to check on Link.

The sister shoved a bottle in her brother’s face, and he drank quickly, coughing a little on it as he groaned in pain. Once he was finished downing the contents of whatever concoction he was given, he laid on the ground, panting for air and sweaty, but… not bleeding. Abel glanced at the wound and saw that it was little more than a divot in his skin.

Abel looked at Hisal, amazed. “How did you do that?”

“Fairy,” she explained.

Abel grew confused. “Fairy? Those are exceedingly rare. And I didn’t see a fairy in that bottle.”

“If you cook them, they have healing properties.”

Abel’s mouth snapped shut. Somehow that seemed… wrong to cook such creatures. Weren’t they supposed to be gifts from the goddesses?

He didn’t comment. It wasn’t as if the goddesses had spared much after the calamity. People had to make do.

Maybe they could find some fairies too.

Tilieth appeared once more, wearing trousers and throwing her light blonde curly hair into a messy bun as she almost always did. “What are you two even doing here?”

“We were trying to make the pathway safer for travelers,” Hisal said as she helped her brother sit up. “People are slowly starting to try to venture out of their homes again. If we could make contact with others then maybe we can help each other out. But there are plenty whose homes were destroyed during the calamity and have been living out in the wilds. Some make do, but a lot try to jump people for supplies. It’s dangerous to travel anywhere right now.”

“So you’re… clearing the path?” Abel tried to surmise, growing tense. Had this Zomi person been about to attack Til, then?

Zomi rotated his arm a little, testing it as he grimaced slightly. “We’re building a shelter on the other side of the bridge. A place of refuge for weary travelers. I saw someone under the bridge and went to investigate. I’m… sorry for the scare.”

Abel’s tension drained out of him, and he slowly rose. “I believe I’m the one who should be apologizing.”

“Where are you two from?” Tilieth asked, prolonging the conversation ( unnecessarily , his mind added).

“Palmorae Village,” Zomi answered after a moment, sighing. “What’s left of it.”

There was a heavy silence in the air after that. Abel glanced around uneasily, wanting to check on Link though he knew Til had just done so. Clearing his throat, he said, “Well, you stumbled onto my wife as she was finishing up a bath, but I’m afraid I still have to clean up, so perhaps you two can get back to whatever you were building and we’ll leave each other in peace.”

His words fell on deaf ears, though, as the siblings stared off towards the shrine.

“Wasn’t it glowing orange yesterday?” Hisal wondered softly. 

Zomi shook his head, glancing at Abel. “Sorry, we just… these things have popped up everywhere . People are taking it all kinds of ways. Have you seen the towers? They’re enormous and they came out of nowhere , and it’s got people freaked out. Like… some are saying it’s for the guardians.”

Abel nearly laughed, but he bit his tongue instead. As entertaining as others’ interpretation of the situation was, he and Til still had a mission to accomplish, and these two were stalling them. 

Tilieth, on the other hand, was eager to speak. “Oh? Well, I don’t think it’s anything quite that foreboding. It could be a good sign.”

“That’s what I said,” Hisal muttered, nudging Zomi. 

Abel was finally at the end of his patience and turned to go under the bridge. “Either way, be safe. I’m sorry about earlier.”

The apology felt significantly less sincere than it really had any right to be, but he hadn’t spoken to anyone aside from his wife (and recently a dead man) in the last ten years and had enough adrenaline in his system to make him want to scream. He had little idea or tolerance for such an interaction.

Zomi noticed the finality in his tone and huffed a small, sheepish laugh, patting his sister on the shoulder. “Yes, I suppose we should get back to what we were doing. I… good luck to you two.”

With that, the siblings uneasily made their way across the bridge, dipping around the other end and climbing down an embankment. Abel immediately let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and rushed under the bridge to check on Link.

“You almost killed him,” Til said shakily as she followed him. “I–goddess, what if–I didn’t even think about—”

“I noticed,” Abel said flatly before adding with a sigh, “I didn’t think about it either.”

His train of thought derailed when he got to Link and saw the boy grimacing and shivering. Abel hastened his steps and knelt beside his son, quickly wrapping him in a larger cloak to dry him off. Til noticed his furrowed brow and immediately grabbed a water flask as Abel tried to coax him awake.

“Link,” he whispered, giving his son a little shake. “Open your eyes.”

Hylia, please , Abel prayed as he brushed damp locks of hair out of his boy’s face. “Wake up.”

Link looked like he truly was trying , but his furrowed brow started to relax, the crinkles around his eyes smoothed out, and he started to grow limp in his father’s hold. Tilieth let out a panicked little cry as Abel shook him again, but neither parent could rouse their child.

Abel sighed heavily. “Let’s just get him dressed and get going.”

Breakfast was simple and somber, and the couple was on their way soon enough. A quick scan from Abel ensured that the siblings they’d encountered were nowhere in sight as they crossed the bridge, though building materials were stacked to the side. As an afterthought, Til grabbed the slate and made an ice pillar to finally reach the treasure chest she’d been investigating, and she pulled a purple rupee from it.

“All of that for a purple rupee,” Abel sighed. At least it was more useful than amber.

Honestly, the more he thought about it the more he realized that if there truly were so many survivors, they had a fairly significant problem.

They were broke.

The thought was only a brief concern. They’d survived off the land long enough, he supposed. They didn’t need to buy from anyone. He looked distractedly to his left as Til returned, feeling his son’s legs sway by his sides, and saw the wrecked remains of a distant stable.

He wondered just how many people had actually ventured outside of their home towns and villages. He wondered how many towns and villages were even left.

Focus , he told himself, shaking his head. He hadn’t had these thoughts since the early years.

As the pair made their way on the path, the dueling peaks loomed steadily closer. Abel remembered when it used to be a comforting sight on his journeys home, when he was allowed time off duty. Except… there was something distinctly different.

There was a tower beside them!

“Didn’t you say the tower on the plateau let you map out the area on the slate?” Tilieth noted.

“I did,” Abel answered slowly, wondering if it was worth the climb. He knew this area like the back of his hand, after all.

Then again, the tower could have more to offer the slate. If nothing else, it would give him a good view to survey the region. It had been a decade - things changed.

“I‘ll climb it,” his wife said, catching him off guard. At his surprised expression, she added, “You're carrying Link. I don’t want you to get tired.”

“Til, that’s a hell of a climb.”

“I’ve got it,” she insisted, waving the slate. “Let’s get closer.”

A small monster encampment was just north of them, and it didn’t take much for Abel to eliminate it. The treasure they guarded was an opal, to Abel’s relief and Tilieth’s delight. His wife started to pick through the trail as well, finding herbs and berries and nuts and even snails on the shoreline at one point.

“Is that really necessary?” He asked as she stuffed a freshly caught butterfly into her pouch.

“It could come in handy,” she said lightly with a cheery smile.

The highlight of her strange fascinations was when she shoved a rock into a curiously formed hole and then smiled at the air above it, holding out her hand.

Abel stared at her in bemusement. “What are you doing?”

Til’s smile faltered a little as she looked at him, and then her eyes dulled a little with sadness before she shrugged and returned to the path ahead. “I’ll explain later.”

The tower itself was adjacent to a monster camp that rivaled the large one by the River of the Dead. Abel had practically gone to war with the beasts there a few times, keeping their numbers fairly low. Here, there were…

Wait a minute. Were those people ?

Abel froze, and Tilieth nearly ran into him with a yelp. Then she tensed as she recognized them too.

“Is… why does that look like a monster camp?” she asked quietly, her voice tight.

“I think they took over it.”

“So… that’s a good thing, right?” Tilieth asked, and a part of Abel despised that it even had to be a question. Given their last interaction, it was possible, but…

But Abel wasn’t a trusting man. Not anymore.

“I don’t know,” he answered. “Best to assume it isn’t. That man spoke of dangerous people on the road.”

“But… they would have passed them, wouldn’t they?”

That was a fair point. It didn’t make Abel feel any better, though. He didn’t want them to see Link.

“Let’s backtrack,” Abel said. “We—”

“Wait,” Til interrupted, staring at the shore. “Maybe there’s an alternative.”

Abel watched his wife tiptoe towards the shoreline, staring at a spot just by the water. When he examined where she was looking, he saw only the same rock that covered the rest of the shore. She reached down as if to pick up a stone and then jumped slightly, her hand shooting back as if it had been burnt.

Confused, he approached slowly, very aware that they were steadily creeping into the line of sight of the camp. “Til, what are you doing ?”

“I think I can find a safe path across the river,” Tilieth said. “We both can cross.”

“I can’t swim with Link on my back like this,” Abel immediately. “This current is too strong.”

“We’re not swimming,” Tilieth replied with a mischievous smile, pulling out the slate. “Follow me. With that, his wife started creating ice pillars to cross. Abel watched them warily. They were… fairly easy to traverse, but they were still made of ice . He’d barely managed to not slip when they’d first started using it in the snow shrine. And if they fell into the river…

Sighing, he watched as Til easily slid across three pillars to reach a little island where the stone tore out of the earth higher than the water could cover. They weren’t quite in view of the camp from here. He followed his wife, wondering why she again stopped on the rock and reached for something only to stop midway, but he didn’t bother voicing the question. They continued with this pattern until they were nearly all the way across the river. Then Tilieth smiled and held out her hand, her palm closing as if she’d grabbed something.

“Caught another bug?” Abel surmised, catching his breath after leaping across the river with Link in tow.

“Something like that,” Til said softly, her smile brightened by her flushed cheeks. Then she pointed ahead. “We’re almost at the tower!”

She wasn’t wrong. From here they could just hop to another rock and then they’d be at the shore again. Tilieth hastily ran ahead, climbing up some rocks that helped her reach nearly halfway up the tower.

“Be careful!” Abel called a little worriedly before settling Link on the ground. As he examined his boy, he noticed a little blood stain on Link’s trousers, right around where the strap of the harness would be. Feeling his gut clench a little, he slid them down to look and see the damage he suspected was happening.

The harness was hurting him. Because of course it was. It wasn’t as if something could go well for any of them. It wasn’t as if Link couldn’t just wake up , and—

Abel bit his lip, reaching into his bag for what little medical supplies they’d packed as he cleaned the pressure wounds. There was no sense in complaining about it. He just had to deal with it. Just like he dealt with everything else.

There was a yell of excitement and Abel looked up and nearly had a heart attack as his wife practically landed on top of them, their glider guiding her descent. Before he even had a chance to speak, Tilieth was immediately rambling with excitement.

“Honey, there was another upgrade to the slate, it has a sensor that can track shrines , we can find any shrine anywhere now and—why are Link’s pants pulled down? Did he make a mess? Why—is that blood? What happened?!”

Abel held up a hand in a desperate attempt to make his wife at least pause for breath so he could explain, and then her words registered. “A sensor? The slate can find shrines?”

Tilieth’s distress was evident when she started to speak again, so Abel hastily redressed their son and explained, “It’s the harness, Til. There wasn’t an attack. Tell me about the sensor.”

Tilieth bit her lip, anxiety sketched into every crease of her pinched face, and then she determinedly pulled out the slate. “If we follow the beeping, it’ll lead us to shrines. It’s already picked up on one nearby.”

Abel ignored how his stomach growled in protest while the midday sun hung heavily overhead. He was suddenly filled with energy at the sliver of hope that maybe, just maybe , something was finally going well today. Carefully slipping the harness back on Link, he rose with his son. “Then let’s get going.”

Tilieth rushed ahead, leaving Abel to run to keep up with her. At first they climbed a few rocks and then started to trace a path around the mountain. Then Til paused so abruptly Abel crashed right into her.

“Til, what the—”

“The signal stopped,” she interjected, a little worried. “Let’s try again.”

Turning around, Tilieth brushed by Abel, who followed her hesitantly, his brow steadily crinkling together. He heard the little slate chirping more frantically as they moved, and Tilieth picked up the pace once more.

And then she stopped again.

“ Til— ”

“It keeps disappearing.” She said, squinting at the screen. “I think… honey, I think we have to climb .”

You’ve got to be kidding me.

He shouldn’t have been surprised at this point.

Shaking his head, he said, “Well, if it means we can find a shrine, then let’s go.”

The couple looked upward, sizing up the mountain. There were perches for them to cling to, but it wasn’t going to be a pleasant experience. Abel’s gut churned; if Til lost her grip, there was nothing he could do to catch her. He didn’t like this.

Then again, they had little choice in the matter. And she had the paraglider, so there was that.

Slowly but surely, the two started to climb, emboldened by the repeated encouragement from the slate.

And then, halfway up the mountain, it stopped.

“What happened?” Abel asked, growing a little concerned and more than a little frustrated.

“We lost the signal,” Tilieth muttered, carefully looking at the slate as sweat poured off her forehead. “But… it didn’t… this doesn’t make sense…”

“Maybe we should just bomb our way through the mountain,” Abel grumbled.

“No, we have to figure this out!” Tilieth argued. Abel noticed with worry that her arm was visibly trembling.

“We will,” he insisted. “But let’s reach the top first.”

The pair continued on, and Abel quickly realized how completely idiotic of a suggestion that had been. There was absolutely no way they were reaching the top. Thankfully, though, there were outcroppings where they could stop and rest. By the time Abel dragged himself onto stable, even ground, his body gave out altogether, leaving him in a crumpled pile lying prone in the grass while Link slowly crushed the air out of him. Tilieth wasn’t of much help as she was splayed out on her back beside him, panting.

“Why—is there—a shrine—in the middle—of the mountain?” she asked between breaths.

“Why can’t that damn sensor figure out where the hell we’re supposed to go?” Abel snapped. “It has to be broken.”

Til groaned as she pushed herself into a seated position and gently coaxed Abel to lie on his side so she could get Link out of the harness. A steady rain started to coat the area, washing their sweat away along with any chance of continuing their climb anytime soon. Sighing, Abel finally crawled over to Link and pulled him close so he could shield him from the rain. He could already feel his boy shivering a little under him.

“I’m going to look around,” Tilieth resolved tiredly. “Maybe I can figure this sensor out.”

Abel didn’t bother to throw his two rupees in on the matter. Instead, he carried Link and found a tree to serve as somewhat tolerable shelter, and then he started rifling through their bag to see if Til had any elixir. They’d promised to not use any unless absolutely necessary, but if he couldn’t get Link to wake up long enough to sip more than two gulps of water, he’d need one soon enough.

Speaking of which, he should try to wake him again. At least Link was reacting to his surroundings once more. Every fiber of his being screamed in protest as Abel pulled Link into his lap and shook him a little, and his stomach was so tight he felt nauseous.

Maybe he should eat something too.

The ground shook , and Abel heard Tilieth call for him frantically.

Propping Link by the tree, he immediately grabbed his sword and ran to find his wife, only to find…

Only to find a stone talus.

Tilieth was miniscule in front of the monstrosity, running for her life to get to Abel.

“TILIETH!” he called. 

The stone talus took an enormous step and Tilieth screamed, dodging its feet within the last second. She managed to reach Abel just to slam into him, and he nearly fell over before whirling around to drag her away. 

His mind screamed a million different things at once. Where would they go?! How would they get Link to safety?!

Someone had to distract the beast.

Just as Abel shouted a command to his wife, she dragged him to the tree and pointed at Link. “Pick him up, we have to climb!”

“It’ll pick us off before we can ever get anywhere! It needs to be distracted,” Abel shook his head, throwing the harness to her. “Get him out of here!”

“No!” Til shouted as the ground shook again, the beast looming just around the corner. “Climb the tree ! Remember the little taluses on the plateau? As long as they couldn’t see us they’d go back to their resting place. They’re even dumber than bokoblins, Abel!”

“You—you want to hide in the tree— ”

“Come on!”

Well there wasn’t any stopping her. Abel quickly switched strategies, pulling Link onto his back and hastily clamoring into the branches. It appeased Til long enough for him to try to come up with a new strategy.

The stone talus loomed into view and then paused just a step away from them. It swiveled its stone body a few times as if looking for them. Abel and Tilieth held their breath.

A bird squawked beside them, making Til yelp. Another bird at the outcropping across from them flew off, startled. The movement caught the talus’ attention, and suddenly Abel’s world shifted and any stabilizing force holding the tree together fell apart as the talus picked up the tree and tossed it high into the sky .

Both parents yelled in horror as they flew through the air. The tree was steadily stripped of its leaves until Abel could see a clear view of ground underneath him - they’d cleared the mountain peak entirely. If they held onto the tree any longer they’d fall right back down into the river far below.

Assuming they didn’t hit the rocks first.

“Let go!” he shouted.

“What?!”

“Let—go!!”

Tilieth screamed but obeyed, and the two hit the ground hard before rolling a little ways. The tree continued straight over the cliffside, splintering on the ground far, far below.

The stone talus was nowhere in sight. Nor were any landmarks, until Abel looked around over the cliffside, dizzy and disoriented. 

They were on the top of the mountain.

The air was considerably colder, wind howling against his face and stinging his cheeks. The biting chill was a slap of reality to the face, and he gasped, unfastening the harness just as Tilieth helped pull Link off him.

Their boy was bruised, with some blood leaking out of his nose, but none the worse for it. Though he was clearly cringing in pain.

“Link, oh Link, baby I’m so sorry,” Tilieth sobbed, holding the boy. “I was just trying to figure out where the sensor was leading, the talus came out of nowhere— ”

Abel put a hand on Til’s shoulder, too out of breath to comfort with words, when the slate chirped.

“That damn thing,” he snapped, getting ready to grab it and throw it when Tilieth gasped and pointed behind him.

Turning, he saw a shrine glowing at the very top of the mountain, nestled between two stone formations that looked like pillars.

On the other blasted mountain .

Abel was going to lose his mind. He was. He really, truly was. 

Gritting his teeth, he took a steadying breath, his chest burning both inside and out as his ribs protested against movement while his lungs protested against the dryer air. 

Shooting to his feet, Abel swayed in place and nearly fell back over, but he spread his feet a little to plant himself into the ground as Tilieth hurried to steady him. He stormed away from the twin mountain, away from his wife, and away from his son.

“Abel, where are you going?” Til asked shakily.

Abel waved a hand over his head, beyond words. His ribs hurt too much to talk anyway, and he was ready to go off .

The only way this day could get worse was if Link didn’t wake up at least once to drink something, and that seemed a likely possibility considering getting catapulted into the air didn’t rouse him .

Tilieth’s tear—filled call made him pause, and he clenched his fists, trying and failing to calm down. He wasn’t mad at her. He wasn’t mad at anyone .

Well. Maybe he was a little mad at Hylia. Maybe that was why they were getting pulverized like this.

What was it that they used to say back in the day? Trust the goddess?

Abel scoffed. Trusting in the goddess got Hyrule destroyed. Her royal bloodline had failed Hyrule and his son.

Yet he had failed Link just as badly, if not worse.

Abel’s knee suddenly gave out, and he yelped as he face-planted into the damp grass. His body felt like it was on fire and he couldn’t even tell if it was from pain or the pure frustrated rage that was about to tear out of his throat.

Instead, he took a shuddering breath and slowly sat up. Glancing back where he’d walked away, he saw Tilieth sitting on the ground with Link’s head in her lap as she rocked him slowly. He couldn’t see her face from where he was, but he could see her shaking.

The former knight sighed, drained of his anger and filled with hopelessness and exhaustion. Slowly, he rose to go back to his family and offer what little support he had left in him. When he approached, Tilieth looked at him, her cheeks stained with tears.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, barely audible over the wind.

“This isn’t your fault.” I’m sorry too.

Abel knelt beside her, slowly and gingerly wrapping an arm around her as he helped cradle Link. The wind blew harder, making both parents shiver in the cold, and it blew a few pebbles over the side of the mountain.

Only for them to bounce against something that was distinctly not stone.

Both Til and Abel glanced in the direction of the drop where the rocks had just fallen before looking at each other with curiosity and, in Til’s case, the smallest glimmer of hope. His wife rose first, leaving Link in his care, and Abel watched her walk as he held his son tightly.

Tilieth gasped and quickly said, “Abel! Abel there’s a shrine here! Just under the cliff!”

Though his joints were stiffening from the bitterly chilly wind and the cool moisture seeping into his clothes from the ground, Abel still had a little energy left to lift Link and follow his wife. Just as she proclaimed, a shrine sat waiting innocently for them just a little slide away.

There were two shrines . Twin shrines for the twin peaks.

Abel let out a weak, tired laugh, his breath carried away by the gusts.

“Then what are we waiting for? Let’s get Link’s spirit orbs.”

Chapter Text

Abel had to admit his day couldn’t get much more irritating.

Perhaps irritating wasn’t the right word. He wouldn’t call almost murdering a Hylian irritating, nor would he call finding the dead desecrated irritating, nor being launched to the top of a mountain by a stone talus.

Perhaps, then, this next setback was only completely infuriating because of everything else. And now everything was irritating.

The shrines atop these peaks share a connection—their memory the answer to the other’s question. Commit to memory before you start, lest, a failure, you will depart.

Abel stared glumly at the words on the plaque while Til wandered the shrine, scribbling madly to memorize or draw every inch of the place. They’d already known there was another shrine, so it didn’t take much to piece together the meaning. The issue now was that they had to climb yet another mountain and had nothing to show for it, and would then have to double back to this one.

Despite the former knight’s best efforts to stop himself from using the bomb rune to destroy the shrine altogether, his frustration was very evident to his wife, who offered to use the paraglider to travel between the mountains and investigate the other shrine. Abel had flatly refused; Til was not as good a climber as him, after all, and the height difference between the peaks and possible launch points meant she’d have to climb.

Besides, she’d already climbed the tower. It was evident she was as exhausted as he was. Lunch (dinner? He wasn’t sure at this point) hadn’t helped much.

No, Abel had insisted on going instead. The shrine was a safe place to leave his wife and son.

Til walked over slowly, glaring at the slate.

“What’s wrong?” Abel asked.

“It’s this thing,” she said slowly with no elaboration. Abel’s patience was worn thin, but before he could snappily ask, she continued, “It always talks about a travel gate when we activate things. It has to mean something.”

“Don’t they appear as points on the map?” Abel offered, glancing at Link distractedly. The boy hadn’t moved, but he was at least resting comfortably, bundled in several blankets to make a little bed for him.

“Yes, but why call them travel gates?” 

“Because they’re notable travel points?” Abel threw out halfheartedly. He didn’t want to get into this, honestly. He already knew what he needed to do.

Til hummed, hovering her finger over the slate. She scrunched her nose, poking the slate, and Abel refrained from rolling his eyes, patience running out.

“Til, for heaven’s sake, just give me the damn thing so I can take Link—”

The rest of his statement was choked off by a yell of surprise as wife started floating and glowing before vanishing into a string of light .

“TIL!” he shouted, looking around frantically. “TILIETH!”

What had—where did she— what the hell just happened ?!

Link sniffled, but it went unnoticed by his frantic father, who started running around the shrine. When he quickly surmised Tilieth wasn’t inside, he rushed outdoors into a pouring rain, wind whipping chilled pellets of water into his eyes. Shielding himself with his hands, he continued to worriedly search, his heart racing. He couldn’t even fathom what had just happened - it had to be some sort of Sheikah trick, right? He’d seen—

His breath caught. He’d seen Yiga disappear in a mixture of light and enchanted paper. Was this the same sort of magic? He already knew that the old man wasn’t Yiga, it was the king for Hylia’s sake—

A whooshing sound emitted behind him, back at the shrine, and he whirled to see blue strings of light coalesce into his wife, safe, sound, and staring with her eyes wide open.

“Oh,” she said quietly.

“Tilieth!” Abel slammed into her, hugging her tightly before pulling her away to look her over. “Are you alright?! What happened?!”

Tilieth blinked a few times, seeming to orient herself, and then she smiled reassuringly, cupping his cheek. “I’m okay, Abel. It was the slate - look!”

Her unease melted away in lieu of eagerness and curiosity as she held the slate in front of him. At his confused expression, she explained, “The travel gates! If you touch a travel gate the slate takes you there! I just went to the tower and then came back here!”

“It… takes you… the slate teleports you?”

“Yes!” Tilieth smiled. “Isn’t that wonderful? We could travel to any of these shrines!”

Despite the information pouring over him in a similar fashion to the rain, Abel found himself finally growing a little warm with hope. That could make their current predicament much easier.

“Give it to me,” he said, holding out his hand. “I can activate the gate on the other shrine.”

“Not in the rain, you’re not! You can’t climb with Link like this,” Til argued, grabbing his wrist. “Let’s get inside, you’re shivering.”

Shivering though he was, he could tell his wife was trembling almost as badly. Once they reentered the shrine, he asked, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Tilieth rubbed her arms in a small hug, chuckling nervously. “I… I am. Just unsettled by that. But I mean, it’s also great!”

Abel watched her uncertainly. “...Can it transport more than one person?”

Both grew silent, and the large, empty shrine hummed ominously as they contemplated the matter. That wasn’t… exactly something they wanted to test out.

“It… should be safe, right?” Tilieth said hesitantly.

Abel didn’t have any reassurance to give, only the fact that he and Link could potentially use it to get back to this shrine once they’d crossed the mountain. The wind that was sucked in between the Dueling Peaks would at least give them a good boost over, but coming back…

Honestly, it was worth a try if it meant he wasn’t paragliding across mountains with an endless fall waiting for him. He wasn’t exactly a fan of heights.

“Did it hurt?” he asked.

“No,” Tilieth immediately answered. “Honey, I told you I’m fine.”

Abel directed his attention towards Link. His wife didn’t appear to be injured, but he didn’t want to exacerbate whatever Link was enduring.

That was also when he realized that Link’s eyelashes were fluttering. He hastened over to his boy, kneeling and shaking him lightly. “Link. Wake up.”

Tilieth went to his other side, hand resting over his forehead. Despite his efforts, though, the teenager stilled, and his parents sighed.

“We have to try it,” Abel finally said. “We’re running out of time, and I don’t want to risk dropping him either.”

Putting the boy back in his harness, Abel slowly rose and went outside. Tilieth gave him a drawing she’d made of the patterns inside the shrine. 

“It has to do with the glowing orbs, I’m sure of it,” she said with conviction. “See what you can figure out. I’ll be here, okay?”

Abel nodded, paraglider in his sweaty grip as the wind howled. Taking a deep breath, he decidedly refused to look down, and despite every fiber of his being screaming to not jump where there is no ground , he kicked off from the mountain.

Having started from the very top of the peak, its twin didn’t seem too much taller. However, the combined weight of the former knight and his boy did drag them down a little bit. Abel grunted when he hit the wall, one arm desperately clinging to a stone while the other put the paraglider away. Then he started to climb, and he had to look up and almost mutter a prayer of thanks when the top was just a few reaches away.

This new shrine mirrored the other one, which wasn’t a surprise. Thankfully, with Til’s drawing, the solution became clear quickly. Abel hastily put the orbs where they belonged and snatched up his son in his arms, letting him touch the barrier that encased the monk. When they were teleported outside, the thought of it gave Abel pause. They were constantly being transported as a group - surely the slate could handle what the shrines could do, then?

With Link resting comfortably on his back, Abel looked at the slate, finger hesitantly hovering over the twin shrine. He swallowed and pressed against it.

Immediately, Abel felt a strange lightness to him. His feet left the ground, and he had a strong sense of pulling before the world went white hot and then vanished into darkness for a moment. Then he blinked and in a dizzying realization found himself standing, shakily, in front of the shrine on the other mountain. He gasped for air, having forgotten to breathe, and then anxiously reached up to feel Link still sleeping peacefully on his back.

That… was… not as bad as he expected. And it was far more efficient.

Thank goodness for that .

Entering the shrine, Abel quickly turned over the parchment that Til had given him to show his own drawing to his wife. He smiled as she watched him hopefully. “It worked. And we can solve this one too now.”

Tilieth stole the parchment away before he could get another word in, eagerly moving orbs around. He settled Link on the floor and watched her, giddy with the utmost relief . 

It was about damn time something went their way.

Abel was going to rest a little, but he felt amusement mixed with pity swirl inside him as Tilieth started struggling to carry the ball by the third column. He stepped over to assist her, and she quietly handed the heavy stone over to him, looking a little guilty.

“It’s all right,” he appeased her. 

“You’ve been carrying Link all day,” Tilieth sighed. “I wanted to do something for you.”

“You figured out the shrines,” Abel assured her as he placed the last three stones. “That’s more important than anything. Besides, you climbed the tower - you have reason to be tired.”

As his words echoed in the chamber, the entranceway to the monk’s chamber opened with a hiss, and the couple smiled at each other.

By this point they had managed to find three spirit orbs since departing the plateau. That was nearly as many as what was on the plateau itself. After four shrines Link had stopped bleeding and had even awoken briefly to ingest something. Surely if they could find one more, they’d have similar luck. At least, that was the hope.

Hope. Hope . Goddess above, Abel felt a sense of hope . He huffed a little as he watched Tilieth finger comb Link’s hair while they planned their descent down the mountain. Although he’d known the shrine was meant to heal Link, hope was never quite a word he’d thought about or felt since the Calamity.

It probably won’t last , a bitter voice muttered in the back of his mind.

He looked away from his family. No… perhaps it wouldn’t. But for now he wouldn’t fight it. It almost felt real. Besides, he had to focus on the objective, anyway. Arguing about how his emotions were involved wasn’t going to solve their current predicament.

Abel took a step forward, and the slate chirped.

The couple glanced at the object curiously. Was it the sensor again? Did it detect another shrine? Abel’s earlier frustration with the object had lessened considerably, but he was still hesitant to try and follow its signal. Tilieth seemed equally uncertain, as she opted for looking around for physical clues rather than just grabbing the slate and using it as a compass.

His wife gasped in delight as she looked over the edge. “Abel! There’s another shrine along the main path!”

Along the main path ? Glancing in the same area, looking straight down and feeling his stomach twist a little at the height, he saw an orange glow.

Honestly, at this point, he wasn’t sure if he should be pleased that they found the easily accessible one last or exasperated that it was just their luck. Either way, a shrine was a shrine. “Well… that makes things less complicated. It looks like it’s on a trail going down the mountain.”

So they wouldn’t have to climb or jump. Thank the goddess.

The pair moved quickly, saddling up and stepping with haste. The next shrine came into view, and upon entering, the new puzzle quickly became apparent.

“The switches control the platforms,” Tilieth muttered as she stepped on one and watched a flat platform slant so that a ball could roll into an awaiting receptacle. “I suppose the slate was correct in saying timing is critical.”

“These are children’s puzzles, Til,” Abel commented dryly. “Let’s go.”

And children’s puzzles they were. The first was laughably simple and easy, and thank goodness for that. They deserved the break. He again found himself wondering how these were designed to strengthen the Hero in preparation for the Calamity. Timing in battle was important, of course, but regular combat training could teach that far better than this game of switches and balls. 

Abel’s mouth twisted downward in mild annoyance as the second puzzle sent the ball flying against a wall and down into the bottomless pit.

“Oh, yes, so very easy,” Tilieth giggled. “Maybe let me do this.”

“I’ve got it,” Abel quipped mildly, slightly annoyed as another ball fell from the ceiling to replace the one he’d lost. He quickly got the second ball in its place, hopping onto the lift to get to the last one. The ball slid into place perfectly with one attempt, and the pair let the lift take them to the final platform. Tilieth’s gaze immediately drifted to a treasure chest that was just out of view, and Abel grabbed her gently but firmly by the hand. “Come on, Til, we don’t have time for treasure hunting. Nearly got someone killed with that.”

Tilieth didn’t argue, reasonably in agreement with him, though she still looked a little disappointed. Abel found it a little endearing - his wife’s excitement for discovery was one of her traits that had attracted him in the first place. But by heaven, if it wasn’t a fault when they had an actual mission to complete.

“You know,” Tilieth said thoughtfully. “We actually haven’t gotten any the chests from any of the last three shrines. Why don’t you rest with Link and I’ll see if—”

“Til,” Abel interrupted with a halfhearted glare.

“I’m serious!” Tilieth argued. “It could have important items! Like the sword I found you.”

“Or all the amber you’ve found?” Abel fired back.

“You need to rest anyway,” Tilieth pointed out. “ I’m the one doing the searching. And now I have a way to travel easily between shrines.”

Abel was going to argue further, but his wife pleading look practically screamed let me have this , and he gave in with a heavy sigh.

It wasn’t like anything inside the shrines had been dangerous this time.

“Fine,” he finally said, admitting defeat.

When the pair was transported outside, Abel returned into the shrine while Tilieth eagerly started messing with the slate. He slid to the floor, placing Link on his lap and leaning against the wall tiredly. It was getting dark - he hoped she wouldn’t take too long.

Abel’s gaze drifted down to his son. The burn on his neck was light pink like freshly healed skin. It had been deeper this morning. He smiled at the improvement, but it would definitely scar.

He still couldn’t believe it had even managed to heal as much as it had. Then again, it had been ten years. How long would it have taken that shrine to finish healing if a decade’s work was what the body could accomplish in a few weeks? Abel knew the boy had been far too injured for proper healing, but…

Abel took one step blindly. Then another. He couldn't take his eyes off the boy, he couldn't get words to form. He reached out, his hand trembling, eyes wide with horror, screams caged in his chest, dying with what was left of his heart.

The still fingers. The still feet. The still body. The paleness, the redness, the black and blue and–

Abel couldn't breathe.

Abel snapped out of the memory, his body rigid from experiencing it anew, shaking his head to rid the images from his mind. Goddess. It had been years since he’d thought about that night.

“Why can’t you just wake up, little knight,” he pleaded quietly, brushing some hair out of the boy’s face.

What he would give to see the boy’s blue eyes again. What he would give to see his boy smile, or frown, or pout, or bear that stony expression that had carved his features for the last few years before everything fell apart. He’d take anything, he’d give anything, just to see him again.

The hum of the lift caught his attention instead, and he saw Tilieth rushing forward with a satisfied smile, light blonde hair disheveled. He raised an eyebrow at her appearance. “Everything… all right?”

“Found some weapons for you,” she said triumphantly, showing him a serpentine spear. “Off to get the chest here.”

Abel shrugged as she ran by, leaving the weapon beside him. She bested the puzzles even faster than he had, knowing what to expect. He lost sight of her, but the anxiety from watching her take off across chasms had started to fade. She had managed so far, after all… and to be honest he was fairly certain his mind was growing numb from exhaustion.

He felt frustrated at that, bringing forth some life in him once more. He couldn’t afford to be too tired to care. He had to protect his family. Before he could properly chastise himself and stand, though, Tilieth was back, presenting him with a new gift.

Abel stared at it. “A bandana?”

“Not just any bandana,” Tilieth said as if she were announcing the star of a play. “The slate said it’s called the climber’s bandana, and it’s enhanced with technology to give you core strength and help you climb more easily.”

Abel’s expression grew deadpan. “A technological bandana that makes me magically stronger.”

“Oh, just try it on!”

He sighed heavily, taking the garment. “I’m going to look like a Lurelin fisherman in this, or worse, a pirate.”

“It might look fetching on you!”

Honestly, it was once again not worth arguing. At least his wife’s fetch quests were over. “We should keep moving. The stable isn’t far from here, and we can rest there for the night.”

Tilieth’s bright expression faded. “...Abel… the stable was destroyed in the Calamity.”

The words settled in his mind like a stone sinking to the bottom of a lake. Years of memories spent resting on the last leg of his journey home, or giving the children a break from riding before they set out on a long trip, flashed before his eyes and were burned away in guardian fire. Abel swallowed. “Of course it was. Was there anything left? We could salvage something, at least.”

Tilieth hugged herself, looking away. Abel wanted to kick himself for even asking. She wanted to speak of the Calamity even less than he did. To placate and distract her, he put the bandana on. “How do I look?”

Tilieth giggled, brushing some hair aside that had fallen into his eyes, trapped in place by the cloth. “Like a dashing knight.”

“You always say that,” Abel huffed with a smile, nuzzling her nose. “How dark is it outside?”

“The sun’s already set.”

Abel chewed his lip, debating the matter. It would be better to cover more ground, but if the stable was completely destroyed, they'd have no cover for the beasts of the night.

Tilieth fidgeted. “The slate… did seem to pick up another shrine, though. In the direction of the stable and…”

And the fort.

Abel suddenly felt his blood freeze. He shook it off, though. “Well if there are more shrines, best get them in while we can. Kakariko will be close enough that we can get to it by the end of tomorrow if we just get to the stable.”

Tilieth hesitantly agreed. The couple headed out once more. Tilieth took the paraglider from her husband and hopped off the ledge, giving him anxiety as he called out to her. When he looked down at the main path on the ground, Tilieth was smiling up at him.

“It isn’t that far of a fall,” she reassured him. “And when it’s just me it’s very easy to glide! Oh, I wish I’d had one of these sooner.”

So you could give me a heart attack sooner? Memories of Link and their daughter, Lyra, pitching themselves off the freshly made stable roof to jump into the little pond by their home passed in his mind. He honestly wasn’t sure how he hadn’t gotten grey hair before the Calamity with the way his family was.

Shaking his head, he opted to climb down rather than follow the slope, as it would reunite them faster. As he did so, he found himself moving more expediently, Link somehow feeling a little lighter. Concerned, he looked at his son, but from his vantage he could see nothing different. When he reached the bottom he made a motion to pull the harness off and look his son over, when Tilieth clapped in delight. “The bandana does help!”

Abel blinked. Was that it?

Good grief. A magical bandana. He shouldn’t be surprised at this point.

A bokoblin horde stood between them and the end of the Dueling Peaks trail, and Abel dispatched them quickly. They had conveniently left a fire just out of sight, allowing him to send a flaming arrow towards some explosive barrels they were harvesting. Nature took care of the rest.

When they rounded the corner of the mountainside, Abel didn’t know what he was going to see, nor did he know what he’d expected. But the old stable was… certainly not in its better days. The giant horse head that usually decorated the tent was long gone, traces of wood all that remained, splintered across the field. The fabric of the tent was mostly torn and rotted, though some of the bare bones of the stable remained. In fact…

Were those people around there?

Abel remembered the traveler’s words from the morning, how some had taken to attacking others to get the resources they needed, and he grew tense.

“Abel, look! There’s another tower! And the shrine’s right here!”

Tilieth tapped him incessantly, pulling him towards a small pond that the children had loved to play in whenever they’d stopped at the stable. Had that shrine always been there? Abel felt like he would have remembered if it had.

Well. They hadn’t started excavating Sheikah technology when the kids were little. But how could this have hidden so easily?

And why in the world did it have a barricade around it?

The movement in his peripheral vision settled, and Abel turned sharply to realize that he’d lost track of the people who had been by the stable. His heart started racing, and he quickly started to unstrap the harness that held Link. “Watch him. I have to make sure those people don’t get near us.”

“People? What people?” Tilieth asked, looking around wildly as she bent down to brace Link against herself.

“We need to find a way in the shrine,” Abel advised, drawing his blade. “It’ll be safe there.”

He really regretted suggesting they move forward. He’d just wanted to save them some time. Impa supposedly had answers for them, after all, and they could only play this game for so long if Link didn’t wake up once more.

Abel felt something get snatched off his head, and he turned to see Tilieth tying the bandana behind her ears. “What are you…?”

“You focus on the threats, I’ll focus on the shrine,” she said quietly, taking the harness from him as well. “I’ll get him inside, don’t worry.”

Nodding, he turned to face the stable once more, but there was still no movement. Where had those people gone? Had they not noticed the couple?

When he turned to make sure he knew Tilieth’s position, he saw her climbing the mountainside with Link on her back. He hissed her name to get her attention - she didn’t need to be exposed for the entire world to see like that–

Tilieth pushed off from the stone, pulling out the paraglider and floating over the wooden stakes that guarded from the shrine, landing heavily at the building’s doorstep. Huffing, she collapsed onto her hands and knees and gave Abel a weak smile with a thumb’s up.

Abel sighed, equal parts exasperated and proud. He saw his wife enter the shrine with their boy, and his chest tightened in worry once more. He hoped whatever puzzle awaited them wasn’t too serious.

After a few minutes, the former knight quickly started to surmise that the lack of movement was likely because whoever was by the stable had gone to sleep. It seemed… awfully trusting of them. Surely, they had to have someone on watch. He wasn’t going to find out.

Taking an uneasy guardpost by the wooden stakes, Abel sheathed his sword, keeping his senses alert.

When someone did emerge from the stable, he narrowed his eyes, hackles raised, until he quickly realized that it was a child .

The little girl in question couldn’t have been more than eight or nine–Lyra’s age when the Calamity took her, his mind whispered. She had dark brown hair and wore clothes that were strikingly similar to styles Lyra had worn.

Those were Hateno clothes.

The child snuck over quickly to Abel’s area, eyes fixed on the shrine. Abel slowly and quietly crept behind the structure so she wouldn’t see him, crouching to hide just below the barricade. The girl picked up some pebbles and threw them into the water.

“Uma!” someone hissed, barely audible over the waterfall crashing behind him. “Get inside, it isn’t safe!”

“But I’m making a wish on the shrine!” Uma argued. “Kelnick said–”

“Uma, come inside, now . That shrine is dangerous, we put a barrier there for a reason!”

Said barrier suddenly burst into flames, magically burning away despite the water it was sitting in. Abel leapt back, alarmed, and the little girl screamed.

And then Tilieth emerged, looking satisfied with herself. Her expression immediately grew panicked when she saw the child and her mother, who were both looking at her in terror.

Abel stepped forward, sheathing his blade and holding his hands out. “We’re not here to cause trouble. Go back to the stable with your daughter.”

“You—the building!” the mother pointed at the shrine. Her eyes traced beyond the shrine and Tilieth, however, and settled on Link, and she let out a gasp. “Is he okay?”

Abel grew tense, but he tried not to become too defensive. The woman was clearly not a threat, and he refused to make the same mistake, even if he didn’t trust her.

“He’s…” Tilieth looked hesitantly at Abel. Neither had really planned on explaining anything of Link’s situation to anyone aside from Impa. After all, the king had spoken of attacks from Ganon, a thought that sent a chill shuddering down Abel’s spine. He had absolutely no intention of making Link any more vulnerable than he was.

“He’s ill,” Abel said succinctly. “Caught something earlier in the day. We’re letting him rest. He’ll be fine.”

“Oh, but you–you should sleep somewhere where there’s shelter, in case there’s rain,” the mother insisted. “We’ve been trying to rebuild the stable, there’s some space for people to sleep now. You should come inside, there are a handful of us.”

“We’re fine,” Abel said warily.

“Please,” the woman continued, pulling her child to her. “I… I know people are scared of strangers these days. But… my father used to run this stable, and I want to be able to make it a place of safety again. I promise nobody will hurt you. My husband has even been practicing fighting! He’s gotten pretty good at fending off ‘blins with a farming pitchfork.”

Tilieth’s hesitancy started to fade, and the look in her eyes spoke more of we should help them than they’re going to hurt Link .

Abel sighed. Tilieth wasn’t wrong in the change of the situation. If the only defense the stable had was a half trained farmer, they weren’t very safe. But he couldn’t exactly lend his aid - he had to take care of Link.

“We need a place to stay the night anyway,” Tilieth whispered.

Abel opened his mouth to argue and found no words coming out. He couldn’t justify abandoning these people when they were in such a false sense of security. But one night’s protection wasn’t going to save them, either. Nevertheless, he relented, though it didn’t drain him of all the tension. Just because this woman was trustworthy didn’t mean her guests were.

He wasn’t sleeping tonight.

“Very well,” he agreed reluctantly.

As Abel followed the mother into the dilapidated remains of the stable, he clenched his jaw tightly to stave off the emotions wreaking havoc inside of him. Little Lyra ran across his vision, giggling in delight as she chased a butterfly. Little Link pointed to all the horses and gave them names and tried to climb into the pen with all the animals. He shook his head, and his children’s ghosts vanished. He had to focus.

Inside, the beds were all broken or burnt husks, but pillows and blankets had been stacked on the side that still had some canvas covering the half broken tent frame. There were four other people inside. The husband was obvious, wearing a blend of Hateno traditional attire with a stablekeep’s hat, while–

Oh. It was those siblings again.

Thankfully, both were fast asleep. That left one more guest, who immediately made Abel feel a strange sense of both unease and relief.

It was a Sheikah warrior.

Her attire, skin tight and dark, denoted her style of fighting. Her hair was pulled up in a tight topknot, and her face was mostly covered in a black cloth, leaving only hazel eyes, which were watching him intensely. A spear rested loosely on her lap.

Tilieth smiled at her. “You’re a Sheikah, right?”

Abel really wished his wife wasn’t so friendly sometimes. He knew he should be happy to see another Sheikah, but he couldn’t shake the paranoia that had started to creep up his spine ever since leaving the plateau. It had been too long since he’d dealt with other people, it seemed. At least the mother was defenseless, the child harmless. A warrior was a threat, no matter where they were from these days.

He definitely wasn’t sleeping tonight.

The woman nodded mutely, her eyes drifting elsewhere, and Abel realized they were resting decidedly on Link.

They widened.

Abel’s hand slowly reached for his sword, and the warrior rose abruptly, turning away too quickly for him to react and start a fight. Without a single word, the warrior went outside.

The new stablewoman called after the warrior, a little more quietly so as not to disturb the others, and her husband watched with mild concern before turning his attention to them.

“It’s good to see other travelers out here,” he said softly. “Nice to see people venturing out again, you know? I hope you know you’re safe here. I keep watch at night while my wife runs things during the day. That way people are always safe. That’s our first priority.”

Abel stared outside, having lost sight of the Sheikah warrior, and the stablewoman returned, chewing her lip, clearly upset.

“Did she leave?” the stableman asked.

His wife nodded. “I hope we didn’t upset her or anything.”

“Who was she?” Abel asked, eyes narrowing.

“We don’t know,” the woman answered. “We don’t ask those kinds of questions. It isn’t our business, and we don’t really have enough of a business yet to have a ledger.”

Abel sighed and turned his attention to Tilieth. “I don’t think he’s waking up today, Til. Just try to get some sleep. I’ll keep watch.”

“Keep watch?” Tilieth repeated quietly as the pair chose a corner to settle in. “Honey, you need to sleep.”

The former knight shook his head. “This isn’t a shrine. It isn’t as safe. And honestly, as we unlock them, they’re going to attract attention and visitors.”

Which meant the shrines weren’t safe either once they were unlocked. At least not from people - it seemed monsters couldn’t breach them. Given the stablewoman’s fright over them, though, it was possible people would steer clear of them anyway.

Abel sighed, rubbing his face tiredly. This was getting increasingly more complicated. The sooner they got to Kakariko the better. Maybe he could feel safe there. Maybe they would be safe there.

Tilieth settled into an uneasy sleep, Link at her side, and Abel watched them rest.

“You can sleep too, you know,” the stableman piped in encouragingly with a smile. “I’ve got watch.”

Abel stared at the man, his gaze apparently intense enough to make the stablehand shrivel a little under his scrutiny. The man was certainly harmless enough, but Abel didn’t really deem him capable of protecting his family. He wouldn’t leave that in a farmer’s hands, whether he’d fought bokoblins off or not.

Rising, Abel decided to go for a patrol of the stable. His body fought him with every step, clashing priorities in his mind.

You should stay with them. Don’t let them out of your sight.

The farmer will keep watch of them. I’ll hear if something breaks out. I’ll see threats better if I’m outside rather than waiting for them to arrive.

You don’t want to see the fort. You don’t.

He really didn’t.

Fort Hateno had been a beacon of hope when the Calamity had struck. He’d sent his son there to regroup.

He’d promised Link he’d meet him there. Instead he found him in the woods, carried by two Sheikah warriors.

The world spun nauseatingly, and Abel leaned against a fractured wooden frame.

He didn’t have to see the fort. He didn’t need to see it. It was too dark to make out at this distance, anyway. He just needed to make sure nobody attacked the stable.

And it was a good thing too, because there was, in fact, a monster horde making camp nearby. He could see their distorted faces in the flames, though the bokoblins were settling in to sleep for the night. Gritting his teeth, he crept towards their lair, drawing his sword.

A horn blared. Abel looked up and saw a bokoblin on top of a husk of a guardian, blending into the darkness, and he swore.

There weren’t many enemies, honestly. Nine bokoblins was hardly a challenge. But it was the largest horde he’d seen so far, and his fights were far easier when he had armor, a sturdy shield, and hadn’t been running and climbing and carrying his son and being battered and bruised by a talus and a flying tree.

He really was getting too old for this.

Still. He’d killed far more than nine beasts at a time before the Calamity. This would be no different.

Abel snarled as the first bokoblin approached, and he slipped into the battle easily. With each bokoblin slain, he felt a little more like his old self, energized by the rush of adrenaline, the aches of the day burning away.

Nine was a little much when he didn’t have armor, though.

One bokoblin managed to scrape a hit, knocking the wind out of Abel as club met bone, and he rolled to get away from them, cornering himself against a stony wall. He rose quickly, but there were three beasts in front of him now, and his shield wasn’t in the shape it used to be. He saw it dent quickly under one blow, and after he felled two of the three, more took their place. He pushed his foot against the wall behind him, closing the distance as one of the ‘blins created an opening, and an arrow whizzed by his ear, making his veins fill with ice.

Where was the archer? Was it the same beast that had sounded the alarm? He couldn’t defend from the sky as well as the ground.

The bright full moon shifted, a silhouette cutting into its clear white hue, and he saw a bokoblin take aim. He readied his shield but had to parry another attack instead, and after shoving the remaining bokoblins away and creating some space, he looked up to see the bokoblin skewered on a spear, a thin feminine frame behind it.

Abel didn’t have time to consider the matter. He dispatched the last few bokoblins quickly and took a breath, feeling his ribs protest. He clenched his jaw to stifle a groan.

The Sheikah warrior from earlier easily landed beside him, settling her spear on a harness on her back. “You alright?”

“I’ve been worse,” Abel answered truthfully. This didn’t quite feel like a broken rib. Probably just bruised. But at least there would be no monster camp by the stable now. Belatedly, he tacked on, “Thanks for getting rid of the archer.”

The warrior gave a short nod in acknowledgement. She continued to look him over.

“I said I was fine,” Abel reiterated, growing tense under her gaze. He tried to shift the attention off himself. “Who are you, anyway?”

The warrior watched a moment longer and then looked away, debating something. Then she turned away from him. “My name is Sheik.”

With that, the warrior climbed the wall and leapt into a tree, disappearing. Abel watched her for a while longer and then finally gave up. Wherever she was going, he wouldn’t be able to follow anyway.

Sighing, he returned to the stable, slowly lowering himself to the ground to sit beside his sleeping family.

Just one more day. One more day and they’d be at Kakariko.

Chapter Text

It was a drizzly morning as Tilieth slowly opened her eyes. The moisture hung heavy in the air, bringing a little chill to the exposed tent. She pulled Link closer to her, burying her face in his hair, pushing off the start of the new day just a little longer. She missed the days she could just sleep in, but, well, those days had long since past. She hadn’t truly slept in since before the Calamity – occasionally her father had given her a morning of reprieve and would look after Lyra.

Ten years without the laughter of children, the warmth of home, the comfort of knowing everyone would come home at some point…

Tilieth pulled Link closer. He wiggled in her grip.

He wiggled in her grip.

Gasping, Tilieth opened her eyes, propping herself up on an elbow to look down at Link.

Abel was at her side in an instant. “What is it?”

Her answer was cut off by Link squirming some more, brow furrowed and eyes squeezed shut. He sniffled a little, and Tilieth saw a water droplet on his head. When she brushed it off, another plopped down from above, and she looked up to see that he’d somehow managed to be stuck under one of the few holes on this side of the canopy.

“Oh, honey, I’m sorry,” she whispered, pulling him away from where he’d been lying. Link sniffled again, eyes fluttering open.

“Link!” Abel nearly choked on their boy’s name, and both parents leaned over him. Link’s eyes, blue like his father’s, were dull, staring off at nothing, but open nonetheless. The pair acted quickly, coaxing him to drink a little water. Tilieth looked desperately for some food but had none readily available – she had planned on cooking once they got up and moving, of course she shouldn’t have tried to sleep in, this was her fault – and Link settled back to sleep fairly quickly.

Tilieth swallowed and chewed her lip uncertainly. This was a good sign, seeing her boy wake up. Why did she still have to feel so anxious about it?

He isn’t okay. He wakes up but he isn’t here, her mind supplied, and she hugged herself with a shudder. Then she shook her head. Here or not, at least we’re keeping him alive. The shrines are helping – he couldn’t even move a few days ago! He’ll get better.

“I’ll make some food,” Til said quietly, heading for the cooking pot outside. Abel offered to clean Link up by the river, and Til watched the pair go. She narrowed her eyes scrutinously as Abel seemed to stumble a little carrying their son – was he just tired? He’d said he would keep watch overnight. She really hoped he’d be okay. Maybe she should try to carry Link for the stretch to Kakariko. Her chest tightened uncertainly – she knew she couldn’t handle carrying their son that long, but… Abel was in no shape to do so.

She wondered how long it would take before Link could walk again. At the rate he was going… it was going to be a while.

Sighing, Til offered a quick prayer for strength and tried to focus on her cooking instead. As she did, her gaze wandered back to the dilapidated stable. She remembered the last time they’d had a trip as a family, and they’d stopped at the stable. Well, they’d stopped at the fort first – the soldiers had welcomed the family with cheer. It had been a very long time ago – they hadn’t been able to take a trip as a family but a handful of times, and the last one was shortly after Link had found the legendary Master Sword. Rumors had spread to the capital that a young knight had gotten the legendary sword, and though it took a year for them to reach the right ears, Link had been summoned to the castle.

Tilieth remembered the way her stomach had been doing somersaults, the way she’d been simultaneously excited and scared. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but it had felt like her worst nightmares being realized – when Link had first found the sword, she’d cried, and until the Calamity she had questioned why.

A cool breeze blew, sending a few sparks flying into the air from the little fire she’d created. She followed their whimsical trail, eyes resting on the fields beyond the stable. Lyra had been so excitable on the trip, she remembered. Fort Hateno had welcomed Abel and the soldiers all showed Lyra around while some challenged Link to duels and others joked around with him and teased his father. No one had really, truly believed Link had gotten the actual Master Sword.

No one except Tilieth, at least. She sometimes wondered if even Abel had believed it. But she could tell that sword was different, even if she didn’t claim to be an expert in swords.

As her eyes wandered, she realized something else – the fields had been teeming with wild horses. She could see none around now. Then again, the place was barely fit for any creature – patches of earth were barely growing anything. A tree was occasionally seen cutting into the scenery off in the distance, but for the most part, the only things that towered over the hills were pieces of fallen buildings.

The sound of a whirring gears and ticking weapons reverberated in her mind, making the hair on the back of her neck stand up, and Tilieth held herself as her entire body shivered.

They’re gone. It’s over.

Mostly.

Abel returned just as breakfast was ready, and he gingerly laid Link on the ground, clearly wincing. They both looked to be in some degree of pain.

“What’s wrong?” Tilieth immediately asked, worry filling her. “Abel, you should’ve rested last night—”

“I’m fine,” Abel waved her off.

Tilieth bit her lip, debating the matter. Abel often did this, where he would insist that everything was fine when it clearly wasn’t. Til often figured it was just his way of coping – if he said something was fine then it had to be fine. Tilieth didn’t see things that way—she could hardly hide when something bothered her, after all—but sometimes she let him play that game.

She decided this should be one of those times. Looking away, she rose, not wanting to watch him try to fight his way through his exhaustion. Maybe if he had some food he could get a nap in. “Breakfast is ready. Let me know if Link wakes up. I’ll just be around.”

“We should be heading out soon,” Abel insisted.

“You can eat, though,” Tilieth argued, not backing down. “I’ll eat when you’re done. Then we can head out.”

Abel watched her a moment longer and then sighed, clearly too tired to push the matter. With at least that battle won, Tilieth slowly dragged her feet elsewhere, looking at the tent. She really didn’t want memories to continue bombarding her, but any trip outside of Hateno had always been excited and burned into her mind’s eye, and seeing the stable had never been any different. Seeing it like this…

Tilieth glanced up as a sound caught her attention. It sounded like…

Wait a second…

Curious, Tilieth slowly started to climb a slanted wooden beam that had collapsed against a tree. Tattered remains of the tent still held stubbornly to it, linking it to the rest of the stable. She hissed as her hand brushed against a splinter, but her mind was busy with—

Ah, she did hear one! She saw leaves and magical sparkles dancing in a pattern above the stable. Determined on seeing this distraction through, Tilieth carefully crawled across the roof of the tent. The old horse head had long since fallen and rotted, but the tall beam that held it was still in place. She climbed it, eyes darting downward to Abel for a moment to see that he was eating his breakfast slowly, unaware she was high above him, and then she looked back at her prize.

The korok appeared as predicted, excited that she had made her way to it, and she received another seed. She wondered what these were for – Abel would be annoyed that they didn’t have a purpose, but Tilieth was eager to collect just about anything; she’d already caught a few crickets and butterflies as they’d progressed to this point, as well as herbs and mushrooms for ingredients.

And that rather helpful bandana. She hoped the shrines had more gifts that could help them. Perhaps they’d have something that might help them carry Link? Either way, it was fun and interesting.

Her new perch allowed her a nice view of the area, and Tilieth turned to look out at the fields, smiling. The fires from long ago had left the land scorched, but despite the damage, from up here she could see that nature was in fact taking hold once more.

Oh! Speaking of which—was that a horse in the distance?

Giggling in delight, Tilieth slid down to the ground, running to her husband. “Abel! Abel, the horses are still here!”

Abel glanced up at her tiredly, clearly confused. “What?”

“Ah, you saw a horse?” the stableman asked, approaching the pair. “Wild horses used to roam this area freely. They’re pretty rare now. Seeing one must be a blessing from the goddess for you!”

His daughter Uma, who had been at his side, brightened. “I saw horsies! I saw two of them!”

Their words finally seemed to register to her husband, whose eyebrows rose. “We could use some horses – that would help us a great deal.”

Tilieth laughed. “Yeah! Wait… so how do we get one? Do you…?”

She turned to look hesitantly at the stableman. Horses were kind of a given at stables, after all, but this one had none from what she could tell.

The stableman sheepishly rubbed the back of his head. “We’re a bit more of a shelter than a stable at the moment, I’m afraid. I don’t have any horses here. You’re the first one I’ve heard even seeing one in these parts.”

“We’ll have to catch it ourselves, then,” Abel muttered thoughtfully.

Tilieth looked at the fields beyond the stable. “How do we do that?”

“Oh, it’s very simple!” the stableman said with an excited clap of his hands. “All you have to do is sneak up on them from behind! My father-in-law used to talk about it all the time. I, uh, I’ve never caught a horse myself, but if that old man could do it, I bet anybody could!”

Tilieth’s gaze drifted over to the fields beyond the stable. She wasn’t sure how far off the horse she’d seen was – Blatchery Plain was too long a walk, she knew Abel would protest it.

“The best horses are always around the forest!”

She remembered the stableman years ago boasting about how their wild horses were better than anywhere else. But the talk of Hateno had always been the wild horses of Bubinga Forest. Every year people would come to watch them cross the river in the summer – their breeding ground was Hickaly Woods, and Tilieth remembered many a summer in her youth that she’d go with her mother to watch the horses swim.

It was… odd to think about now, that the horses were in the plain and swamp now. They never ventured into that territory before – it had all been inhabited by Hylians.

The shattered stone structures seemed to scream out to her, the husks of guardians mocking them, and Tilieth had to look away.

“Then I suppose I’ll have to find one,” Abel said, rising.

Tilieth opened her mouth to offer her support. She wouldn’t mind trying to catch a horse, even if her heart was racing at the thought of trying to tame a wild animal… not to mention going out into a field filled with half demolished guardians.

It wasn’t as if she hadn’t noticed their corpses. She just refused to acknowledge them. If people were rebuilding a stable, after all, then clearly they weren’t a threat. Of all the guardians on the plateau, only a couple were active. She imagined the likelihood was low that any others were around.

Besides, there couldn’t be too many – it was a misty morning, but she only saw a few out there.

Despite all this, though, she couldn’t get a sound out. Abel walked away with a gentle pat on her shoulder, and she practically wilted. Even with only three or four dead guardians, their presence was enough to silence her and make her hide by the stable with their son.

She wished she was braver.

Tilieth lowered herself to the ground, brushing Link’s hair absentmindedly as she glanced at the stableman. “Have you had to fight many monsters? Your wife was telling us last night that you knew how to fight.”

The stableman smiled tiredly, and Til remembered that he, too, had been on watch all night. “I can fight, yes. Thankfully there haven’t been too many monsters around these parts. We’ve picked them off over the years, you know. They just didn’t come back to the area. It’s pretty safe here.”

Tilieth remembered the monster camp they’d eliminated on the other side of the twin peaks and offered a feeble smile. Perhaps they hadn’t ventured too far, then. But it… it was so good to see people again.

The last time she’d seen other people…

The stableman walked away, leaving Tilieth to her thoughts as she held Link closely. Uma watched her curiously.

“Is he gonna get better?” the little girl asked.

Tilieth smiled weakly, tucking Link’s head under her chin. “Yes. Yes, he will.”

XXX

The cloak of night, the mist blanketing the field… from the stable they hid much.

Abel leaned heavily against a half collapsed column.

He’d come out here to find a horse. Instead, he found what had nearly killed his son.

This place was littered with guardians.

It had never really occurred to Abel that he had seen so little of the actual destruction of the Calamity. Hyrule had stationed guardians everywhere in preparation for the attack. They had handed themselves over to Ganon on a silver platter.

“Go to Fort Hateno, Link. We’ll rally the troops there and figure something out. I’ll meet you there, okay?”

Abel found himself wishing, not for the first time, that he’d died that day.

He had barely seen the destruction Ganon had wrought upon his land. He’d watched his capital burn, he’d watched the castle fall to pieces. He’d watched the fields of Hyrule be consumed by ash and smoke. He’d witnessed the Great Plateau’s destruction. He’d carried his broken son to the Shrine of Resurrection himself.

He thought he’d seen the worst of it. He was clearly wrong.

After all, something had to have been responsible for Link’s state.

Goddess. How many guardians were here? Had they all converged on Link and the princess? How had the princess gotten out alive?

A part of him felt a swell of pride that it took a veritable army to take Link down. A larger part of him felt disgusted that he’d led his boy into this mess in the first place.

I told him to come here. I told him I’d meet him here. Did he think I would come save him while all these guardians fought him?

Oh, goddess above, he wanted to die.

He heard a hoof slide across stone, and it tore him from the past and back to reality. A horse. He needed to catch a horse.

Focus, he snapped at himself, shaking his head.

Did they even have time for this nonsense? What good would—

Abel sighed. He knew a horse was important. They could travel faster, save their energy to better protect him and find shrines… getting a horse wasn’t just helpful, it was essential.

Following the sound, Abel peeked around a fallen guardian to see a single black mare, ears erect as it listened to its surroundings. Abel ducked behind the guardian quickly, hand sliding across the smooth surface as a single screw slipped out and landed on his foot. He kicked it irritably. He heard the horse run away.

Damn it.

Crouching low, Abel slithered around the guardian, disappearing in its shadow as he watched the horse rush around the side of a fallen building.

That used to be part of the mess hall.

Abel shook his head. Focus.

Creeping along, Abel followed the horse’s path until it calmed down. He hissed when his foot slid into mud and water, and he nearly face planted into the ground. The horse whinnied again in alarm and ran farther away.

Glaring up at the sky, Abel grumbled, “A little help here would be nice, thank you very much.”

He didn’t know why he bothered. Hylia was probably laughing at him. He didn’t even want to think about Hylia as he looked at all the guardians here.

Did she decide that after her Hero was killed it was finally time to grant her powers to her descendant? Did the princess—

Stop it, he snapped at himself, pausing. A sharp pain shot up from his chest, from his no doubt cracked ribs, and he gladly took the distraction as he gritted his teeth and resumed his hunt.

The mare had paused once more, grazing. She was just a hair’s breadth away. Abel moved slowly, careful of how she was occasionally glancing around. He paused when she perked up, nervous. Her front hoof moved hesitantly, and Abel felt his stomach drop.

No, no, no—

It was no use. Despite not moving at all, the horse ran again. Abel started swearing under his breath, wondering if this was even worth the venture – they could reach Kakariko on foot by dusk if they started moving soon, but if he spent the entire day tracking this blasted horse—

One more attempt. He’d do one more attempt.

Following the mare yet again, Abel crawled around a group of guardians that were surprisingly still nearly intact – he hadn’t seen them in such shape since—

Abel paused, blinking a few times. There was a clearing of earth, a few gauges of guardian claws still tearing into it, soil still too scorched to grow anything quite yet. The dirt was soft, though, as if it were on the precipice of yielding new life, but the most curious thing about it was that it already had things seemingly sprouting out of it.

Swords. There were swords here, stabbed into the ground purposefully.

Abel’s breath caught in his chest. Was… was this…?

No. He wouldn’t stop to think about it. He couldn’t. He had a horse to track. This wasn’t—he wouldn’t—

The blue garment. The sun kissed hair, painted golden brown like freshly baked bread, now soaked in red and brown and black and—

The still fingers. The still feet. The still body. The paleness, the redness, the black and blue and—

Abel couldn't breathe. The horse huffed in satisfaction as it started to graze again. Abel couldn’t breathe.

He swallowed. Bit his tongue until it bled. His chest clenched and ached, and he shook his head, blinking the tears away. He moved forward slowly, pointedly ignoring the swords placed in honor of—

The horse was just up ahead. Abel moved stiffly, but surprisingly the mare didn’t notice him this time. Probably because he was downhill a little ways. Which meant this next maneuver was going to be difficult.

Seeing a rock he could use, Abel took a deep breath and rushed the horse, leaping off the rock to help him get on her back. The mare neighed in protest, immediately bucking, and Abel latched on to her mane for dear life.

Now what?! His mind screamed. Abel locked his legs into the horse’s sides, beginning to get a headache from his head whipping back and forth. He hugged her neck tightly, whispering desperately for her to calm down, trying any reassurance he’d ever used on his noble steed in the past.

Thankfully, the horse finally tired herself out, allowing Abel a moment to just catch his breath. He sat up, guiding her as best he could towards the stable while she shook her head in protest. After several failed attempts to get moving, she started running, and Abel yelped, holding on yet again. This time, though, he fought her as well, giving stern words before patting her neck when she listened.

This could work.

Abel sighed in relief as the stable finally came into view. The mare fought him a few more times, but the more she did, the easier it got to quell her rebelliousness.

Tilieth ran up to him, her grin bright. “You got one!”

Abel gave a weak smile in return, completely drained. He managed to say, “Let me take her for a lap or two around the stable. Need to get her a bit more used to riding.”

Tilieth nodded, stepping back towards Link while the stablewoman who had guided them inside last night watched in awe. She spoke to Til, and the two women seemed to be very excited and pleased with the entire affair. Abel didn’t bother to spare them a glance, guiding his horse back and forth, letting her get the fight out of her. After a few laps, the mare seemed to have finally started to settle, and Abel slid off, relieved. He ruffled through his bag briefly, pulling out an apple he’d been carrying, and offered it to her.

“Oh! What a beautiful black horse,” the stablewoman commented. “She’s a Hickaly for sure, but they’re so rare nowadays! I thought all the horses had been lost.”

“Seems Ganon spared one, just for us,” Abel mumbled tiredly.

The stablewoman chuckled, patting the horse. “Hylia is good. What a relief.”

Abel didn’t comment.

The woman glanced at him. “What are you going to name her?”

Name…? He didn’t… that didn’t matter. Horse. He could name her horse.

Abel felt bad just thinking about it, though. He did love these animals, and his exhaustion didn’t merit being cruel to them. But he truly had no…

A name popped into his mind, and he smiled. “Ama.”

“Ah, what a pretty name! Do you like it, Ama? I think she’s taking a liking to it!”

Abel brushed beyond the small talk. “Do you have supplies for her?”

Here the stablewoman faltered. “Ah. Well. We… as you can see we’re still kind of building things back up. I… we do have a bridle, but I’m afraid that’s all I can offer.”

Abel stared. Processed the words. Sighed. “That’ll do.”

It was better than nothing.

As the stablewoman hurried into the tent, Abel guided Ama towards his family. When he was close enough, he whispered. “Are you ready to go?”

Tilieth nodded. “Everything’s packed. You should ride her – you’ve been awake all night.”

Abel immediately opened his mouth to protest. Tilieth and Link could ride her. He caught himself before the words could escape, though – he wasn’t sure Tilieth would be able to ride bareback. Abel himself could hardly do so.

Sighing in defeat, he said, “I’ll take Link and the supplies—”

“You know fully well that horse can’t carry two people and supplies. I can carry the bags.”

Again, Abel tried to argue and thought better of it. She wasn’t wrong, and he was quickly running out of energy to try and offer a rebuttal anyway. The stablewoman approached alongside her daughter, and she held out the bridle proudly. Abel took it, examining the material and ensuring it was still functional. Thankfully, that was the case. He slid it over the horse’s face and ears, settling it into place as the mare watched him hesitantly. The former knight hesitantly mounted the horse and led her around a little so she could grow accustomed to the new equipment before he took her back to Tilieth, satisfied.

It took a little finagling to get Link in front of Abel on Ama’s back, but once he was finally settled in place, the family was at last en route to Kakariko. They reached the bridge quickly, Abel grimacing at the state it was in, but Tilieth at least seemed in good spirits.

“Maybe once we talk to Impa we can find another horse,” Tilieth wondered aloud with a giggle. “Then we could ride together. Oh, how that would speed things up!”

Abel nodded in agreement. It would definitely make things much easier. His nodding continued until he nearly bopped his nose against Link’s scalp, making him jump and shake his head. He needed to wake up.

The morning progressed uneventfully, with Til dashing to and fro as they passed different herbs and plants. His wife chatted excitedly, speaking of how beautiful the landscape was, how the dew in the grass made the area glitter. Abel usually enjoyed listening to her take on the world, enjoyed dipping into her viewpoint a little to see everything anew, but he was honestly too tired. If he’d been more alert he’d realize this was the first time his wife had spoken this way since the Calamity.

And then Tilieth abruptly stopped.

Alarm sent adrenaline rushing through his veins, and Abel jerked up, jostling Link and stopping his horse. “What’s wrong?”

Tilieth was looking just beside a tree, out at the landscape beyond. Her head cocked to the side, eyes wide, brow furrowed. “Hello?”

Abel again looked at where Tilieth was staring.

“Yes, I can see you,” Tilieth continued.

Abel blinked. Then he blinked again. “Til?”

“No one has seen you since the Calamity?” Til continued.

“Tilieth, who the hell are you talking to?” Abel asked.

Tilieth turned, a baffled look on her face, and then she stopped just as she opened her mouth to speak. She looked back at the air in concern.

Abel looked at her in concern. “Til…?”

“It’s…” Tilieth started uncertainly before digging into her pouch. “Look. See these?”

Abel looked into her palm, seeing golden pebbles. Pebbles? No, he could see the wood grain. Golden seeds? He’d never seen such a material, but they shimmered like jewelry despite their earthy texture. “What are those?”

“These are korok seeds,” Tilieth explained. “I… I’ve been collecting them.”

“Korok? Like the forest spirits?” Abel questioned. “I thought the stories said they were in the Lost Woods.”

“They’re… everywhere, actu—oh?” Tilieth turned back to the air, and Abel went on alert again. Had she heard something?

“You have powers?” Tilieth yelped. “Can you—are you able to heal people at all?”

Abel squinted at where his wife was staring. Was he losing his mind? Had his exhaustion just made him blind to what she clearly could see? Had Til lost her mind?

“Tilieth,” he said slowly. “There’s nothing there.”

“No, you—Abel, there’s a korok here! A giant korok!” Tilieth said, waving at the space in front of her. “I don’t—I don’t think most people can see them, but—”

Her words were lost to him. Was his wife hallucinating? Abel had heard of koroks, their story was rather common, as were stories of their trickery. The Lost Woods had earned its name for a reason.

But if koroks were truly real, and existed outside of the woods… what were they doing here, and why could Tilieth see them? Abel’s hand steadily reached for his sword, anxiety creeping from his core to his fingertips. He felt his back clench up and his chest hurt.

“Wait, Abel,” Tilieth said hastily. “He says his maracas were stolen.”

Abel blinked. “His what.”

“Maracas. They’re—”

“I know what maracas are.”

“Oh. Well he says they’re—”

“What is his point?”

“He says he can’t use his powers without them.”

Abel felt his face scrunch in complete bemusement. “Til, do you have any idea how insane you sound right now?”

“Oh, just—just wait,” Til hushed him, turning back to the air. “But what can your powers do?”

“This is ridiculous, Til,” Abel snapped, growing frustrated. “There’s no way—”

“Abel, he can help us carry more items, including weapons!” Tilieth said with a gasp. “We just need to get his maracas!”

“And where, pray tell, are they?”

“Apparently some monsters stole them. They’re just up ahead.”

Abel stiffened. Monsters up ahead? “Take Link.”

Tilieth complied quickly, helping Link down from the mare. She settled on the ground, letting Link lean against her. Abel watched her a moment longer before guiding his steed ahead, blade drawn.

As he and Ama traipsed ahead, Tilieth glanced back at Hestu, massaging Link’s neck gently. The enormous korok watched her curiously, or, well, at least what she assumed was curiously based on how he tilted his head. She giggled – these magical creatures were like animals.

“Shalaka… he’s so sleepy!” the sprite pronounced, waving his arms.

Til looked down at Link with a gentle smile, kissing his head. “He’s very tired, yes.”

“My maracas will wake him up,” Hestu said thoughtfully. “Hmmmm… maybe I will wait to play them until you leave so he can sleep.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Tilieth assured him, though her smile faltered a little. “He’ll sleep right through it.”

She heard horse hooves approaching and looked uphill to see Abel returning with a completely baffled look on his face. When he stopped in front of her, he glanced at Hestu, squinting, clearly looking right through him. Tilieth honestly wasn’t sure why she could see the koroks, but it wasn’t surprising that Abel was having difficulty.

“But Mama, I swear they were there. We played in the forest and that’s when I found the sword.”

Tilieth paused, thinking about the words Link had told her years ago. She was distracted, though, when Abel slowly held up a pair of red maracas.

“SHALA-KALA! Those are…” Hestu exclaimed. “Those are my maracas! Please give them to meeee!”

When Abel made no motion to continue, Tilieth bobbed her head to the side. “Drop them here, hon.”

Her husband confusedly complied, tossing the maracas right at Hestu, who yelped and caught them before squealing in delight.

“Wait, there’s something wrong with my maracas!” Hestu noted, wiggling the instruments and hearing no sound. Then he wilted. “The korok seeds inside are gone! How am I supposed to dance now? Shoko…”

Tilieth smiled. “I have some seeds, remember? You saw them earlier.”

Hestu jumped with a gasp. “Shoko!!! You’re right!!”

Before Tilieth could comment, the large korok easily took a seed from her and popped it into one of his instruments, dancing with delight. Tilieth couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her, which only magnified at Abel’s absolutely flummoxed expression.

“Til…” he muttered.

“I promise it’ll help,” she said between giggles.

“Da-na-na-na-na-naaaaaaaaah!” Hestu pronounced as he threw his maracas into the air. “Now you can carry more weapons!”

Tilieth furrowed her brow. “Where’s the holder for it? Abel’s already got all the weapons he can carry.”

“Oh! It’s in your pouch, shalaka!” Hestu motioned towards the small pouch she carried on her hip. “You can carry all kinds of things in it now!”

“My—what?” Til stared at the tiny pouch on her hip.

“Til,” Abel cut in. “We should go.”

“Oh! Look at the time!” Hestu commented, also seeming to want to move things along. Though in his case, it was far more innocent than Abel’s impatience. “I need to get back before Grandpa yells at me. Shoko… Sorry, I have to go. But I still need korok seeds, so bring some to Korok Forest if you find any!”

Korok Forest? There was no way they were going there. Til smiled apologetically, but Abel turned Ama around hastily, reaching for Link, and she simply nodded along with Hestu’s request instead of arguing the point.

After helping get Link back on the horse, Til glanced at Abel questioningly while they walked. “So… you at least saw the maracas?”

Abel sighed heavily. “Yes. I… it is what it is. At least we won’t run into monsters on our way to the village now.”

Tilieth giggled as her husband shook his head. The poor man really did need to sleep – it was telling that he was just going along with this rather than continuing to question it. Though, to his credit, Abel was willing to accept the bizarre and otherworldly, he just usually needed some solid proof. She could only imagine how insane she must have looked back there, though.

As the day progressed, Tilieth’s amusement and excitement mixed in with anxiety. Abel was growing steadily more exhausted, and nearly he and Link toppled over at one point. If it weren’t for Ama’s whinnying it might not have startled him awake in time.

“We could always—” Tilieth tried to suggest before Abel cut her off.

“We’re almost there,” he slurred. “If we stop now we’ll have to camp. Link can’t afford a delay, and there’s no point.”

Abel’s stubbornness shone through as Tilieth tried multiple times to argue her point. By then it was midday, and she instead just silently handed him some food. Their surroundings steadily closed in on them as the hours passed, canyon walls on either side, trapping a sharp wind and sending it spiraling towards them.

And then the slate started to chirp.

Tilieth pulled it out curiously. “A shrine?”

“Well, there’s only one direction to go, and it’s guiding us forward.” Abel shrugged. “Let’s go.”

The pair picked up their pace, Ama trotting as Tilieth ran eagerly. Abel had clearly lost track of his wife and also lost all sense of worrying about it, too tired to put the pieces together. Tilieth was thankful for it – the sooner they got to the shrine the sooner she could convince him to rest.

As they progressed, a new sound added to the wind and the slate – it sounded like… wind chimes?

Tilieth gasped as Abel goaded Ama to a full gallop. He must have seen something she didn’t. She tore ahead and then nearly ran into the group as they slowed once more.

“Abel, what—”

“We’re here,” Abel said with a breath of relief.

Tilieth looked ahead, eyes wide with wonder. She’d never been to Kakariko Village before, but she’d heard tales of its people. The Sheikah were a fairly elusive group, only really seen by nobles and royals. She’d caught a glimpse of a few once when they were doing maintenance on the guardians near Hateno Village, but they’d hardly spoken to anyone.

The village was… beautiful. And, most notably, intact.

A woman approached them somewhat nervously, stiff and clutching her hat to her chest. She was about to say something when her gaze fell to the slate in Til’s hands. The anxiety in her posture melted away into wonder, and she asked, “That object… where did you get it?”

“Never mind that,” Abel said sharply. “We need to speak to Lady Impa.”

“P-please,” Tilieth added hastily, growing steadily more uncomfortable with the situation.

The woman hesitated, taking a small step back, before he looked at Abel and Link for a long moment. Tilieth wondered if the Sheikah woman recognized Link at all, even maybe Abel. Neither was exactly in any state to be recognizable – Link’s Champion attire was long gone, and in its stead he wore a slightly oversized off-white tunic supplied by Abel (Til hadn’t had a chance to make him anything, but maybe now that they were in a village that could change), as well as loose brown trousers and no shoes to speak of, whereas Abel’s usual royal guard attire had been swapped for a warm doublet and beige trousers and brown boots. Not to mention Abel’s hair had long since grown out from how he used to groom himself.

Ama stomped in place, sharing her rider’s impatience, and the woman finally said, “Her home is below, just under Lantern Falls. I… I must ask… are you the Hero that was promised? That the Sheikah have been awaiting for a decade?”

The woman was looking solely at Abel now, who probably looked the most likely to fit such a description, holding an injured young man steady while bearing weapons.

Tilieth wanted to laugh. Or scream. Or both.

Abel’s mouth became a thin line. “I’m not a Hero. Excuse us.”

Tilieth brushed by the woman quickly as Abel led the family along, and the sharp wind finally brought the rain it had been promising all evening. It was cold on Til’s skin, and she huddled closer to Ama. The rain made all of them pick up their pace until they had stopped at the bottom of the hill, just in front of a set of steps that led to the home in question.

Two guards stood in their way, both immediately taking a defensive stance. Abel positioned Ama to block Til from view.

“You there!” one of the guards cried. “Who are you?! How dare you trespass upon Lady Impa’s abode!”

The other guard’s mouth fell slack, and he slapped his companion on the arm with the back of his hand. “Wait—is—is that the Hero?”

The wind blew harshly, covering whatever response Abel might have had. Tilieth could only see from behind him as the wind whipped his hand around.

Both guards watched confusedly before relaxing. “Please, forgive us for behaving so rudely. Please step inside.”

It was strange, finally being here. Tilieth felt like she was in a trance, taking in all the scenery and none of it at the same time. She helped Abel get Link off their new horse, but Abel was clearly struggling. One of the guards graciously stepped in, reaching to carry Link, and Tilieth smiled in relief until Abel reached for his sword defensively.

“Abel,” Tilieth cut in, putting a hand on his shoulder. “They’re on our side. We’re supposed to come here for their help, remember?”

Her husband stayed frozen in place for what felt like an eternity. Slowly, his hand lowered to his side, though the glowering, threatening look he gave the guards remained. One of the men approached him hesitantly, waiting to see if he had permission to take Link, and Tilieth smiled welcomingly at him. Abel remained motionless as the guards and Tilieth got Link out of his harness, and one of the guards easily carried their son in his arms. The couple followed him up, Abel’s eyes fixed on him. The rain chilled Tilieth to the bone, and she could feel Abel shivering under her touch.

The guard leading the group opened the doors, and a wave of warmth overtook the group as the doors hastily slid shut behind them. Candles lit the dark room, and a woman was halfway up the stairs to the next level, paused and staring at them. She looked to be in her thirties, give or take, with a strong build and hardened face. Her eyes widened as she examined them.

One of the guards cleared his throat. “Lady Impa, we—”

“Link?” the woman half whispered. “How…?”

“The Shrine was damaged,” Abel immediately explained.

“We were told to come here for your help,” Tilieth advised, stepping forward. She felt odd speaking to such an important person, but Abel was quickly unraveling. “Um, Your Chief…ness.”

The woman bit the inside of her cheek, red eyes settling on Tilieth. “You can just call me Impa. But the Shrine… that’s another matter. Is Link… is he…?”

“He’s going to die if we don’t do something,” Abel said gravely.

“But the shrines have been helping,” Tilieth added. “We’ve already taken him to a few, he’s doing better than he was.”

Lady Impa turned to face them fully, slowly walking down the stairs. “Who… are you?”

Tilieth looked between the chief and her husband, confused. Hadn’t they met? Tilieth had come to the Great Plateau later, just before they’d finally reached the Shrine of Resurrection. Impa had not been there, only some guards and scientists, but this woman had been close to the princess – wouldn’t she have—

Til shook her head. She’d just been through this thought process. Abel was unrecognizable to those who knew him in the past.

And then she realized that the chief was looking at her.

“This is my wife, Tilieth,” Abel introduced. “The years may have changed me, but I imagine you know who I am all the same, Lady Impa. Surely you didn’t think I wouldn’t be here with Link the instant he was removed from the Shrine.”

Impa’s hard face softened, and she gave a small, curt nod with an assured smile. “Of course, Captain. But I… this… we should summon Robbie or Purah, but I’ve lost contact with them over the years. I have to admit, I… hadn’t expected to see Link anytime soon.”

Tilieth furrowed her brow. “How long did you expect it to take?”

Impa shifted uncomfortably. “Robbie had predicted fifty years.”

“Fifty?!” both parents exclaimed. They had been told it could take a long time – perhaps not even within their lifetime – but Tilieth had never realized that was the expectation.

“This is… not good,” Lady Impa muttered thoughtfully, her forehead creasing, pulling at the tattoo on her skin. Then she looked up at the parents once more, softening her gaze. “You two look terrible.”

Tilieth stared. She… didn’t know what to say to that.

“My men will take you to our inn,” Lady Impa instructed, nodding to her guards. “Link—”

“We’re not leaving him,” Abel growled.

“Link… will stay with you,” Lady Impa acquiesced. “I’ll have to summon the healer to look him over anyway, but… we know… wait! If the shrines are helpful, we have one nearby!”

Tilieth tapped the slate. “We know.”

Abel shifted, likely about to ask where it was, now fixating on helping Link as much as possible, when Tilieth squeezed his hand, catching his attention.

They were here. They were where they needed to be. They were safe and so was Link. “Abel. Let’s go to bed. We can go to the shrine in the morning. Link drank something, he’ll be okay for the day. He’s been riding all day too. Let him rest.”

If nothing else, insisting that Link needed sleep was enough to give Abel pause. Finally, the former knight lowered his head silently in defeat.

“My men can carry him to the inn with you,” Lady Impa supplied gently. “I’ll gather what information I can tonight. Rest, Captain. You two have gotten him here safely. We’ll help you from here.”

Tilieth gave a grateful nod to the woman as the guards guided them back outside. The rain was still bombarding the village, but its intensity had let up a little. Tilieth followed the guards and her husband, bringing up the rear of the caravan to make sure Abel and Link were both alright. Abel was likely to drop at the rate he was going, and Til wasn’t entirely sure she was equipped to catch him, but she was going to at least try.

As they moved ahead, Til took advantage of the view provided by their elevation. The village was nestled comfortably, and—

Oh! Tilieth stared at one of the rooftops, squinting a moment as she swore she saw a person.

She did. It was that Sheikah warrior from the stable. The young woman was crouched on a thatched roof, expression completely unreadable at such a distance, but clearing facing them. As they drew closer to the bottom of the stairs, the warrior slid over the back of the roof, disappearing from view.

That was… weird.

Tilieth stared towards the roof a moment longer before the guards directed them to the right where an inn awaited them. It was warm and dry inside, a welcome reprieve from their brief stint in the chilly night rain. Link was arranged on a bed first and then the guards ushered the innkeeper elsewhere to give the family privacy.

Sighing in relief, Tilieth collapsed onto the bed, nearly yelping at its softness. She hadn’t slept in a real bed since before the world had fallen apart. After all, the bed on the Great Plateau wasn’t much more than a wooden frame with blankets thrown on it to serve as cushioning.

Abel was already snoring beside her. Tilieth smiled at him and Link, pulling a blanket over all three of them as they huddled together, having dragged two beds together rather than letting Link rest alone.

The last tension in her shoulders that she hadn’t even realized she’d been carrying eased out of her, and Tilieth closed her eyes. Now that they were finally in Kakariko, things were going to get better. The Sheikah would surely know what to do.

Chapter Text

"Get her out of here. You can't win this fight. Not here, not like this. Go to Fort Hateno, Link. We'll rally the troops there and figure something out."  

The air was so filled with ash and smoke it practically choked him as Castle Town burned. The sound of distant guardian fire and people’s screams rang in his ears. His exhaustion was so prevalent he could sleep and never wake up right then and there. His heart was so broken he almost wished for death. But his determination was even stronger, his concern for Link and the princess paramount. Link’s worried expression cut into him far more than a guardian’s beam ever could. The boy’s eyes, filled with sorrow, glittered with something else at his words, though.

Abel was doing more than just giving an order, he was giving the boy hope. Link latched on to the words, his face growing stony with conviction. Abel pat his cheek lightly and gave what little bit of a smile that he could muster. "I'll meet you there, okay?"

His son watched him, his façade cracking a hair, his breath hitching for just a moment. Abel slid his hand behind his boy's head, pulling him close so their foreheads rested against each other, and they both closed their eyes for a moment. "Keep her safe. Do your duty, Link. Now, go."

T he moment was lost, and Link pulled away. He took a slow, deep, steadying breath, and then nodded. With renewed resolve, he turned quickly, rushing to Princess Zelda and grabbing her by the wrist, pulling her away from Abel, away from the castle, away from the city and the ruins and the disaster all around them. The princess followed helplessly, tears staining her cheeks as she turned back to look one last time at her home, her kingdom, before they vanished around a corner.

Abel awoke stiff and sore and disoriented. Images of Castle Town faded into the dust that was lazily floating in the sunlight. Everything was too soft and warm; it instantly made his insides squirm. It felt foreign and unsafe. Reaching forward, he found himself clawing at air where Link and Tilieth had been, and cold adrenaline shot through him like ice, making him nearly fall out of the bed in his haste to get up. His chest screamed in protest, and he doubled over, leaning on a small table for a second to catch his breath.

Kakariko. They made it to Kakariko. He’d nearly forgotten. But where was his family?

Abel quickly slid some boots on. Heading outside, he saw that the sun was fairly high in the sky, and his anxiety grew tenfold. How long had he been asleep? What had happened in that time?

“Captain Abel.”

Turning, Abel saw one of the Sheikah warriors from yesterday. Before he could get a word in, the warrior continued, “Your wife and the Champion are with Lady Impa in her residence. Would you like me to escort you?”

He didn’t need an escort. It was ten steps away from the inn. Abel shook his head, continuing on, all other courtesy forgotten. It was a somewhat chilly morning with the wind blowing, and it stung against his face. He hastily ran up the stairs and entered the abode.

Link was settled on a bunch of pillows on the floor, slumbering still. Tilieth sat at his head, hands tracing through his hair, gently brushing it while Lady Impa and someone unfamiliar knelt at his side facing toward the door.

Lady Impa glanced up, somber face pulling in surprise at hearing Abel’s entrance, and then she gave a tired smile. “Good morning, Captain. I hope you slept well.”

“What are you doing?” Abel asked.

“This is Kollin, our healer,” Lady Impa said, motioning to the man beside her. “I was speaking with your wife about the situation.”

Abel approached the group slowly, his heart finally slowing to a normal rate. Tilieth smiled up at him.

Staring down at Link, stripped nearly bare, let Abel look his wounds over as well. They didn’t seem much different than they had when they’d left the plateau, but somehow Link at least looked less pale. Also, the pressure wounds from his harness seemed a little better. Something had to be happening.

“His wounds are grievous indeed,” the healer commented as his eyes looked over the boy.

Princess Mipha could’ve healed him, his mind thought, and his heart tore a little at the words. The demure Zora princess had always been a kind, gentle soul. Abel had rarely seen her in battle, but it seemed particularly unfair that she had been dragged into the war and murdered in such a horrifying way. He didn’t know what specifically had happened in the Divine Beasts, but given how the guardians had been taken over and no support had arrived, he could guess well enough.

“Can you do anything?” Tilieth questioned hopefully.

“There are elixirs I could make,” the healer proposed. “He’d have to be awake to ingest them, though. Beyond that, it’s up to him. His wounds are wrapped and cleaned – I cannot change the natural healing process.”

“Your ancestors could,” Abel cut in, crossing his arms. “I’m more concerned about your technology than your healers, Lady Impa. The shrines are healing him. We need to know where they all are.”

Impa sighed. “The best solution would be to repair the Shrine of Resurrection. If it’s damaged… the best ones to fix it would be my sister or Robbie. But as I said yesterday, I haven’t been in contact with them since the Calamity. We were fighting our own war down here, too. The guardians came to Kakariko from the west. They completely destroyed Lakna Rokee Settlement and burned the hillside. We held them off, but… my mother was killed in the fight, and I became chief. I had to help rebuild the village. Purah stayed longer than Robbie, but even she left after a year.”

Abel chewed his tongue a little to hold back the bite in his tone before saying, “The Shrine is destroyed. Link will die before we can hunt anyone down, let alone before it can be repaired. I need to know where the smaller shrines are.”

The Sheikah chief furrowed her brow thoughtfully, her head tipping down to look at Link. The metal adornments of her hat jingled, filling the silence as Abel felt dread bubble in his chest.

“I… don’t know the location of all the shrines,” Lady Impa said slowly. “Not many were apparent before the Calamity. It seems more have appeared since then. I assume that was your doing, based on what Tilieth’s told me.”

Whatever help Abel had been expecting, it certainly wasn’t this. Why had the king even directed them here? The dread fizzled out, replaced by an ever-growing frustration.

“I can show you the one here,” the chief continued. “And I can try to map out the few I know of that Princess Zelda visited.”

“In the meantime, I’ll make some elixirs for Sir Link,” the healer said, rising. “And perhaps a few for you two as well, for your journey.”

Their journey. Their journey. Abel… had known, yes, that they would be on a journey to find the shrines for Link, but going to Kakariko had seemed a bit more of a main goal, an endpoint that would give them all the information they needed so they could start anew with everything in hand. It had at least promised some sort of guidance and assistance.

Tilieth smiled. “Thank you for your help.”

The former knight almost let out a bitter laugh. Help? What help? Pointing out one or two places we can try to reach in a land scorched by malice and crawling with enemies? Do we even know how many shrines there are?!

He was tempted to ask for at least a warrior escort to assist them, but at this point he didn’t trust them enough to even consider it. Besides, it might attract too much attention, assuming there were people with ill intentions wandering the countryside.

Such as…

“What of the Yiga?” Abel asked suddenly.

Lady Impa stared at him, a little baffled. “The Yiga? What of those traitors?”

“Have you heard anything about their movements?”

The chief shook her head. “No. The whole world was almost destroyed. For once, I think even they are just trying to survive. I hope they were wiped out, honestly.”

As do I. Abel sighed, nodding. “Let’s go to this shrine, then.”

With that, he helped Tilieth dress Link once more and carried him outside. Lady Impa led the group up the cliffs, which allowed for a beautiful view of a good portion of Hyrule. It didn’t boast the same vastness and scope as Tilieth’s favorite perch just outside the Shrine of Resurrection, but it did give Abel a moment of pause.

A moment to remember what it looked like before all this.

Abel had only been to Kakariko Village once before in his life, and it was when he’d been assigned as part of the royal guard that would accompany Princess Zelda to the village. This was before Link had been appointed her knight. She had been fairly young, fourteen or so. The village had seemed so much livelier then. It had also been more populated.

Bitterness swelled inside of him, the same old friend that seemed to accompany him on bad days. He swallowed hard, looking away. When Tilieth slid Link’s hand and the slate across the access pad, Abel walked first into the darkness of the shrine.

Having Lady Impa accompany them down into this new trial was at least different, though he wasn’t sure how helpful it would be. Not that he hadn’t seen the woman fight – Lady Impa was an impressive warrior. He just…

He didn’t trust anyone anymore, he supposed. And at this point, with as little as she could offer, he’d given up on relying on anyone else for assistance.

The voice that reverberated in the chamber spoke a different message this time, leaving the former knight on edge. “To you who sets foot in this shrine… I am Ta’loh Naeg. I share with you my knowledge, that it may please Hylia.”

“That’s… different,” Tilieth noted. “We don’t have to do anything?”

“You usually have to do something?” Lady Impa asked.

“Yes,” Abel answered slowly, lowering Link to the floor. Two chests flanked the entrance, and he hesitantly went to one. He was happily surprised to find a Sheikah blade in it.

Finally, some useful treasure.

“The trial, of course!” Lady Impa clapped her hands together. “Stories say that this shrine held an ancient trial for Sheikah warriors!”

“Maybe you should do it, then?” Tilieth suggested hesitantly, glancing at Abel.

Abel felt his hackles raise, but before he could protest, the chief nodded. Abel stepped forward, but Til put a hand to his chest, somehow managing to put pressure right where his ribs were bruised. He coughed and grimaced immediately, catching her attention.

“Are you hurt?” she asked quietly as Lady Impa walked by, unaware. “We need to talk to the healer.”

“I’m fine,” he snapped. “But I’ll let her do it. Since apparently I’m too feeble to handle a Sheikah trial now.”

“It’s their tradition,” Tilieth argued hesitantly, expression worried. “And it gives us a break. She’s on our side too, Abel, remember?”

Abel sighed heavily.

As Lady Impa approached the center of the room, the gap in the floor was filled with a rising arena and miniature guardian awaiting her. Abel and Tilieth, despite their aversion to the mechanical beasts, were growing accustomed to the sight in these trials.

He supposed they should have warned the chief about it.

Lady Impa gasped, going rigid, before she charged ahead, slashing viciously at the guardian. Abel squinted, noticing that this one was designed differently from the others, and it did nothing to defend itself. The monk’s voice spoke again, giving fighting instructions.

It’s not a duel, it’s a lesson. Of course. He did say he was trying to impart knowledge.

It was a very basic lesson, though. Lady Impa picked up on it quickly, realizing her attacks were futile but the enemy wasn’t retaliating. She followed the instructions, one by one, until she destroyed the small foe. This time, when it shattered, its blade remained intact, piquing Abel’s curiosity.

After all, such a blade could be useful.

Abel collected the blade while Tilieth collected something from the other chest, plopping it into her pouch.

“We won’t have room to carry all your trinkets, you know,” Abel remarked dully.

Tilieth only smiled and winked.

Abel was the last to reach the final room as he had to pick Link back up, but Lady Impa’s surprised squeal was enough indication that the other two had made it to the monk.

“H-he’s… this is… different,” Impa said, clearly disturbed at the sight of the decomposed Sheikah monk.

“This is normal,” Tilieth explained. “So far, all the shrines have a monk in them at the end. They give Link a Spirit Orb. Watch.”

The monk spoke of a hero rising from the ashes of Hyrule before granting the orb. Link twitched a little, as if when the orb shattered was akin to being splashed with a big raindrop. Abel rested his forehead against the boy’s cheek in reassurance, though he doubted Link could feel it. With that, the group was transported outside, Lady Impa shaking from head to foot.

“What just—?” she tried to question, looking around wildly.

“The shrine kicks you out when you’re done,” Abel quipped, stepping into the grass. “Let’s go. The healer should be ready by now, I imagine.”

“Kollin’s elixirs take some time to m-make,” Lady Impa explained shakily, still getting used to the sensation of being teleported. “B-but—but I imagine he’ll be done by evening.”

Evening?! They were going to lose an entire day? This was absurd. Abel could see another shrine down in the valley from here. He wasn’t going to wait.

“That’s all right,” Tilieth said cheerfully. “I can cook some meals with the ingredients I gathered. Best to have supplies ready for… well, for everything.”

Abel garnered some satisfaction in the way his wife’s voice faltered, and he wasn’t entirely sure why. Maybe it was because she was entirely too chipper about this whole mess. Why wasn’t she as upset as he was, why did she think this was fine? She’d said herself that the Sheikah would be able to—

To what? To fix this issue? What sort of naivete had led Abel to think anyone could fix anything at this point?

Get yourself together, he snapped at himself. They still had an objective; the situation wasn’t entirely hopeless.

He supposed he… had expected more help than this. If the king had mentioned Lady Impa would guide them, then he’d, well…

He’d expected the king to be true to his word. But he wasn’t. And it wasn’t the first time.

The bitterness swelled, roaring like a foul beast, and Abel swallowed hard again, biting his tongue.

Lady Impa and Tilieth were babbling now, speaking of shrines and monks, and Abel found himself too weary to care. He walked down the path back to the village with Link resting comfortably on his back before turning right and heading towards the view of the valley once more. At least here he could enjoy some silence.

The trail led to a large collection of stones, Sheikah names inscribed on them, with one towering above the rest.

A memorial for the Sheikah lost in the Calamity.

Crickets chirped and birds sang, their voices carried in the wind, echoing in the silence of Abel’s mind as words were hard to find at the moment. He remembered the bodies of the Sheikah warriors he’d buried on the Great Plateau, the two who remained to help him defend the Shrine of Resurrection from the guardians who had invaded the sacred place. He remembered Castle Town burning along with the rest of Central Hyrule.

He recalled Link, broken and bloodied nearly beyond recognition.

The smell of ash and smoke filled his nostrils, and his throat tightened. He looked to his right and saw Hyrule once more, its landscape a patchy mixture of green and scorched brown and black. The orange glow of two shrines stood out amidst the scars of the land, and energy filled the former captain of the royal guard.

Marching back into the village, Abel saw Tilieth alone now, standing in the center of town. She smiled brightly when she saw him. “Abel, there you are! Come here, let me hold Link, I want to pray.”

“We don’t have time for that,” Abel said dismissively.

“You need to be more patient,” his wife giggled, seemingly unbothered by this entire day. “It’ll be fast. Besides, you need to eat! I made some breakfast for you, if you want some.”

He couldn’t argue the latter issue as his stomach growled, and so he slowly let Tilieth take their son in exchange for a small meal. He finished it within a couple bites, returning his attention to his family to see Til sitting on the ground in front of the goddess statue, Link’s head in her lap.

The image struck him for some reason. It wasn’t as if Til hadn’t prayed to Hylia many times over the years. Abel himself used to pray to her fairly often. Every once in a while his heart stirred enough to try again when they were on the plateau. But now…

Now it seemed like a giant divine joke.

Princess Zelda was supposedly a descendant of Hylia, an inheritor of the divine power to seal away the darkness. Yet she couldn’t activate it in time.

Link was Hylia’s precious chosen hero, destined to fight the darkness and prevail. Yet she didn’t support him when the time came.

Abel had prayed time and again for his family’s safety. Yet his daughter was dead, his son close to it, and the one thing that could have saved him had been destroyed.

And now… now when he’d finally thought Hylia had shown them a path when things seemed the bleakest… Lady Impa had little to nothing to give.

“We need to leave,” he said curtly, eyes darkening.

“Oh, Abel,” Tilieth huffed, a little exasperated.

And that was what did it.

The bitterness and pain swirling in his gut returned with a searing passion, and fire spilled form his mouth. “Don’t talk to me in such a patronizing tone like I’m the child between the two of us. I’m the one who has been trying to keep everyone alive. I’m not the fool who runs about giggling like this is a game. I don’t place hope in false goddesses who only seem to take pleasure in torturing us, and I'm not as idiotic as you’re choosing to be! How can you just sit there and be fine with all of this? Do you even care about Link?! Why do I have to be the one to push to move forward, to—to—”

Words became increasingly difficult, choked out in a rage that was steadily growing along with his tone of voice. The area grew unnaturally quiet as Tilieth seemed to shrivel under his shadow.

His wife watched him, eyes wide, face stricken, tears steadily spilling, cheeks flushed. “You think—what makes you think I don’t—Abel—”

“Don’t even argue with me about it, it’s true!” Abel continued, even though his mind and heart had taken a distinct change in tone. It was as if he couldn’t stop himself anymore, like he knew what he was doing was wrong, but it was already happening and it was akin to a boulder making its way down a mountain. “You pray and you pray, and you speak to the winds, and you place hope in people who have no right to it, and you act as if everything is fine when it’s not!!”

He couldn’t bear to be in this village any longer, couldn’t bear to continue this conversation any longer, couldn’t bear to see Tilieth look so hurt, couldn’t bear to feel so hurt. He turned sharply on his heel, finding Ama grazing lazily and mounting her before tearing out of the area entirely.

The rain began anew, pelting against his face, making him shiver and ache, but he pushed Ama to run all the harder. His surroundings blurred as he steadily grew soaked, his steed couldn’t run fast enough, his heart couldn’t beat hard enough, the rain wasn’t loud enough, he wasn’t angry enough, nothing was enough—

The rain stopped, bringing forth sunlight, startling him into focus just in time to realize where his horse had taken him.

Blatchery Plain.

Abel’s breathing sped up until it started to hitch, one hiccup after another. He shakily slid off Ama and walked amidst the carnage, his body trembling from head to toe.

The guardians stood all around, frozen in that final moment in time, a testament to the princess’ divine power.

All Abel could see was how much it must have hurt. How terrifying it must have been. How much Link must have been hoping Abel would arrive as promised and save him.

Hyperventilating gave way to sobs, and Abel collapsed onto his hands and knees.

Goddess above, what he wouldn’t give to get Link and Lyra back, what he wouldn’t give to prevent the Calamity from ever happening, what he wouldn’t give to never feel like this again.

Why? Why?!

Abel cried until he had no tears left, until it hurt to breathe let alone weep, until he felt so utterly drained he might as well have been awake for a month. Something soft and warm nuzzled him, neighing and grunting softly, and he blindly reached up to stroke Ama’s face. The horse pushed against him again and Abel leaned into it, wrapping both arms around her neck as he tried to get some control over himself. The horse, despite being tamed only recently, was surprisingly patient in the hold, and it gave Abel the grounding he needed to finally regulate his breathing.

When he stood, he huffed out a wet, tired chuckle, petting the horse’s neck. “Thank you, girl.”

The horse huffed, bobbing and headbutting him gently in the chest, and Abel suddenly realized that this was not, in fact, Ama.

Ama was a black mare, with hair that was dark like the night sky. While this steed had charcoal hair, it was longer, with a dark chestnut coat save for white around its hooves.

There was a small scar on its front left shoulder, distinctly patterned, a downward circular slice as if a curved blade had tried to cut it.

Curved like a Yiga sickle. The only curved blade Abel was really familiar with.

Abel blinked. Stared at the scar, the familiar scar on the familiar horse.

“Epona…?” he breathed, looking up into the horse’s brown eyes.

The mare’s ears perked forward and she whinnied softly, tail flicking in acknowledgement. Ama roamed behind her, grazing.

Hylia above, it… it was Epona. This was Link’s horse.

How had…? Abel shook his head. He wasn’t going to question it.

And with that thought, shame immediately filled him. Because he… had questioned everything. Again and again and again. More than that, though, he knew without a doubt that he’d hurt Tilieth.

Abel glanced at the sky. He… couldn’t say thank you, but he would at least temper the bitter thoughts in his mind. Maybe this was actually a good sign, after all.

He didn’t dare hope, but…

“It’s good to see you again, girl,” he finally settled for saying. Epona bumped her head against him once more. “Let’s get you to your rider.”

XXX

Tilieth sat on the ground alone.

When soft footsteps approached her, she didn’t bother to look up and acknowledge them.

“Tilieth…?”

The voice belonged to Impa.

Tilieth just stared at Link, hands tangled in his hair, breaths shaky but regular.

“I, uh…” Impa continued somewhat awkwardly. “I’m sorry.”

Sorry? What was she sorry for? This wasn’t her fault. None of it was any of their faults.

Til wished Abel would just understand that.

Her heart ached and burned. She felt so unbelievably alone in that moment, despite the comfort the Sheikah chief was trying to offer. Tilieth had always been surrounded by love and support her entire life until the Calamity, and then all she’d had was her husband.

And now even he was leaving her.

That’s not true and you know it, she reminded herself, despite tears beginning to spill out of her eyes, despite the way her breath started to hitch.

Why couldn’t Abel understand? Tilieth had been terrified to leave the Plateau, and yet he was upset at her for trying to find joy and hope wherever they went? Why couldn’t he just—why did he have to be—

Tilieth cried, leaning over her son.

“Look, I—I don’t know you, but,” Impa stumbled over her words clumsily, hand resting comfortingly on Til’s back. “But I can see how much you love Link, how much you want to help him. I… I know he’ll be in good hands since he’s with you.”

Tilieth wished she could thank her for her kindness, but words never came to her in these moments. She often hated that, hated that she had passed it on to Link.

Link’s silence leading up to the Calamity had been twofold and Tilieth had known it. Sure, he’d been stoic and calm just like his father, but underneath she could see the anxiety. Abel was quiet in his worries, too, but he’d take them out through anger and work. Link did that too, but also, like Til, he just shut down.

It didn’t make a difference now, she supposed, but she wished dearly she knew how to stop it. Impa at least deserved acknowledgement.

But Tilieth was so tired. She was so tired of having to hunt for hope and light, of having to be the one to bring it to everyone else. Why couldn’t others find joy in the world too and share it with her? Why did Abel have to be the way he was?

Why did any of this have to be the way it was? Why couldn’t Link just wake up, why couldn’t Lyra just be alive, why couldn’t her father be here to help her still?

“Why… why don’t we just go back to my home?” Impa offered. “Or—or the inn?”

Tilieth really just wanted a hug from her loved ones, honestly, but the kindness Impa was offering still warmed her heart. She nodded, sniffling, and let Impa pick up her son.

“Huh. I never expected Link to be so light,” Impa muttered, staring at him. “I mean, he’s so muscular and all. Or, well…”

He had been, yes. Before he’d started fading away into death’s embrace after the Shrine had been damaged. His muscles were still there, but much smaller, and he’d definitely started to lose weight.

Tilieth burst into tears anew.

“O-oh—uh, it’s okay!” Impa hastily said. “I—I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

Impa sighed as Tilieth tried to control herself.

“I… I really am sorry,” Impa repeated, her voice much less frantic now. “Link’s my friend. I hate seeing him like this too. But… but I do mean what I said. I know you care about him and that he’s in good hands. It makes me feel better to know you’re taking care of him.”

“Y-you…” Tilieth tried to push the words out of her tight throat, rubbing her face to wipe the tears away. “You two were friends?”

“Yeah!” Impa eagerly answered, nodding. “We traveled a little bit together. One time I dared Link to eat a whole roast pig at one of the feasts people provided for the princess and he did it! Another time while we were traveling, he let me put flowers in his hair to cheer up the princess.”

The image of Link with flowers in his hair made Tilieth giggle. She tried to latch on to the idea, to the sweetness of the memory, the gentle love in the gesture, rather than the thought that she would never see such a scene. Her gaze returned to the statue of Hylia.

Oh, Hylia. I… I’m sorry to ask, but please… just… help us. I know you’ve been looking out for us, and I apologize to ask for more, but…

The breeze changed directions, blowing the scent of flowers towards her, and Tilieth sighed, her tears steadily drying.

Link coughed in Impa’s hold, startling both women.

“Guess some pollen got in his nose,” Impa offered feebly with a small laugh. “Let’s get to the inn.”

Tilieth sighed, following the chief. When they entered she watched Impa gently lay Link on one of the beds.

“Kollin will be able to help with the elixirs,” Impa said reassuringly with a smile. “He’s an excellent healer, I promise. He patched me up after the Calamity.”

Tilieth nodded, sitting on the bed. Impa watched her a while longer and then wrung her hands a little nervously.

“Is there… is there anything else I can do?” Impa offered. “I’m sorry I can’t do more.”

“It’s okay,” Tilieth said, finding her voice once more. “I don’t… please don’t take Abel’s anger to heart. He…”

He what? She didn’t really know. Abel had a horrible habit of not expressing himself well, far worse than Tilieth when her emotions got the best of her. Her issue was that she couldn’t control her emotions when they overwhelmed her, while he refused to even acknowledge them.

She supposed some of this was her fault, then. She hadn’t checked in with him. But she’d…

Frustration bubbled within her. She naturally tried to take care of others, her intuition helped her break through to Abel at the start of their acquaintance and extended their relationship beyond friendship. But didn’t she deserve something in return?

Of course you do, and you’ve gotten that, she reminded herself, her chest tightening, her eyes watering once more. She couldn’t even begin to count the nights she’d spent sobbing in Abel’s arms when they’d first settled on the Great Plateau. She couldn’t recall how many times he’d told her it would be all right, that Link was safe now, that he would protect her and their son.

She hated this. She hated needing the comfort and not giving it back when she usually did. She hated that Abel was so upset and wouldn’t reach out, that she had to be the one to initiate it when she too was hurting. She hated that she’d let Abel be her stability when she hadn’t done the same for him. She hated that she had done the same and it wasn’t enough. She hated this entire situation.

She just wished things could go back to the way they were. She’d take the status quo on the Great Plateau over this.

But she couldn’t go back, and she knew that. So she had to find hope where she could. Because she couldn’t live without hope; she refused to.

Abel seemed to view her hope as some kind of weakness, as a childish thing, but her desire for it and her seeking and clinging it took more energy and strength than anything in her life.

Impa had apparently excused herself at some point, as Tilieth suddenly found the room mostly empty. The innkeeper was pointedly keeping herself busy with cleaning the other side of the building.

Tilieth sat on the bed alone.

The door to the inn opened, but she didn’t pay it much mind. Instead, she turned her attention to Link. When was the last time he’d awakened? Ah, that’s right, he’d had a few sips of water yesterday in the morning. He really hadn’t eaten much of anything at all the entire time he’d been out of the Shrine—the first time he’d woken up they’d had some broth ready, but he’d only had a sip or two—and it was beginning to worry her. She could see how his hair was dry and damaged, his lips cracked, how his skin pulled more easily than it should have. He was dehydrated and undernourished, and she couldn’t do anything about it. Link’s waking moments were so rare and unpredictable, it left her anxious just thinking about it. How would they even get elixirs in him?

“Why are you here?”

Tilieth jumped, startled, and looked up to see the warrior they’d met at the Dueling Peaks Stable. The young woman watched her with piercing eyes that held an intensity to them, reminding her strikingly of Link and Abel, though the girl’s were brown instead of the boys’ cerulean blue.

“I—Lady Impa suggested it,” Tilieth answered uncertainly.

“Why are you in Kakariko?” the warrior clarified, her tone unchanging from its monotone, interrogative manner.

“W-we…” Til glanced at Link, and fear ate at her heart all of a sudden. Kakariko Village was a refuge, but this warrior felt nearly belligerent all of a sudden. She tried to think if she’d done something offensive, or if the warrior had given some kind of sign of mal intent back at the stable, but all she’d done was show some kind of possible surprise at seeing them before abruptly leaving.

Wait. She probably recognized Link. All the Sheikah knew of the Hero, after all. They probably all knew he was supposed to be in the Shrine of Resurrection, too. Perhaps Impa hadn’t told everyone.

Did that mean she wasn’t supposed to tell everyone? They were walking around with Link in broad daylight. That seemed unlikely. She supposed this warrior hadn’t figured it out yet, then.

“The Shrine was broken,” Tilieth explained. “We came here for help.”

The warrior crossed her arms. “You won’t get much help here. Sheikah keep to themselves.”

Tilieth watched her hesitantly, curiosity bubbling in her. This young woman wore Sheikah clothes but clearly was a Hylian. It was a little confusing. Instead of letting her curiosity get the best of her, though, she asked, “Where should we go, then?”

The Sheikah warrior paused as if to consider, gaze drifting over to Link, and her eyes softened. “Nearly all of Hyrule is destroyed. But I heard that one tribe was least affected due to their location. You should go to the Gerudo Desert.”

“The Gerudo Desert?” That was so far from here!

“They have strong warriors,” the woman continued, staring at Til once more. “There are no major Hylian towns anymore. They’re all gone. Zora’s Domain is hostile, Death Mountain inaccessible, and no one has heard anything from the Rito. But I know for a fact the Gerudo were mostly unscathed. If I were looking for sanctuary for my son to heal, I’d go there.”

“You think the Sheikah wouldn’t let us stay here to rest?” Tilieth questioned carefully, not really believing such a statement but wondering why this woman seemed to think so.

“They’ll let you stay all you like,” the warrior replied. “But they won’t lift a finger for you outside of this village. If rest is all he needs, then by all means, let him stay.”

“You know the Sheikah went to the Great Plateau with him,” Tilieth informed her, a little bemused. “They helped seal him away so he could heal, they fought guardians to protect him.”

“And they died,” the warrior said coldly. “Alongside many other Sheikah.”

“Alongside everyone,” Tilieth corrected quietly, looking at the ground.

“Not everyone,” the warrior suddenly snapped, making Tilieth shoot a startled look at her. The warrior glared for a moment longer before looking away. “Not everyone. But they don’t care about that anymore. They did their search and rescue, they picked up what pieces they could, and then they just hunkered down and stopped caring about the rest of the world.”

“You… sound like you don’t like them,” Tilieth noted hesitantly.

“They’re my family,” the warrior replied with a strange dull heaviness to her tone. “That doesn’t mean I don’t disagree with their thinking. What is it you need for your son?”

“He… needs Spirit Orbs. We can collect them from the shrines. Do you… do you know where more shrines are? Like the one up on the hill? They’re the only thing that can heal him.”

“I’ve seen those shrines everywhere lately,” the warrior answered. “But they weren’t there before. Hopefully they don’t move before he can get to them.”

Well, at least Tilieth knew that wasn’t going to happen. They didn’t move, they were just unearthed by Abel and the slate.

The warrior shifted, growing less stern and asking in a softer tone, “Does… does he ever wake up?”

Tilieth smiled sadly. “Once every day or so. If we’re lucky we can make sure he drinks something. But it’s… not…”

Not enough.

The warrior slowly made her way to the other side of the bed, staring at Link. Tilieth watched her keenly, wondering where this sudden gentleness came from. The woman seemed to be a swinging pendulum, one moment harsh and the next kind. She looked so young – Tilieth wondered if this behavior was simply the product of growing up in such a world. She couldn’t have been more than twenty. Tilieth remembered her own life at that age and it was… vastly different.

“What’s your name?” Tilieth asked quietly.

The warrior didn’t acknowledge her for a moment, still watching Link, before she closed her eyes with a shuddering breath. “Sheik.”

It was certainly a curious name. Tilieth wondered if the girl herself had chosen it, as a Hylian being raised by the Sheikah tribe.

Sheik reached down slowly, hesitantly, her hand setting on Link’s shoulder. Tilieth grew a little tense but didn’t stop her.

Link’s eyes opened.

Sheik and Tilieth both jumped, caught off guard, and Sheik retracted her hand as if she’d been burned. Tilieth didn’t bother acknowledging it, instead scrambling for her bag to get some food in him. She requested hastily, “Can you get the healer, please? This might be the only chance we get to give him elixirs!”

Sheik nodded after a moment’s hesitation, rushing outside. Tilieth managed to sit Link up a little and got him to have some stew, and she was surprised at how long he stayed awake and how he actually even managed to try and chew some of the food, though it had all been pureed for him to drink.

He… he hadn’t done that before.

“Link…?” Tilieth tried hesitantly, hopefully.

Her son stared off at nothing, and she sighed.

The door burst open, making Til nearly jump out of her skin and spilling the rest of the food on the blanket. Impa and the healer, Kollin, were there in an instant.

“He’s awake?!” Impa said breathlessly.

“It won’t last long,” Tilieth explained quickly. “Please, the elixir—”

“Right here,” Kollin cut in, offering a half-filled bottle. “I didn’t have time to make everything, but it’s something.”

Tilieth nearly yanked the bottle out of his hands, turning back just to see that Link had fallen back asleep.

She could practically feel the chill in the room as everyone’s hope and urgency shattered. She blinked rapidly against the tears that sprang up, lowering Link to the pillow and fiddling anxiously with the bottle.

Sheik approached silently, staring at Link, and then kicked the bed frame, jostling him.

“What are you—” Til almost snapped when Link startled awake once more.

He—he was awake again?

Wait, what? He never woke more than once in a day!

“The elixir, hurry!” Impa insisted, waving a hand. Sheik sat Link up, directing his head towards Tilieth. He clearly didn’t really notice the jostling, but he was still awake.

Tilieth hastily uncorked the bottle before slowing her movements so she wouldn’t make him choke on it. Link drank tiredly, clearly running out of stamina, but he got half the contents in before starting to cough and forcing her to pull away.

“You need more Spirit Orbs,” Sheik muttered.

“So that’s… that’s how he’s been?” Impa asked.

Tilieth nodded, lowering the elixir bottle to her lap.

Everyone watched Link a moment before Kollin piped up. “Why don’t you take a break? Sir Link drank some elixir, let him rest.”

Sheik glanced back at the healer before lowering Link to the pillow once more.

“Well…” Impa started uncertainly before catching Til’s attention and smiling. “I was going to work on a plum garden I wanted to plant. Maybe you can help me?”

Tilieth stared at her, dumbfounded. The thought of letting Link out of her sight when Abel wasn’t around was incomprehensible, if not ridiculous. But they were in Kakariko Village. They were safe.

Link’s safe.

“I… yes,” she said slowly, as if such a thing were novel, as if gardening hadn’t been a necessity she’d handled on the Plateau.

But it was different. She wasn’t alone. She wasn’t alone. She was helping someone else garden, she was helping create something in a village full of people. There was an entire community here. A safe community, where Link could rest without worry of danger, where Tilieth could just be with others and enjoy herself and work on a project for the sake of working on a project and not because her family would starve to death without her efforts.

A smile slowly spread across her face, and she spoke with more conviction. “Yes. I can help.”

Despite the overcast nature of the day, Tilieth couldn’t feel warmer and more comforted as she went outside and dug her hands through the soil. They were nearly finished with the garden when a Sheikah rushed over to say someone was in labor, and Kollin and Impa had gone to assist. Tilieth completed the project, wiping the dirt from her hands, and decided to wander the village a bit, basking in its simple beauty, relishing the fact that, for the first time in a decade, she felt like she was a part of a community once more.

Some exploring yielded excitement that not only brought her joy but also grounded her back in her current situation. A korok was hiding amidst a few little statues, gifting her a seed and an armful of apples. A woman was seeking to rebuild her clothing boutique – though there were no visitors to Kakariko, she still wished to make clothes for others, and she assisted Tilieth in working with a half-finished garment to make a tunic for Link. It was colorful and beautiful, resembling a traveler’s attire from Hateno. Tilieth’s heart ached at the sight of it, but she was also satisfied with it. At least now Link had clothes that would fit him properly, and perhaps even keep him a little warmer. The leather belts and pauldron would also lend some protection.

The village was getting together to celebrate the birth of a baby girl by the evening, and Tilieth went to check on Link, when she heard the sound of a horse galloping and neighing.

Tilieth stiffened, knowing who it had to be. She had managed to get to the inn before Abel’s return, so it might buy some time as he looked for her. She wasn’t entirely sure she really needed it. She’d calmed significantly since his outburst. But…

She still didn’t want to deal with this. Not now. She was having a good day. Link was having a good day. And…

The door slid open. Feet shuffled inside.

The room was uncomfortably quiet. The innkeeper shifted awkwardly before exiting the building entirely, joining the festivities elsewhere.

“I’m sorry,” Abel started softly, simply. “I… what I said was… I know you care about Link. I know you love him more than anything. I’m sorry.”

The wound in Tilieth’s heart wanted her to push back, to argue, but it was a small wound, steadily shrinking in size.

This wasn’t the first time this had happened, though it had been a good while. Abel would be fine, fine, fine until he suddenly wasn’t. There were ques, but Til had missed them, as she herself had been dealing with everything too. She remembered, years ago, before the Calamity, when Abel had apologized for an outburst, and she’d actually been able to ask him why he acted in such a manner.

I… it’s my responsibility to take care of you, of our children, of the royal family. I suppose sometimes… I’m not as strong as I need to be. And it bothers me.

There was more to it than that, she was sure, and despite how much she had tried to reassure him… well. The Calamity had happened.

Tilieth sighed.

“It’s okay,” she said quietly.

“No. It isn’t.” Abel argued.

Tilieth felt her chest tighten. Why did her husband always have to be so aggressive anyway? She was trying to let the subject go.

Abel walked towards her, and she sighed tiredly, wondering if he would turn this into another fight. He hesitated a moment before sitting on the bed with her, hand moving to her face and directing her chin to look at him.

“You’re doing everything you can to help Link. You’ve gone through more than anyone should have to and you’re… you’re still trying to find the good in the situation, still trying to be optimistic. It certainly does more good than… you’re strong and wonderful, Til. I’m sorry.”

Til’s throat tightened up once more, and she couldn’t push words out, so instead she leaned in to her husband, who held her gently. She promised to tell him how wonderful he was later, when she was able. But for now, she let herself relax in the safe embrace, crying and holding him in return.

The moment was interrupted when Abel stiffened abruptly. “Til—Til get the food, Link’s awake—”

Tilieth’s eyes opened quickly, and she stared at their son. Link was indeed awake again, though not focusing on anything in particular. She swallowed hard, heart racing, and choked out, “Honey, he—he ate earlier, and drank some elixir, he’s—he’s waking up more—”

“He what?” Abel gasped, releasing her and reaching towards Link. “Link? Link, can you hear me?”

“I… I don’t know if he can,” Til explained uncertainly. “But he is more arousable. Sheik woke him up too.”

“Sheik?” Abel repeated, glancing at her. “The warrior from before?”

Til stared at him. “Wait, you—you spoke with her too?”

“Back at the stable,” Abel answered dismissively. “She… well, she saved me from an archer.”

Til stood, adrenaline spiking. “So you did get into a fight! I knew you were hurt! Abel, why didn’t you tell me?”

Abel turned to her sharply but caught himself and sighed instead. “I didn’t want to slow us down.”

Til grabbed the remainder of the elixir she’d tried to give to Link and held it out to her husband. He wordlessly took it and drank. The relief on his face was instantly apparent, and he relaxed his posture, seeming to sink more into the bed. Then he shifted his focus back to Link, but the boy was asleep once more.

“He’s been doing that,” Tilieth noted. “That’s the third time he’s woken up today.”

“The third time?” Abel repeated, surprised.

Tilieth smiled, running a hand over her husband’s head, gently untangling knots in his hair. “Yes. He’s getting better, Abel. It… it will be all right.”

Abel leaned in to the touch, resting his hands on her hips and pulling her back to him. Til sat beside him, letting him bury his head in her shoulder as she held him. Then excitement bubbled within her, triggered by Link’s awakening and the end of the tension between the couple.

Til pulled away gently but steadily, catching Abel’s attention, and she smiled at him cheerfully. “I made Link clothes. I haven’t had time to cook much, but I can make some dinner for us for the journey, and—the village is celebrating the birth of a baby, so we should enjoy that too!”

Abel watched her a moment, blinking and registering what she’d said, and he chuckled breathily. “Well, I mapped out more on the slate, and marked a few shrines. And… I found another horse. Or, well, she found me.”

“Another—you—the map—you went to a tower?”

“Yes, but—but come look, Til,” Abel insisted, rising and taking her by the hand.

The pair went outside, though they stopped at the entrance to the inn as Abel didn’t want to leave Link unattended for long. He whistled briefly, and Til saw Ama trot over, alongside—

“Epona!” she gasped. “That’s Epona!”

Epona nickered, ears perked forward, and she covered the extra distance to the couple while Ama huffed a small distance from the inn. Link’s horse paused at the stairs to the inn and cautiously put a hoof on a wooden step, eager to reach the pair. Tilieth laughed, clear and light and echoing in the air, and she ran down to meet the steed, hugging her neck. Epona swished her tail, turning her head a little so it nuzzled the back of Til’s, and she felt her heart soar.

“How did you find her?” she asked, not letting go.

“I didn’t,” Abel answered from the inn’s doorway. “I told you, she found me.”

“Oh, honey,” Til cooed into the mare’s mane. “You survived.” Then she burst away, even more energized, and looked at Abel in delight. “Hon, this is—we should celebrate! I can’t believe—this is so wonderful!”

Abel’s smile was warm and, dare she say it, hopeful, and he nodded. There was no way she wasn’t dragging him to the village’s festivities now. The discussion with Sheik, plans for their trip, talk of Gerudo Town, even cooking provisions could wait until later. She just wanted to bask in this joy now, her first feeling of freedom and joy, her hope strengthened and revitalized and rewarded.

They were going to be alright.

Chapter Text

It was another rainy morning as Tilieth helplessly stared at an untouchable fire pit. The wood was too damp, no shelter was available (why didn’t they have a little sheltered cooking area like they had in Hateno?), and so she was left wandering the village. Her feet took her to Lady Impa’s doorstep, though she hesitated to enter. However, curiosity got the best of her, and she slid into the large residence.

The main level was empty, the only sound filling the air being the pitter patter of rain hitting the roof far above. She wandered around the room, noticing a mural, and gazed at it.

A beast stood in the center, flanked by two figures and surrounded by…

Guardians.

This mural was depicting the Calamity?

“That is the Great Calamity of ten thousand years ago.”

Tilieth jumped, startled, and turned to see Lady Impa standing on the stairs leading to the upper level. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“It’s okay,” Impa answered easily, making her way to the main level. “I’m glad you were able to join the festivities last night. I saw Captain Abel there as well.”

A silent question hung in the air, and Til smiled. “He’s doing better. I just… was going to cook, but the rain stopped that.”

Lady Impa nodded and then glanced over at the mural that had caught Til’s attention. “Tilieth. I… have a favor to ask.”

Tilieth watched her curiously. “What is it?”

“If Link… when Link wakes up, properly wakes up… please… return here. I want to see him again, and… and I have a message for him. From the princess.”

The princess? Princess Zelda? “Is… is it true, then? That she’s…?”

“Holding the Calamity at bay?” Impa answered for her, glancing at her out of the corner of her eye, her expression sad and worried. “Yes. She is. And she risked her life to come to Kakariko, to make plans with me, to give me a message to remember for Link.”

Tilieth suddenly felt incredibly heavy and overwhelmed, as if the ceiling were crashing down on her. She’d spent so much time fighting to just keep her son alive that she hadn’t even considered the bigger picture, that he—that he—

She could hardly think that far ahead, to a time where Link was actually lucid and ready to fight again. Not that she doubted it was possible, but just—there was so much they had to do first. She’d travel the world, brave any monster for her son, but his preordained duty—to save all of Hyrule, to fight a monster of legend with a sacred princess—it just…

Impa was so grave. The reality of the destiny on Link’s shoulders smacked Tilieth in the face. His survival in the Shrine of Resurrection had little to do with his destiny in Tilieth’s mind, but Hyrule very much was relying on him, as was its princess.

Princess Zelda. Her fate didn’t feel real most days – the deactivation of the guardians had been more akin to a miracle, a mercy of the goddess, a simple flick of the princess’ wrist, rather than an indication that she was actively fighting a demon more powerful than entire armies. The castle looked too peaceful for such a thought.

Lady Impa looked at the mural a while longer, lost in thought, before sighing and turning to face Tilieth fully. “I think Kollin should have more elixirs ready. I’ll get a map and mark out the locations of shrines that I know the princess has been to. That’s… the best I can do. Maybe… maybe you could visit my sister; she might have more information for you.”

“You said you didn’t know where she was,” Tilieth noted.

The Sheikah chief shrugged with a sheepish smile. “I… don’t. But… well, there used to be a lab near the Akkala Citadel. It’s a bit far, but it’s a start. I imagine the royal research grounds were completely destroyed, since they were right by the castle, so that’s the best option.”

The citadel? The Akkala Citadel was one of the largest strongholds in all of Hyrule… or at least it had been. Tilieth wasn’t sure what state it would be in now. She wondered if Abel knew; she’d never really asked him about what he’d seen or heard during the Calamity.

“What do you know about the Gerudo?” Tilieth asked, thinking of her conversation with Sheik yesterday.

“The Gerudo?” Impa repeated, a little bemused. “They’re excellent warriors. The Champion Urbosa was their chief. They live out in the desert. I haven’t really ventured out of Kakariko that much, but those who have report that their people and capital was mostly left unscathed. I think some of their other outskirts villages were destroyed, though. Why?”

“One of your warriors suggested it,” Til answered simply. “She seemed to think it was a good place to go.”

“The desert isn’t exactly hospitable,” Lady Impa warned. “I don’t know what one of my people was trying to say in suggesting you go there.”

“She seemed…” Tilieth paused, wondering if she should note that Sheik had mentioned the Sheikah wouldn’t help them outside the village. “She thought maybe the Gerudo could help us find shrines, I guess.”

“They’re not… unkind,” Lady Impa said carefully as she looked away in thought. “People nowadays aren’t exactly helpful anymore. They’re all out to protect themselves, and most don’t leave whatever sanctuary they’re in. At least in that regard, the Gerudo aren’t afraid to leave their walls, I just… am not sure they’d care to. But they…”

Lady Impa trailed off, her words hanging in the air, trapped in the moisture filling the home. Then she sighed. “I suppose there would be shrines out that way too. And probably fewer people on the road causing trouble. The Gerudo would definitely keep the desert safer than most of Hyrule.”

“So a safer place to explore for shrines,” Tilieth surmised.

Impa shrugged again, a little helplessly. “It could be a place to go once you find all the marked ones, at least. Like I said, the desert isn’t exactly hospitable. But there wouldn’t be as much of a threat from people or monsters there, I suppose. The Gerudo would handle that.”

“Thank you,” Tilieth said sincerely, bowing her head. “I’ll go check on Link and Abel.”

“I’ll have the supplies and map ready for you when you return,” Lady Impa replied with a more curt nod, the metalwork on her hat clinking. “Bring the Sheikah slate and I’ll mark the locations on your map.”

Tilieth blinked. “You can do that?”

“Yes,” Lady Impa nodded with a smile. “I’ll show you more tricks, though Purah knew far more about the slate than me.”

Tilieth thanked her again before stepping outside. Abel and Link were exactly where she’d left them, huddled against each other under multiple blankets, sound asleep. It was a rare thing when she outslept her husband, but it seemed to be happening more often, which only showed how exhausted he was. Til wondered if it was worth staying one more day to rest, but neither Link nor Abel would tolerate it. Still, she wouldn’t wake them any earlier than she had to.

The rain subsided, allowing her to cook multiple meals, ranging from omelets for her and her husband to broths for Link. She packed as much food as was feasible—korok magic could store it but not preserve it, after all—and then finally headed to the northern part of the village where the shrine was located. During the party last night, Tilieth had heard several Sheikah mention that the mother had to be taken to the guardian spirit’s sacred water for a ritual cleansing and healing, and Tilieth had been wondering why Lady Impa had not suggested this place for Link. Perhaps it was simply because he wasn’t Sheikah, or it was actually because it was, in fact, purely ritual. Either way, Til wanted to investigate.

It didn’t take long to hike her way to the shrine, and she walked beyond it, though she hesitated as the cliffsides closed in, blocking the village from view. A glowing iridescent blue creature hopped about in the brush, catching her eye and making her jump, but she clearly startled the creature far more than it had startled her, and it scurried away with frantic leaps.

Wait, glowing blue and resembling a—that was a blupee! She’d heard of those in stories!

Giggling in excitement, Tilieth ran ahead before the sound of an animal crying out in pain made her freeze in place. She looked around frantically to see nothing, and crept carefully ahead, heart racing, before relaxing at the familiar sight of Sheikah armor. It was the young woman, Sheik, bow and arrow at the ready, clearly hunting.

“Good morning,” Tilieth greeted.

Sheik stiffened and glanced at her out of the corner of her eye before resuming her vigil. Tilieth bit her lip, looking around instead, eyes fixating on a large, strange looking plant. It was surrounded by water, which glowed with a pink hue as fairies flew about it.

This had to be what the others were talking about. The water was a little shallow, far too shallow for a proper bath, but perhaps she could bottle some for Link. Or even bottle some fairies, if such a thing was allowed.

She remembered the brother and sister from the road, and how they had created some kind of fairy tonic. She shuddered at the thought of cooking such creatures. But…

It just felt wrong. She couldn’t.

Just as she thought that, Sheik quickly reappeared in her line of sight, delicately but hastily trapping a fairy in a bottle.

“Are… you going to eat it?” she asked hesitantly.

“What?” Sheik stared at her, and though the majority of her face was hidden by a black cloth, her crinkled eyebrows and wide eyes portrayed her nearly horrified confusion well enough. “No. Fairies escape from their bottles to heal you if you’re grievously wounded.”

Tilieth felt her heart skip a beat. “They can—"

“Oh my goddess, you haven’t tried that?” Sheik asked, her voice rising. “Holy shit. How can you –you never—oh my goddess. Take the damn fairy.”

She tossed the bottle towards Tilieth, who yelped and caught it after it bounced in her grip for a moment. When she looked up to ask the warrior, Sheik had vanished.

Surely—surely a fairy wasn’t going to fix all this, was it? If that were the case, why hadn’t they tried that ten years ago?!

Tilieth wasn’t taking her chances. She rushed down the hill back to the inn, hastening inside where her boys were still sleeping. Uncorking the bottle, she held it over Link, waiting for something to happen.

The fairy lazily slid out, flying erratically as if it were dizzy, before hovering over both Abel and Link. It sank lower towards them before dropping to Link’s waist and circling around it several times. Then it zipped out of the inn.

Tilieth stared, confused. What had…? Gently, she pulled the blanket down to look at Link’s hip, peeking under his light shirt and trousers, and remembered that his skin was getting rubbed raw by the harness. It looked pink and healthy now.

Well… that was… better than nothing? Though hadn’t the elixir fixed that? She’d bathed Link last night and remembered noting that. Had the fairy even done anything?

Til’s eyes drifted just left of Link’s hip, where Abel’s hand rested from when he’d shifted earlier.

His hands had been blistered last night. They were clear now.

Tilieth groaned. That fairy had—why in the world would it—

Maybe it was best to just have them in a bottle rather than make demands of them. Maybe that was why they hadn’t tried this a decade ago.

Sighing heavily, Til turned and then squealed as Abel’s hand snaked around her wrist. He was sitting up straight in the bed in a heartbeat, eyes wide and disoriented, before he recognized her and let out a breath, falling back on the pillows.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, hand covering his eyes. “You alright?”

“Yes,” Tilieth answered quickly, her heart racing. “Just startled.”

Her husband slurred another apology, and she couldn’t help but worry more. He seemed exhausted. “Hon… why don’t we stay another day? Just so you can rest up.”

“Time isn’t exactly working for us, Til,” Abel pointed out, rubbing his face and sitting up. “Link may awaken more easily but his wounds will not get better without help.”

“But… how much help does he need? What if time is what he needs?” Tilieth tried. “We can wake him up more easily to feed him now – that was the main issue before.”

“He doesn’t stay awake for long.”

“No one does when they’re this injured or ill,” Tilieth agreed. “But most people also don’t utilize Sheikah technology to heal themselves, they just rest and have medicine. Lady Impa has more elixirs prepared for us. Maybe we should just stay here.”

“Til,” Abel said slowly. “I… the king mentioned something. And I… we don’t have time, Til. Whether Link can heal naturally at this point or not, we don’t have time.”

Tilieth swallowed, feeling cold fear and dread fill her. “What… what did the king say?”

Her husband shifted in the bed, his gaze dropping to Link. He seemed reluctant to respond, as if telling Til would be too much for her to handle, but at this point the suspense alone was killing her.

“Tell me,” she insisted.

“He mentioned… retaliation. From Ganon’s forces.”

Tilieth’s voice and peace of mind were stolen away in an instant. Kakariko suddenly felt unsafe, as if the entire world were hunting for her boy. She could feel her breath quickening as she looked at Link.

“This village may be safe, but it isn’t going to help him heal faster,” Abel finally continued, eyes hardening as he looked back at his wife. “I don’t know how much time we have.”

This all led back to Ganon, to the princess, to the war going on in the castle that Tilieth never really thought about. Reality truly was crashing in on her, a world so much bigger than she could ever comprehend calling her son’s name, the goddesses themselves pushing him towards a destiny far greater than she could ever imagine.

She didn’t know what to do.

No. No, wait. She… she did. She knew what to do.

“We need to go,” she said quietly, swallowing hard to push past the mental block that was trapping her voice in her throat.

Abel nodded. “What we need to figure out is—”

“No,” Tilieth shook her head, interrupting him. “I—I know where we need to go. What we need to do. Lady Impa—Lady Impa is going to mark points on the slate where some shrines are. Beyond that…”

“It’s open exploration,” Abel finished, his expression tightening.

“Yes, but—” Til swallowed again, heart racing. “But listen. I have an… I have an idea.”

He wasn’t going to like it. He was going to hate it. She wasn’t particularly fond of it either. But it appeared in her mind clear as day, and that had to be a sign from the goddess if there ever was one.

Abel watched her silently, waiting for her to continue.

“I spoke with some of the Sheikah,” Tilieth started slowly, trying to choose her words carefully. “They made a few suggestions about what to do next. Lady Impa has shrines marked on our map. You—you can do that, you know. Mark things on the map. I’ll have to check on it more, because apparently there are lots of things the slate can do, and I need to see what the slate can—”

“Til,” Abel interrupted mildly. “Focus.”

“Right,” she chuckled nervously. “Right. So we have those shrines. But there were other suggestions too. Lady Impa said the research lab in Akkala might have some valuable information for the slate; that her sister might be there, and possibly shrines as well.”

“Akkala?” Abel repeated, blinking a few times and considering it. “That’s quite the distance…”

“We have horses for it,” Tilieth offered. “But that’s not… that’s not all I was going to say. The Sheikah also suggested Gerudo Town.”

Abel’s face immediately twisted in confusion, as well as hardening a little. “Why?”

“We… don’t know much of the world anymore,” Tilieth said. “But from what I was told, the Gerudo are the few who managed to get out of the Calamity pretty unharmed. The Sheikah don’t leave the village because of the damage and the danger in the area, but… supposedly the desert is safer than here.”

“Til,” Abel said slowly. “Gerudo Desert and the Akkala Research Lab are on opposite sides of Hyrule.”

“Yes, which is a lot of distance to cover,” Tilieth nodded.

Abel stared at her a moment, and he seemed to be catching on. “Absolutely not.”

“Abel, you don’t even know what I—”

“You want to split up.” He snapped, rising to his feet. “Are you out of your mind? You just said we barely know the state of Hyrule anymore, those strangers we met on the bridge are a testament to how dangerous it is, and there are monsters prowling everywhere! You will not travel alone.”

“But the desert is safer!” Tilieth argued.

“You have to get to the desert first!”

“Yes! Yes, I do!” Tilieth continued, confusing her husband, and so she elaborated. “We all will go to the desert. From there, I can find shrines with Link while you go to Akkala and learn more about how we can better deal with this situation. Link still gets healing and we can cover more ground. All you have to do is escort us there and then we’ll be fine.”

As she considered the time crunch Abel had mentioned, she amended, “Or—or perhaps the Sheikah can escort me and Link instead so you can go straight to—”

“No,” Abel immediately said.

“Abel—”

“No one is escorting you except me,” he firmly stated. “I don’t trust the Sheikah that much.”

Tilieth blinked, bemused. “Wha—why?”

Abel sighed, looking away. She supposed she knew the reason. He just didn’t trust anyone anymore, and, more notably, he didn’t want to let them out of his sight.

But he would have to. There was no way they could wander all of Hyrule aimlessly in search of shrines. There had to be a better way. At least with what she was proposing she could explore and he could have an objective with tangible results – both would be doing things that suited them best and Link would be getting help. And it was efficient. This should make perfect sense to Abel, as efficiency and delegation were second nature to him.

But that had been before the Calamity.

“Honey, just—just consider it, okay?” she pleaded.

“We don’t have time—”

“Consider it while we go to the shrines Lady Impa mentioned,” she pushed. “Please.”

Abel found he didn’t have a counterargument to that, and he sighed. The couple ate breakfast in silence and in haste. Lady Impa came and brought more elixirs, and when Tilieth gave her the slate she marked the shrine locations on the map. She also showed them how to drop markers and utilize the slate as a telescope of sorts.

“If we use the travel gates, do our horses travel with us?” Abel asked as they packed for their journey.

Lady Impa frowned, considering it. “I… honestly don’t know, actually. Purah and Robbie had only just started messing with the travel gate function when everything… fell apart.”

The pair glanced at each other a little nervously before thanking her for everything.

“May the goddess Hylia watch over you,” Lady Impa bade with a bow. “I’ll be praying for your safe journey. I hope to see you soon, and with Link in better health.”

With everything packed and the village waving goodbye, the two went to their horses, who were munching cheerily on carrots gifted by one of the children, a little boy named Steen. Abel determined that Epona, approaching the senior side of horse years, should have the lightest load, so Tilieth rode on her while Abel and Link were together on Ama. Abel still stared in confusion as Til giggled and packed their belongings in her small pouch, winking at Steen as he gawked in wonder.

And then it was time to set out.

The safety of the mountains gave their last hug as they exited the village and entered an open field. Tilieth glanced down at the slate to see the two markers were close by. She used the scope function Impa had just shown her, and she could make out the ruins of the Sheikah settlement that had been destroyed in the Calamity. The area was a little scorched, but grass had started to grow in large swathes, bringing hope and renewal of the land. Til could smell flowers in the air, and she smiled at it.

Leading the way, Til guided Epona to trot down the large hill. When they reached the foothills, there was a swampy area to the right, and Til could clearly make out both a shrine and, even farther in the distance, a tower. Abel came up alongside her and the two cautiously proceeded, though it wasn’t long until Abel spotted monsters. Til carefully nocked an arrow, dismounting alongside her husband. Link was placed against a tree while Til guarded him, and Abel quickly rode Ama into battle. Til felt secure watching her husband easily eliminate the lizalfos that sparsely populated the area, and she sighed in relief when he seemed to kill the last one.

“Let’s hurry,” he remarked as he returned. “If we can knock both these shrines out before sunset, we can beat any more monsters.”

“Should we try to use the travel gates to go back to the village?” Tilieth asked.

“Forget the village, we could go home.” Abel replied. “But that’s only if the horses can come with us. They’ll be killed or lost otherwise.”

“I suppose there’s only one way to find out,” Tilieth offered, holding up the slate.

“Later,” Abel dismissed. “We need to finish these shrines.”

The first shrine was fairly simple, using a large metal bowl to scoop glowing orbs into matching receptacles. Though the second pool of water and receptacle proved a little challenging (Abel had paced the entirety of the shrine at least eight times by the time Til finally got it right), the pair still managed to get through. With the spirit orb retrieved (and Til finding another chest, which actually held a decently made blade, much to Abel’s relief), the couple set out to their next destination. The monsters were a little less populous as they raced across; a quick swing of Abel’s sword eliminated the few threats in their way.

The second shrine required a bit more work to get to. They would have to swim across a river to even reach it. Tilieth glanced at the old village ruins they passed, wondering if it had been part of the Sheikah settlement or was something separate. More ruins were closer to the shrine, some garrison according to Abel. Thankfully the place was deserted.

Til activated the cryonis rune, creating an ice bridge they could cross. “Have you considered my plan from earlier?”

Abel tightened straps on the harness as he hesitantly climbed the ice columns. “A little. I still don’t like it.”

“But you can’t say it’s bad.”

“I don’t want us to separate,” Abel shook his head. “I don’t understand why you do.”

“Because you said so yourself – we don’t have time, and we were told to go to opposite ends of the country!” Tilieth explained emphatically before squealing as she slid on the ice. Abel reached out to her, but she slid on her backside right into his legs, causing him to flop on to his belly to protect Link, and both parents lazily slid to the opposite end of the bridge.

Tilieth groaned, rubbing her back as she rose. “That’s one way to do it… are you okay, honey?”

Abel stayed motionless a second, face down, palms pressed against the ice as he tried to either get his bearings or prevent himself from blowing up.

“Sorry,” Tilieth added guiltily.

“It’s fine,” her husband muttered, rising.

The shrine was surrounded by brier and thorns, which Abel easily burnt away with the use of flint and steel. Tilieth almost laughed at it.

“You are a little too eager to set things on fire, dear,” she noted.

Abel grew stony faced, making his wife confused, until she remembered that the hinox on the plateau had been enraged because Abel had set a good portion of its territory on fire.

Oh. Oh, goddess. He… he didn’t… surely he didn’t blame himself for this. For all of it.

“Honey,” Tilieth started slowly, reaching a hand out to him.

Abel pulled away, heading for the shrine. “Let’s not waste time.”

Tilieth sighed heavily, following her husband. She let herself get distracted as she looked at the fraying edges of his green doublet, idly noting that she would have to fix it or make him something new entirely. Perhaps she could get materials to make a tunic that matched the one she had crafted for Link. She was glad the Sheikah had helped with the leather work so the boy could have some protection.

The next shrine was far larger than the first one, and it took them a moment to ascertain the situation. There was a beam of light—or something more solid than it—that was controlled by a rotating lever. When the light hit a crystal, the place filled with water.

Tilieth pulled out the slate with a smile. That hadn’t been so hard. “We can just walk across like outside.”

They discovered the dilemma once they reached the other side. The switch to open the door leading to the monk was completely submerged.

“So we need the water down to activate the switch,” Tilieth surmised.

“And the water up to get to it,” Abel finished. “One of us can stay here to activate the switch with Link. I’ll go back across to control the water.”

“Honey, don’t go swimming in your clothes, that water is cold,” Tilieth advised worriedly.

Abel glanced at her a moment, somewhat exasperated, and then sighed. He stripped down to his underwear, and Tilieth noticed with some concern that his shoulders were raw from the straps on the harness, just as it had been rubbing at Link’s skin as well. The scars that finely layered his back were not new to her, but she smoothed her hand over them nonetheless, catching his attention.

“I’ll be alright, Til,” Abel said mildly, leaning over to kiss her briefly. “I’m a better swimmer than you.”

“All that time in the Domain,” Tilieth smiled.

“Just get ready,” Abel dismissed, jumping into the water. Tilieth watched him move swiftly, and she held the slate at the ready as she glanced at Link, who Abel had left resting beside her. She sat on her knees, leaning down to kiss him on the nose and poke him. Link sniffled a little, eyes fluttering and making her smile.

“Hey baby,” she whispered in greeting. “Go back to sleep, love. You can eat once we get out of the shrine.”

She heard the sound of the crystal activating, and the water began to drain. The switch was exposed, and Tilieth quickly used the slate to carry a metal barrel and drop it overtop. The door to the monk’s chamber opened, and Tilieth called cheerily, “It worked, Abel!”

Although she couldn’t hear the husky reply from her husband, she could tell it was a relieved one. Carefully, she attached the harness to herself and braced as she stood. Link’s added weight made her stumble the first few steps, but she could handle it. It was far easier than when she had to carry him up some stairs, at least.

I’m going to have to get used to this, she realized. If I’m alone with Link in the desert…

Her heart clenched a moment, fear making her freeze. She wouldn’t be alone. The Gerudo were there. It was going to be fine. This was her idea, after all. It had to be fine, right? Why else would the goddess make her think of it?

Slowly, she trudged towards the monk, letting Link’s hand touch the barrier. After receiving the Spirit Orb, Tilieth let the monk transport her and Link outside. Abel appeared with them, and Tilieth recognized their gap in logic very quickly.

“Your clothes!” she laughed.

Abel glanced down, cheeks flushing a moment, and then he groaned. “Great. I’ll go get them.”

“No, no,” Tilieth insisted with a little smile. “Please, you can just… keep going like this.”

Abel shot her an exasperated look, but he shuffled over to her nonetheless. “You can enjoy that later, love.”

Her husband leaned forward, and Tilieth tried to gently cup his face with her hands, but instead he pinched her nose, making her yelp, and unstrapped Link from her back.

“Oh, you!” she grumbled as Abel laughed, rocking Link back and forth in his arms.

“Rest up,” he told her before gently lowering Link. “I’ll be right back.”

Tilieth took the opportunity to jostle her son awake so he could eat some of the broth she’d made. It was absolutely thrilling to see him so easily responsive to it when just yesterday they’d had to race to get anything in him. Maybe he could take an elixir too?

Just as she grabbed the bottle, she noticed Link had fallen back asleep, and she sighed. She supposed she shouldn’t push him too much. At least he ate.

Tilieth worked on making ice pillars (or at least as many as the slate would allow) in anticipation of Abel’s return. The family made their way across easily when her husband exited the shrine far more clothed than earlier.

“You could’ve distracted the enemy,” Tilieth noted, giggling. “It might have been a good strategy.”

“Right,” her husband quipped dully as he tried not to slide on the ice while balancing their son.

Tilieth looked across the expanse, eyes catching orange in the midst of dull browns and greys, and she gasped. “I see another shrine!”

Tilieth raced to Epona as Abel called out to her, and she guided Link’s steed onward with all due haste. Abel hurried behind her, Link carefully held on the saddle with one arm as they cantered through the malice eaten marsh. They crested a hill, and Tilieth saw it.

Another stable. At least what remained of it.

“The Wetland Stable,” Abel supplied quietly as he caught up to her. The couple sat at the top of the hill, their horses nickering a little as they caught their breath. Tilieth’s heart dropped a little at the sight – it had been bad enough seeing what remained of the Dueling Peaks Stable, so filled with memories of journeys, but this…

There was nothing left. She’d only recognized it was a stable due to the scraps of material, the half broken fence, the rotted horse stall. Everything else had burned.

It was a sobering reminder of just how close they were to Central Hyrule. Tilieth’s heart skipped a beat at the thought of it, and her eyes wandered beyond the stable to a bridge that crossed into the land just around the castle.

It… it looked like… Tilieth almost scoffed as the thought appeared in her mind. It looked like a playground, a place where earth had been so scuffed up by children and animal’s feet that the grass couldn’t grow, a land so overused and dry that all it could do was serve as stomping grounds for those who trounced upon it.

She’d only been to Central Hyrule once. But she remembered its beauty. She remembered the splendor of Castle Town as it sparkled in the distance. She couldn’t even see it now.

Her veins filled with ice. Abel and Link had been in the middle of that. And they were—they were so…

Tilieth glanced farther, the silhouette of the castle barely visible, and she nearly made Epona turn around and run the other way.

“There’s the shrine,” Abel pointed out, catching her attention. “Let’s go.”

Tilieth reluctantly, anxiously followed her husband down the hill, but her eyes rarely left the castle.

Princess Zelda was there. Ganon was there.

The desert was sounding more and more appealing by the moment.

But Tilieth finally found her distraction when she glanced back towards the shrine, and noticed movement beside it.

“Hestu!” she called, surprised.

“What?” Abel asked, glancing back at her.

Tilieth abruptly remembered her husband couldn’t see the friendly woodland creature, and she quickly waved off, “Nothing! Let’s see the shrine.”

Abel scrutinized her, debating something, and then said, “Why don’t you stay and rest out here? The instant you hear something strange, head inside the shrine, okay?”

Perfect. “Yes, that sounds good.”

XXX

It was a good thing Tilieth hadn’t entered this shrine.

Abel cursed as he missed his target, the arrow flying just beyond the miniature guardian. He leapt out of the way before it fired at him. For an instant, just an instant, he was back in Castle Town, and the sky was burning, and—

For heaven’s sake. You’ve fought them in other shrines.

But this was… the castle was right there.

Abel shook his head, glanced at where he’d placed Link out of sight of the enemy, and prepared to try again. He swiveled around the corner, firing true this time, and watched the little monster fall into the water. Once the area was cleared, it was simple to make ice pillars, though the current was far too strong for mistakes, so Abel moved carefully with his boy. When they reached the waterfall at the end, he looked at the drop off in dismay.

They would have to jump to get to the platform. They would have to glide.

Abel felt sick and tried not to look down. He tried not to think about how Tilieth had been the one to take the leap in that other shrine a few days ago.

Goddess. And she wanted to split up. What was she thinking? These shrines were dangerous, there was no way he would let her take them on alone. The more he explored this one, the more convinced of that he became. They could certainly travel to the desert together, but he was not leaving his wife and child there.

Never mind that right now, though, how in the world was he going to get Link over to that stupid monk?

“Why did you have to do this?” he grumbled up at the sky. “You and all your stupid servants, making these ridiculous trials. This isn’t training for Link; he tries to kill himself in far worse situations than this on a regular basis. This would just be another day of the week to him, don’t you realize that? The only one you’re going to kill is me.”

The thought of all the insane stunts Abel had done over the years suddenly popped in his head, and he scowled. “Not funny.”

Fine. He’d done a stupid thing once or twice. Everyone did. That didn’t mean he wanted to jump across a chasm and—

Goddess, fine. It wasn’t like he had a choice.

You could always have Tilieth come down and—

 No. Absolutely not.

But she did it in the other shrine and it was fine.

He wasn’t going to risk it.

Abel briefly wondered if he should just test the jump himself first, and then he belatedly realized he would be trapped on the platform surrounded by an endless abyss with Link snoozing peacefully on the platform by a waterfall. No. Not a good idea. The only way out was if Link got the Spirit Orb, or they turned back and got Tilieth.

The height difference is far greater than the other shrine. And the distance is shorter. It’ll be fine.

Abel swallowed, his heart racing. He hated heights. He wasn’t sure if the fact that he couldn’t see the bottom was better or worse.

Taking a steadying breath, he grabbed the paraglider and ran. The two hit the sky, the glider helping them make their way across until—until

It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough.

The platform was just out of reach. Abel desperately wiggled as his feet sank below the level of the platform, as it rose above them, as dread and horror filled every fiber of his being, as he cried out, begging for a miracle. He looked down and found only darkness.

There was no way it was ending like this, not like—

The world spun dizzyingly, and Abel slammed into something, laying prone on a platform.

A platform. With a waterfall. With an ice pillar he’d formed.

Dazed and horrified, he blinked multiple times, Link resting comfortably on his back, and he realized.

The shrine had teleported him back to where he’d jumped.

 Goddess.

Abel let his head thunk against the stone, breath coming out in rasps, and decided that he hated Hylia more than ever. Or the Sheikah. Or both.

But we’re alive. We’re alive.

Abel groaned. This entire time… they could have just gone through these trials without the overwhelming stress… because the damn shrine wasn’t going to let anyone die.

“Could’ve led with that,” he mumbled into the ground. “You could’ve led with that, you damn half rotted idiotic—”

Gritting his teeth, he slowly rose, tightening his core muscles as he lifted himself and his son. The platform was in sight, the monk innocently and serenely resting inside his prison. Abel glared at it.

Fine. If the platform wasn’t high enough for the two of them, he’d try launching off an ice column instead. It would give him more height.

His stomach dropped as he looked over the abyss. Even with the knowledge that the fall wouldn’t kill them, it still made his insides squirm.

You’ve done worse, he told himself, and he had to laugh at himself. He certainly had done worse. It was annoying that heights were so unnerving to him, especially when his children had been so blasted prone to climbing everything in sight.

Grabbing the slate, Abel fumbled with it a moment to get the right location selected before he used the cryonis rune. Tilieth had certainly played with this thing enough to be better at it than him, but he would make do. He watched the column rise from the swift current, sighing and resting the slate on his belt.

Round two.

Carefully, Abel climbed atop the column. When he stood once more, he leaned his head against Link’s feeling the boy’s hair tickle his ear. “Ready to try again, Link?”

He could imagine his boy nodding determinedly, and it made him smile. Taking a deep breath, Abel charged forward, holding tightly to the paraglider as they sailed through the air. The platform steadily rose as they neared it, and he reached his legs out just in time to touch solid ground. Link’s weight on his back through him off balance, nearly making them fall backwards off the bloody thing, but Abel thrust himself forward, nearly crashing into the stairs. Groaning, he dragged himself up to the shrine’s end point and let Link’s hand touch the energy barrier.

Once they were deposited outside the shrine, Abel sighed in relief, enjoying the fresh air the breeze brought to him. He wasn’t a claustrophobic man at all, but nearly dying had certainly made him sick of being in that place.

As he stepped forward, he noticed Tilieth off to the side of the rubble, staring off into the woods.

“This is the Lanayru region,” Tilieth said gently.

Abel furrowed his brow. “Yes, dear. Didn’t you know that already?”

Tilieth squealed as she nearly jumped out of her skin, whirling on the pair. “Oh! You’re back! Did everything go all right?”

Abel imagined telling his wife that he and Link had fallen into a bottomless pit was likely to send her into a hysteria, so he opted to leave that out. “We got the spirit orb.”

“That’s good,” she hummed with a relieved smile. Then she glanced behind her before looking back at him. “I just… um…. Was enjoying the view is all.”

“You’re acting strange,” Abel said flatly, cutting to the chase. “What’s wrong?”

Tilieth sighed. “Honey, it’s… you remember when I saw that giant korok? And you had to find his maracas?”

Abel blinked. Blinked again. He recalled his wife talking to thin air, he recalled her garnering from said thin air that monsters were up ahead. He had indeed found monsters, and a large set of red maracas. Or, at least, he assumed they were maracas – they made no music. “Yes…?”

“Well, he’s here!” Tilieth said happily. “And I have more korok seeds for his maracas, so—”

Abel finally just tuned her out, mentally settling on this is far too silly for me to bother with and moving on with his life.

Or, well, he wanted to, but then he remembered this supposed invisible forest sprite had known of enemies in the area. Perhaps he could be useful again. “Did monsters steal anything of his again? Are there any nearby?”

Tilieth turned, asking, “Are there any monsters nearby?”

Abel stood, watching her nod at thin air as if following along with a conversation, and he again wondered if perhaps one or both of them had simply lost their minds.

“He said there are many across the water,” Tilieth answered a little shakily. “But he hasn’t run into any here. He’s just a little lost. He’s trying to make his way back to the korok forest.”

“The Lost Woods are north of here,” Abel directed easily, recalling the training camp just outside of them.

“Yes,” Tilieth agreed with a smile. “But he also is helping me expand my inventory.”

Abel paused in the motion of putting Link down. “He’s—he’s what?”

“He has magic that allows this—” Here Tilieth gestured to the pouch on her belt, “—to carry items in it! You were asking how I could carry things earlier, this is how!”

To demonstrate, Tilieth grabbed a shield that had been on Epona’s saddle and—and—

And shoved it into a pouch the size of her fist.

Abel felt his eyes widen. “How did—what—”

Tilieth’s smile grew brighter. “I told you! It’s the korok here!”

His mind was blank for a moment longer before he simply sighed heavily, finishing the motion of lowering Link. This… well. He knew of magical creatures and fantastical things, but he rarely had seen them. Link had always been the one to stumble upon magical things, at least according to his stories – the most fantastical, of course, had been playing with forest sprites before finding the sword of legend. But Abel had believed him nonetheless.

He just… didn’t understand. But he assumed he wasn’t going to. Perhaps he just wasn’t a smart man.

Feeling a little helpless, Abel said, “Well… tell him thank you.”

He tuned out his wife’s warm response, sitting on the ground and leaning against the shrine, letting Link slowly slide over to lean on his shoulder as the boy’s weight shifted his balance. He wrapped an arm around the teenager, feeling bone press easily against his hand, with hardly any muscle or fat to hide it. It made him shiver for a moment, and he held Link more tightly. Reaching for the nearest satchel, he pulled out bottle of elixir and shook the boy.

“I just fed him,” Tilieth advised as she walked over. “Before we came to this shrine, I mean.”

“Let’s just see if it helps,” Abel insisted as Link’s eyes opened in response to the shaking. The boy drank half the bottle before trying to nod off again.

Tilieth knelt down on his other side, looking at him. “Do you think it’s making a difference?”

He honestly couldn’t say. But it made him feel better to try, at least. Shadows cast across the boy’s face, making him look even more gaunt, and Abel registered that it was dusk.

“We should make camp,” he said quietly.

”Why don’t we test to see if we can teleport everyone with the slate?” Tilieth suggested, obviously curious.

Abel smiled at her inquisitive nature, and he shrugged. “Couldn’t hurt. We can come right back here if it doesn’t work.”

”Right!” Tilieth agreed, nodding eagerly. “So let’s try it.”

The couple stood and mounted their horses with Link. Tilieth reached a hand out to Abel, who gently took it as she fiddled with the slate, balancing it on the saddle in front of her. She selected a place, and Abel saw the familiar blue light shining around her. Its tendrils extended across her arm, lazily slinking around him and Link, and weightlessness took him alongside a bright light. He closed his eyes against it, holding Link tightly to his chest, his fingers wrapping around Tilieth’s arm, when gravity started to push on him. The earth pushed up in retaliation, pressing into his feet. Link’s weight grew heavier, and Abel had to let go of Tilieth to hold the boy, wrapping his arms around his chest.

They were standing on a tower. The Temple of Time was in sight.

The Great Plateau.

”No horses,” Tilieth noted, disappointed.

Abel registered the sight before him, emotions slamming into him, before a singular thought occurred to him and he shoved his feelings aside. “Why would you teleport us to a tower if you were expecting the horses to come along? How were we going to get the horses down??”

Tilieth opened her mouth to explain herself when the thought occurred to her as well. She shuffled to the edge of the tower and looked down, clearly expecting some new sign of egress when they both were fully aware there wasn’t one. She opened her mouth again, turning towards Abel, finger in the air to defend herself, and came up short once more. Abel raised an eyebrow.

”Oh, hush,” she grumbled as he laughed.

”Come on,” Abel advised, reaching out to her. “Let’s go back. I don’t want to leave them alone too long.”

Tilieth sighed, and the pair easily teleported back to the stable ruins. Abel’s chest tightened at the loss of the plateau, at even seeing it again for a moment. He didn’t know what he was feeling and wasn’t able to process it, and he refused to get lost in the sensation. So instead he set to making camp for the night as the horses nickered nervously, coming to their owners once they reappeared.

The family huddled under the half rotted horse stalls, as there was nowhere else with overhead shelter. Abel listened to the water and the crickets, thinking of Mabe Village just across the river, of Castle Town farther ahead. The bridge between the stable and Central Hyrule was completely gone, so hopefully that would detract any monsters from crossing here.

“Have you thought about my plan a little more?” Tilieth asked quietly as the pair lay beside each other.

“We should probably find the tower for the Lanayru Province,” Abel said, ignoring the question for a moment. “It would give us a better view of the area. We might find more shrines.”

Tilieth rolled to her side so she could look at him directly. “Abel.”

Abel bit his lips. The shrine today had shown that it was less dangerous inside than he’d originally thought, but that didn’t… he despised the idea of separating. It just didn’t feel right. He didn’t care how practical it was, how it might help expedite things – this world was dangerous, and far more foreign than ever. He couldn’t stand the thought of leaving Tilieth and Link alone and unprotected, especially for the chance to just go to Akkala and maybe find someone who could give them more advice. He had all the advice he needed: find the shrines. That was the objective. It just…

He didn’t trust anyone. And he’d been protecting Link and Tilieth for ten years now. Why would he abandon them? Why would Tilieth even suggest it?

“Akkala isn’t that important.” He finally answered.

“Lady Impa said we could learn more about the slate and the Shrine of Resurrection there,” Tilieth argued mildly but determinedly. “We have to at least give it a try.”

“Then perhaps we should just go there first. Together.”

“You’re the one who said we were running out of time! That Ganon might—that he might—”

Abel watched his wife clam up immediately, and she rolled on her back, chest heaving a little with worry. He sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

He hated this.

“Let’s… go to the Gerudo Desert before we make a decision,” he finally compromised. “If it seems safe… then we’ll do as you say.”

Tilieth sat up, eyes alight with relief. “Okay. Okay. I can agree to that. Abel, I… thank you.”

He didn’t really feel like she should be thanking him. Indulging her insane idea wasn’t exactly something that should be respected. But Abel’s last big idea to help his family had…

“Go to Fort Hateno, Link. We’ll rally the troops there and figure something out. I’ll meet you there, okay?”

 Abel felt even more helpless, so utterly worthless in his ability to do anything that should be his duty. He turned away from his family, curling in on himself and trying to fall asleep as nature gently hummed around them.

Chapter Text

Abel hadn’t slept. The night crawled agonizingly along, leaving the former knight tossing and turning. Tilieth rested peacefully in the grass beside him, the tattered, half rotted wooden stall protected them from the mild drizzle. He stared between wood planks, eyes tracing the etches of jagged edges, noticing scorch marks from when the place burned.

When it was destroyed. In the Calamity.

It was stupid, really, how much it was sinking in lately. It wasn’t like Abel hadn’t been a firsthand witness to it. But lately… everything seemed to be wrong, and it drilled into his head. Perhaps it was the thought of separating from Tilieth, the idea that once they reached the Gerudo Desert he would continue on without his family in search of solutions. The anxiety and dread of it made him sick to his stomach.

You had promised, all those years ago, to protect your family. You swore in your knighting that you would protect Hyrule.

Yet here he was, lying in dirt, shivering in the chilly night, protected by the bones of what used to be one of the most vibrant stables in the country. Here he was, with his wife starving and shivering beside him, broken and terrified and alone. Here he was, his daughter dead, his son near to it, the latter’s state being entirely his fault.

He’d separated from the boy. He’d told him to take the princess to Fort Hateno. He’d promised to be there.

He’d been unable to protect the king. Link was the only one who managed to keep the princess safe when Abel was unable to do so.

His daughter was dead.

Abel’s entire life was flashing before his eyes. His mother died of grief over the loss of his father (why wasn’t I good enough? Why weren’t my sisters and I good enough for her to stay?). His younger sister never listened to him, had said he wasn’t their father, had accused him of pretending to know more than he did (she was right). His twin sister had settled in Castle Town, had been there when it had burned (I never even looked for a body, did I? Goddess, I didn’t even look for a body—) He had been given the highest honor by becoming a knight in the royal guard, had served as the captain, a trusted protector of the king and yet he’d been unable to do his duty (the ceiling had collapsed, I tried to protect him, I tried!). He’d sworn to take care of his family, to be there as a father, and—

Abel sat up, filled with energy, chest aching, blood racing. He stood, walking to the river, wanting to run, to fight something, to scream.

He stared up at the sky, breaths rapid and shallow, and asked, Farore, why did you make me? Why did you make me??

What was he even here for, if not to repeatedly screw everything up?! Even when Link had been given a fighting chance, Abel’s stupidity had ruined it - if it hadn’t been for him disturbing that hinox, this wouldn’t even be an issue! Link would still be safe in the Shrine of Resurrection, and—

Why did you make me?! What was the purpose?! I do nothing but cause problems, I can’t get it right, I can never get it right!

It was sacrilegious to even contemplate what thought came next, but Abel already knew he was a worthless, faithless fool anyway.

You made a mistake when you made me.

The drizzle continued to fall, slowly soaking him to his core. It was a splash of reality as he shivered and fell to his knees, a cold consolation in an empty world.

Wallowing in self pity won’t help them, he reminded himself. Slowly, he dragged himself back to the stall, trying to push the intrusive thoughts out, trying to ignore the berating. He was so damn tired.

The next day brought a heavy rainfall, and though the couple would have preferred to wait it out, anxieties drove them both forward. They didn’t dare bathe in the river – it was far too close to Central Hyrule for either of their liking. Instead, they barely ate breakfast, woke Link to drink some broth, and hastily made their way back to Kakariko.

As they passed through the half-barren marsh, the tower for Lanayru teased them with its proximity. Tilieth glanced at Abel with a shrug. “It’s practically on the way. We might as well activate it; maybe it could give us some helpful information.”

Abel doubted that was the case, but he didn’t argue; he himself had suggested going to the tower as a distraction yesterday. The pair cantered across the marsh, signs of life catching Abel’s eye as they went along. The marsh was slowly coming back, the rain bringing life as puddles formed amidst the mud and debris. Pieces of guardians were slowly washed away, and much more had probably already been removed over the last decade. He tried to take comfort in that.

When the pair reached the beach, Abel saw that the tower was on the other side, which was mildly problematic. This was becoming more involved than he wished it to be, but they were too far invested in it to turn back now.

Tilieth offered to cross, but Abel didn’t trust that the other side would be safe. He’d already surveyed the beach they were on and didn’t see any threats, so he asked her to stay behind instead, taking the slate and utilizing its runes to get across with little effort on his part. Meanwhile, Tilieth bathed herself and Link.

Abel hadn’t expected to find a person on the other side of the beach.

They both stood there in the sand for a moment, frozen in time. Abel felt his body stiffen, electricity firing through his muscles. The Hylian looked equally on edge, skin and bones, dark circles under his eyes, clothes ill fitting and half rotted off him. He jerked his body, reaching for something in an instant.

Abel grabbed his bow and arrow and shot true.

The Hylian grunted as the arrow sank into his chest, his sword that had been half drawn collapsing into the sand beside him. Abel remained motionless for a moment, his mind catching up to what his body had just done. The Hylian let out a gurgling breath and then grew still.

Abel released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, and slowly lowered his arms.

The world was silent, save for water lapping on the shore. Abel couldn’t hear it. He couldn’t hear anything.

Swallowing, the former knight hesitantly walked towards the fallen Hylian. When he saw lifeless eyes staring off at nothing, he finally put his bow away.

The world came crashing back down on him an instant.

You just killed a man.

 Well, he was clearly going to attack first!

You’re a knight. Your job is to defend the people of Hyrule. And you just killed one.

This wasn’t the first time he’d killed someone. It was ridiculous to let it bother him. Besides, he wasn’t a knight anymore.

At least check him for supplies.

Abel recoiled at the thought. He wasn’t going to defile the dead like that. He refused.

Taking a shaky step away, he started to head towards the Sheikah tower as if nothing had happened.

A gasp sounded, and Abel whirled, reaching for his bow and arrows yet again. He readied himself, but caught sight of a woman, a young Zora female who was watching him in horror.

“P-please!” She hastily said as she raised her hands. “I’m not even a warrior, I don’t mean any harm! I—I just came down here to find some fish, I—I promise I’m n-not a threat!”

Abel took in the sight of the Zora, memories flooding his mind of his time he’d spent in the Domain with Link. He recalled their princess, and his chest ached at the loss. The girl had been sweet and a strong warrior. She had also been the best healer in the kingdom.

Nevertheless, he didn’t lower his bow.

“P-please,” the Zora begged, beginning to cry. “I—you c-can even have my catch of the m-morning. I b-bet you’re hungry, right? You look it. Just—just please don’t hurt me.”

Abel’s gaze flicked across the river. He could vaguely see Tilieth and Link from here. If the Zora turned around and caught sight of them…

Abel. Stop. She even said she wasn’t a fighter.

Abel took another shaky breath, the adrenaline still fresh from his previous kill, paranoia heightened by the threat, blood rushing through his ears, deafening him to the rest of the world, silencing the woman’s whimpers. What difference did that make? The world had ended. Everyone was a fighter now.

“I-I’m—I’m just g-gonna put the fish down now, okay?” The Zora said shakily, hiccuping through her words, hands still held in the air. She carefully moved to reach for a net she’d been carrying, easing it to the ground.

Abel took a threatening step closer, arrow still fixed on her head, but he didn’t release it. The Zora practically scampered into the water, hands held high again as she told him over and over she wasn’t a threat, that she wasn’t going to hurt him. When she was half submerged into the water, he narrowed his eyes, motioning upstream with his head. The woman caught his meaning and quickly fled.

As he lowered his bow, Abel grew dizzy. He stumbled forward, picking up the net of fish, and slung it over his shoulder. The balance and the way the world spun made him nearly collapse into the sand, his stomach churning. He blinked once, twice, thrice to clear his head, shaking it so he could actually hear the world again, but it was still just his heart pounding.

A chirp caught his attention next, nearly making him draw his sword, when he realized it was the slate.

A shrine was nearby?

Focusing, Abel shook his head one last time, following the slate’s guidance until he neared the entrance to the Zora trail that led to the Domain. It was blocked by fallen rocks, a piece of half decayed guardian machinery squashed underneath. The shrine was just off to the left, uphill a ways.

How could he possibly bring Link over here after what had just happened? He needed to get back, to check on Tilieth! He’d just wandered off, they were out of sight now!

But the tower was right there too. He could see everything from the tower, including threats.

The area was clearly too dangerous, though. But he’d ensured there were no monsters on the other side before leaving his family.

But the threats over here hadn’t been monsters. What if there were Zora near his family?

Abel took another shaky breath, rushing back to the beach. He could still see Tilieth, who waved cheerily at him, clearly having completely missed everything that had transpired. She looked to be dressed now, sitting on the shore with Link.

Abel heard the water lapping. He heard the flapping of bird wings, the trickle as the rain settled into a lazy sprinkling. The world came back, and he tried to take a full breath.

The tower. Just get to the tower.

Thankfully it wasn’t hard to actually reach the tower. He had to rush across the bridge and scale the cliffside, but there were very few monsters around. He picked off a few lizalfos, a moblin, and a handful of bokoblins before reaching the top.

From the top of the tower, once activated, Abel could see a good portion of the region. Zora’s Domain was just beyond his range of vision, hidden in sparkling mountains laden with luminous stones. He remembered the festivals, the nights where those cliffs would practically glow. He remembered the giggles of children as Link played with his friends.

Looking away, Abel pushed at his pant legs, which had ridden up a little since they’d shortened in length from fraying over the years, and tucked them back into his boots. He squinted at the river, catching sight of Tilieth and Link, who were still relaxing on the beach. He couldn’t see any other shrines aside from the one he’d found. He wasn’t sure if that should make him feel better or worse.

Sighing, Abel grabbed the paraglider, took a deep breath, and jumped. He wondered, for the instant before his feet left the tower, if he was beginning to overcome his fear of heights. As soon as the sensation of weightlessness hit, as soon as he was in the air, he felt the bottom drop out of his stomach as an unpleasant reminder that was not, in fact, the case. The adrenaline still lingering in his system, paired with the vertigo he felt at gliding through the air this high up, nearly made him let go of the paraglider entirely. Abel squeezed his eyes closed for a moment, and then shifted his weight, tilting the glider to aim for the beach across the water. Dully, he grumbled internally that he hadn’t always been this afraid of heights, and that it was a terrible time for it to manifest so badly.

Despite not wanting to look down, Abel managed to make it across the river, but his knees gave out the instant his feet touched the sand, and he face planted. He heard Tilieth call out to him and rush over, and he slowly pushed himself up, spitting out sand.

“Are you okay?” his wife asked, dropping down beside him.

Abel swallowed, not entirely capable of speaking, and nodded with a grunt. He sat on his legs for a moment, catching his breath, and then managed to say hoarsely, “There’s a shrine over there.”

“Oh! Really? Let me see.” Tilieth reached forward, taking the slate off Abel’s hip and glancing at it. The new information provided by the tower allowed her to survey the area, and she quickly found the shrine that was marked on it. “Oh, that’s not far at all! We can cross right here—”

“No,” Abel interrupted, remembering the body. He probably should have done something with it. Buried it? He should bury it, right? Show respect for the dead?

They didn’t have time for that.

“We’ll cross further upstream,” he finally muttered.

“Upstream…” Tilieth repeated as she peered at the map before gasping. “We’re close to the Zora!”

Abel spat out some more sand, rubbing his face. “Yes. And?”

“Sheik had said something about the Zora being hostile,” Tilieth said uncertainly, lowering the slate. “Why, though? They were allies to Hyrule. And… after all the effort you and that delegation put in…and the… the princess…”

Hostile? That woman he’d encountered hadn’t been. But what if she’d told her people, and they were coming here now?

After all the effort you and that delegation put in…

Abel bit back the bitterness of yet another failure, the pain and loss of the sweet princess who had been such dear friends with his son.

The point was that apparently the Zora were enemies now.

“We need to move quickly,” he surmised, finally standing and heading towards Link. “Start working on the pillars, please.”

Tilieth nodded, walking towards the water. The family made their way across as quickly as was feasible before Abel directed them towards the shrine.

However, once they entered, they did not receive the usual greeting.

“In the name of the Goddess Hylia, I offer this combat trial.”

 “A combat trial?” Tilieth repeated worriedly.

Abel smiled, remembering the tutorial trial in Kakariko. Honestly, he was a little eager to get some energy out. He carefully lowered Link to the ground and headed into the large room. He figured he would test out the guardian weapon he’d taken from the last combat trial, alongside the Sheikah shield.

The tiny guardian was surprisingly easy to defeat. It telegraphed its moves so easily it was almost laughable. Abel was again, bitterly, reminded that these things had be designed to aid the people of Hyrule and its Hero. This little machine was here to train Link.

Instead, his boy was covered in wounds from its larger counterparts, near comatose and helpless.

Abel shook his head, finishing off the little guardian and trying to focus. He’d been far too morose lately. He had a mission to complete.

Goddess, he’d kill for some sleep, though.

The expression hitched in his mind, and he shook his head again. He turned and waved to Tilieth, signaling the all clear, before belatedly remembering he should go back to carry Link. Til, however, tried to carry the boy herself, dragging her feet into the arena while huffing and puffing a little.

Abel took pity on his wife, heart warmed at her attempt, and walked over to her. “Let me carry him, love.”

“No, I’ve got this,” Tilieth argued through a strained voice. “I have to be able to do this.”

I have to be able to do this if you’re going to leave me, was the unspoken sentiment. Abel felt his stomach crawl. He followed his wife silently, worries eating him alive. The couple retrieved a knight’s bow (how long had this been down here? Why was it designed similarly to their bows from ten years ago? Wasn’t this shrine ancient? Who else had accessed it, anyway? Why were there so many modern trinkets hidden down here?) and Link received the spirit orb, and they were transported outside.

Naturally, it was pouring. Abel shivered and quickly took Link in his arms to give Tilieth a break. He noticed the boy had little braids in his hair now, along the sides, before it was pulled back into the usual ponytail he wore. He supposed Tilieth had been enjoying herself on the beach. Link scrunched his face against the rain, clearly uncomfortable with the cold, and Abel looked around quickly to ascertain if it was wise to use the shrine for shelter until the rain let up.

Tilieth took the opportunity to look at the map. “I guess the best way to get to the desert would be going back through Kakariko? We could get one last respite in before the journey begins.”

Technically, the best path would be taking the road to the Riverside Stable, but that required going into Central Hyrule, which was out of the question. Not to mention the bridge leading there from the Wetlands Stable was destroyed, anyway.

No, Tilieth was right. The surest path was back through Kakariko.

“Let’s go,” he said quietly, carefully sliding down slick stone with Link in his arms. He didn’t want to linger.

When they reached the water, Tilieth hastened forward, grabbing Abel by the arm and shushing him. Abel looked at her, alarmed, wondering what she’d seen, watching as she crept forward. When he followed her line of sight, though, he saw some ducks waddling ahead on the shore.

“Really?” he whispered. “Right now? We’re about to go back into town, we don’t need to hunt.”

“Oh, I’m not hunting them, I just want to watch them,” Tilieth said lightly, a sweet smile pulling at her lips.

Abel bit back an exasperated reply. He’d already snapped at her yesterday. He wasn’t going to do it again. But they needed to move. He kept his mouth shut, watching his wife creep forward before talking briefly to the ducks, who quacked in response, eliciting giggles from Til. He tried to enjoy watching it. He really did.

“Til,” he finally said, unable to bear it any longer. “Link’s going to get cold.”

This snapped her out of her distraction, and Tilieth apologized worriedly as she started to create ice pillars. Abel let her place the harness on him before he positioned Link and strapped him in. The couple slid across the river, occasionally nearly toppling over with as slippery as it was, but they managed to make it to the beach and their horses. Abel thought they were finally in the clear when something else seemed to catch Tilieth’s eye (after she’d already snagged some dragonflies), and she pulled Epona in circles. Abel let Ama slow to a halt, watching his wife aimlessly ride in a dizzying pattern. At least the rain had stopped, but…

“What are you doing?” he asked, bewildered.

“There’s—there’s this—oh, I almost had it!” Tilieth huffed, pushing Epona to move faster and reaching down until she was halfway off the saddle. His wife was a good rider, so he wasn’t particularly concerned, but her behavior still made no sense. Link sneezed, distracting Abel, who tried to remember if they’d fed the boy or not (they did, right? They had to, right?), and he jostled the teenager and coaxed him to drink some broth while Tilieth still rode in a circle.

“Til—”

“I know, I’ll be quick!”

“Til, this is ridiculous, what are you even doing?”

“There’s a light!”

“There’s literally nothing.”

Til huffed, jumping off Epona entirely, making Abel tense up, and she pounced on something. “Got you!”

Abel stared as his wife, breathless, laughed giddily and reached out her hand and said thank you and then rose, looking triumphant.

Scrunching his nose, he surmised, “This is another one of those koroks, isn’t it?”

Tilieth nodded, cheeks flushed with cheer. Abel had to smile at her in reply, even though he felt that familiar helplessness. Not that he cared about collecting seeds, but it seemed in this avenue he was fairly useless. What if these magical creatures could help them somehow, and he was making himself a liability by not being able to see them? Why could Tilieth see them?

Sighing, Abel nudged Ama with his legs. “All finished?”

“Yes,” Tilieth said, satisfied, as she climbed back into Epona’s saddle. “Let’s get to the village. We should be able to get there by midafternoon, right?”

“Correct.”

At least, that would have been the plan, except Tilieth wanted to pick some herbs, and the slate started chirping that another shrine was nearby, leading them to a little sandbar with a shrine innocently sitting at its center. Abel stared, bemused, wondering if they’d somehow missed this one, as they had to have passed it, right?

No matter. Another shrine was another shrine. At least this one was close to the village.

“Ah, the soil is so fertile here,” Tilieth noted, and Abel had to agree as he nearly sank ankle deep into the earth. A few chus led to enough damage to the guardian blade that the ancient relic shattered, and Abel irritably switched weapons, grumbling about faulty Sheikah tech as he did so.

The shrine was fairly straightforward, leaping across driftwood to make it to the other side. The final part involved destroying bomb barrels at the right time to eliminate a wall (Abel did have to wonder at the efficacy of such a thing as the bombs were floating in the water, but he supposed they would find out). Tilieth found great pleasure in retrieving every treasure chest she could find, though, according to her, none could beat the one that contained the headband Abel wore.

“It’s too bad there aren’t more clothes,” she commented as Abel aimed at the barrels with a fire arrow. “Or at least materials to make some. Your clothes are a little tattered.”

Abel paused, glancing down at his attire. He wore what his wife had managed to patch together from fabric and clothes they’d found on the plateau, fashioning a warm doublet. The trousers he wore used to nearly fit him perfectly, but time and use had made them threadbare, riding up to nearly midway up his calf. His wife, on the other hand, wore an oversized green tunic that was practically a dress that went to her knees with a white undershirt, and the trousers she wore were made from the tattered remains of her dress she’d been wearing the day of the Calamity. Honestly, they both could use some new clothes, Abel supposed. He was at least grateful Tilieth had made some for Link. The boy was warmer and more protected in the Hylian tunic she’d fashioned. If only they could get the boy some shoes…

Tilieth built ice columns for them to stand on so Abel could aim better, but after three tries of missing lifting the barrels out of the water at the right time, his wife was clearly growing frustrated.

“Here,” Abel suggested gently, holding out his hand. “You’re a decent shot. I’ll make the column, you fire the arrow.”

Tilieth bit her lip uncertainly and then nodded. When Abel successfully timed the ice column, leaving the bomb barrel innocently waiting at its peak, Tilieth fired true with a fire arrow.

Link flinched at the ensuing explosion, sniffling, blinking his eyes open, but he settled back to sleep quickly.

“How did you get it?” Tilieth asked, obviously a little annoyed.

Abel smiled. “Because I’m more patient than you.”

His wife rolled her eyes exasperatedly, and the pair acquired the spirit orb. As they exited, Abel saw a familiar sight – the Riverside Stable, its framework splintering up towards the sky. That was definitely the stable he’d seen on their way to the Dueling Peaks. They’d… gotten a little off track with this other shrine.

“Which way back to Kakariko?” Tilieth questioned a little confusedly before gasping. “Abel, there’s another shrine over there!”

Abel glanced up at the sky. The sun was still high. They had time. “Let’s go.”

Surprisingly, Eagus Bridge was somehow still intact, though most of the protective siding was gone. But Abel realized something, almost too late, horribly, and he immediately blocked Tilieth’s path as they neared the next bridge.

“What?” Tilieth asked.

“This leads to Central Hyrule. The Riverside Stable is in Central Hyrule.” Abel emphasized. “We’re not going there.”

Tilieth looked torn, but also very clearly petrified.

Abel motioned with his head. “We need to get to the village.”

He was not risking his family for this. He would come later, without them, to ensure it was safe. Not that he was going to tell Tilieth that.

The smell of smoke scorched his nostrils, burned his lungs—

Abel shook his head, ridding himself of the memory, the sensation. He guided Epona and Ama ahead, holding Link more tightly.

The couple moved in silence, interrupted only by the rhythmic clomping of their steeds’ hooves. Thankfully it was an uneventful trek back to Kakariko. Their arrival caught everyone's attention, and Lady Impa moved towards them quickly.

“Any luck with the shrines?” she asked. “Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine,” Tilieth assured her with a smile. “We just need to pass through again to head for the—”

“Next destination,” Abel interrupted. He… didn’t want anyone to know where they were going. Not even the princess’ royal advisor. “We’ll stay here tonight. If that’s fine with you.”

“Of course,” Lady Impa acknowledged, her tone implying that it was obvious. Abel felt a little guilty at it, at her hesitancy and uncertainty as she looked at him. He’d never interacted with the woman much in the past, but a little voice in his mind did whisper that they were all on the same side. It sounded annoyingly like Tilieth.

Abel gently lowered Link from Ama, letting Tilieth take him and hobble over to a nearby cooking pot. He glanced towards the mountain pass once more.

He’d wait until nightfall to explore. The less fuss, the better.

Tilieth’s off-tune humming filled the air, making the former knight smile. His wife rocked back and forth where she sat, taking Link with her as he was settled on her lap. Abel took comfort in the gentle, warm cheer, watching as Tilieth started to chat aimlessly with the Sheikah chief.

“Where’s Sheik?” Tilieth asked. “I saw nearly everyone else. Oh, and how’s the little one and her mother? Mellie and Jummo, right?”

“They’re both doing great,” Lady Impa answered happily. “The plum trees we planted seem to be surviving too. This rain is certainly helping. As for Sheik, she left around the same time you two did.”

“Where did she go?”

“She’s… on a pilgrimage. She’s visiting all the sacred springs that Princess Zelda visited.”

Abel tuned out the rest of the conversation, simply watching Tilieth and Link. He sat on the stairs to the inn, leaning against a crate and feeling himself nod off. He supposed not sleeping was catching up to him. He shook his head to try and stay awake – he had to investigate Central Hyrule tonight, after all.

“Honey? You okay?”

Abel blinked again, and—when had the sun set so much? When had Tilieth moved to stand in front of him?

“Oh, Abel,” Tilieth said softly, placing a hand on his cheek. He reached up, letting his hand rest over hers to reassure her, eyes searching for Link as he confusedly tried to piece together what had just happened. “Honey, why don’t you get some sleep?”

Sleep? No, not yet. He’d just slept a little anyway, right? Time had passed.

“’m alright,” he slurred, not sounding convincing in the slightest. Damn it.

Tilieth’s eyes grew glassy with worry and unshed tears, and Abel felt even worse for it. Damn it.

Reaching forward, he pulled her close, letting her sit on his lap a moment as they held each other, and he kissed her just under her eyes, catching the tears as they fell. “I’m okay, love. I promise.”

Tilieth trembled in his arms, sniffling. “Abel, I just… it’s okay. Please, just rest. I’m worried about you.”

“Don’t worry,” he whispered, holding her more tightly, willing all of his love and assurance into it. Please don’t worry. She had enough to worry about. He’d caused his wife enough problems lately. “I promise I’ll sleep later tonight, okay? I just… want to pray at the statue before bed.”

Tilieth perked up, and her expression was hard to read. His wife was naturally far more trusting than him, so he hoped the lie would work (and oh how he despised having to lie to her, but she’d never let him go if he said what he was planning on doing). However, Tilieth was not a fool – she knew Abel didn’t really pray anymore. Perhaps, once in a while, in the middle of the night, in desperation or loneliness, Abel would wander to the Temple of Time before this new journey had begun, but it had been rare.

It was hard to believe in the love of goddesses who would allow this to happen, after all.

His wife watched him silently, her brown eyes piercing into him in a way that reminded him of Link, searching for answers unspoken. Abel broke the spell, though, by leaning in and kissing her on the forehead, brushing curls away from her face.

That night, he ate in silence. He didn’t dare speak, he didn’t dare try to reassure her any more, he didn’t wish to lie any further. Tilieth seemed to gain some of her earlier cheer back as she woke Link to feed him, as she cleaned him and tucked him in. Abel watched the pair, heart heavy, wondering if this was a mistake.

What if… what if he failed again? What if he got himself killed out there, in that goddess forsaken land? What if there were guardians out there as there had been ten years ago?

What would he find? What if he didn’t return?

What would happen to his family?

You’re being paranoid. There was no way Central Hyrule was that dangerous, or Lady Impa would have warned them about it. Right? Besides, Blatchery Plain was riddled with guardians and they were all harmless. So it had to be fine. Right?

Right?

There was a shrine there, though. He had to try.

For Link.

Abel watched Tilieth settle into the bed beside Link, leaving space for him to join her. He went outside, heading for the goddess statue.

Hylia smiled serenely at him. Abel stared darkly back.

He didn’t pray. He couldn’t. Even if he recognized the gift that Epona was, the miracle that Link was actually improving, he couldn’t pray. How could he, after what he’d done today?

How could he, after all his failures? He blamed Hylia for the destruction of Hyrule, but he hadn’t done any better to protect it.

He’d killed a man today.

Could he have avoided it?

It didn’t matter. Whether he could’ve avoided it or not, it didn’t matter. That person would never be a threat again.

But what if he was just scared? What if you could’ve talked him down, as you had with those siblings at Proxim Bridge?

Am I a murderer?

He supposed he didn’t deserve to pray. He wasn’t a knight; he wasn’t even a good man anymore. He was just a survivor. And he would do anything to protect his family.

Besides, that Hylian had clearly been starving. He’d likely been desperate and would’ve been willing to do anything too. He’d been a threat.

Abel still didn’t think he was a good man anymore, though. He wasn’t sure he’d been one since the Calamity.

He didn’t need to be a good man. Just a good fighter.

Hylia smiled serenely at him. Abel turned away.

He paused as he passed the inn. Almost went inside to see his wife and his son. But then he kept going. He didn’t want to risk catching Tilieth’s attention. Quietly, he guided Ama out of the village before mounting her and riding into the night.

A keese or two tried to interfere as he rode, but he eliminated them easily.

Eagus Bridge seemed infinitely more foreboding as he crossed it now. Horwell Bridge even more so.

Ama’s hoofs tapped rhythmically, a familiar, comforting cadence to the pounding in his heart. His skin felt cold, the hair on the back of his neck prickling. Was he being watched? He didn’t hear the sound of the earth tearing under clawed metal feet, he didn’t hear the claps of thunder that followed the firing of lasers, he didn’t hear the ticking as the mechanical monsters prepared to destroy whatever was in their path.

His heart raced even faster. Ama nickered nervously, picking up on his energy, pausing at the edge of the bridge.

Central Hyrule stood before him.

It was hard to really see it with as dark as it was. The moon was crescent tonight, barely spilling any of its blessed light. Abel’s eyes were wide, desperate to take in every piece of information he possibly could. The wind blew innocently, bringing the scent of soil and water.

No flowers. No leaves. No trees. Dirt was carried in the breeze, loose, eroding, barren.

It was all barren.

Abel carefully bade Ama forward, and as her hooves crunched into the soil, he felt his body tense further.

What little light was available from the moon vanished, hidden behind clouds heavy laden with rain. Ama’s black hair made her practically disappear into the darkness, and thunder rumbled not too far away.

Abel urged his steed ahead, slowly and carefully. Thunder rumbled again.

Thunder. Thunder.

The sky burned.

 The bells in the temple rang repeatedly, a warning and a petition, a prayer and a guide. It punctuated the screams, it harmonized the ticking of lasers as they charged and fired, shooting through the air with such intensity that it created miniature claps of thunder as the heat separated the air harshly before it returned together with a snap.

 Abel’s breath caught in his throat.

The world around him was deafening.

T here was so much noise, and his ears were ringing so much, he honestly couldn't tell what sound came from what source anymore. Was it a scream? Was it a guardian? Was that a child wailing or a gear grinding? Was that his heart pounding in his ears or was it a thunderclap from another beam firing?

Ama whinnied, moving in place anxiously.

Abel stared ahead, watching troops march together, some limping, others helping their comrades. Many had wagons and horses to help them.

He heard whirring. He heard gears. He heard claws, and ticking, and thunder.

Thunder rumbled again. The earth shook. Ama neighed, growing skittish, jostling him in his saddle, it was raining, when had it started raining, something was moving, something was moving—

Abel heard horse hooves galloping, he heard a battle cry, he saw mud splashing in the barren wasteland around him—

Bokoblin!

Abel gasped, coming to reality, spurring Ama into motion, and she ran ahead. He drew his sword, catching sight of the enemy, recognizing faintly the familiar motion of aiming a bow and arrow. He jerked his horse to the side as an arrow flew by his ear, and he redirected her to charge once more, stabbing the bokoblin. His blood was racing, his body soaked, his hands trembling—

His horse whinnied with panic as flames spread too close, licking at its hooves and his heels. He steered the mare around the flames as she almost bucked him off, and then the flames were abruptly disrupted by a clawed foot tearing into the earth and squelching them.

In the haze and smoke, Abel recognized the pink mechanical eye transfixed on him. He sucked in a sharp inhale, coughing harshly on the smoke in his lungs, and urged his mount to move.

Metal glinted. Lightning flashed, reflecting on a blank eye, a mirror to a past of fire and smoke.

Abel froze in his saddle. Ama ran harder, petrified, out of control.

The guardian was hot on his heels, charging its laser as he once again pushed the horse to run faster. His steed neighed in protest, her stamina draining out of her faster than it could replenish, and the guardian fired.

Go! Go, run!!!!

Abel pulled on the reins hard, making Ama neigh in protest as she tried to obey, as her hooves slipped, she lost her balance in such a sharp turn, and both horse and rider fell into the mud.

Thunder rumbled.

Thunder clapped as lasers fired.

It was pouring.

The sky was aflame as people screamed.

 It was deafening it was deafening.

 Movement stirred nearby, screams—screams of civilians—thunder thunder guardian fire, they were everywhere—

Abel whirled, sword at the ready, a snarl at his lips as Ama tried to right herself. His hilt made contact, slamming something, and he looked around with crazed, terrified eyes.

Where was it where was it—

Ama finally stood. Thunder rumbled again. Lightning flashed.

Lightning flashed. Shining a light. A light. On the barren wasteland. There was—there were—what was—

Blonde curls, stained with red. A figure, lying still in the mud. Green tunic smattered in brown, the only green as far as the eye could see—

Abel felt his heart stop.

This wasn’t—this wasn’t real this wasn’t real nononononono—

Abel ran, heart racing once more. The world shook as lighting struck again. The figure remained still on the ground.

“TILIETH!”

He collapsed into the mud, shaking her shaking her begging, pleading, goddess no please no—

The still fingers. The still feet. The still body. The paleness, the redness, the black and blue and—

“NO!”

Thunder roared. The rain was deafening. But nothing could outweigh the sobs, nothing could cover the screams, nothing could stave the panic as the former knight shook his wife over and over and over and over and over.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Tilieth listened to the wind chimes in the distance as she washed Link’s hair. The world around her was warm and bright, and her pack was full of freshly harvested mushrooms and herbs. The bathing area for the Sheikah was a pond just up the hill from the village. There were two ponds, actually, though one had a strange massive flower bud that glowed, and the area was considered sacred. Tilieth didn’t want to upset anyone, though she did bottle some of the water, so she took Link to the watering hole everyone else used. It granted a beautiful view of the village, and it gave her some peace.

After Tilieth and Impa had chased Abel, and their subsequent return to the village, Tilieth had called for help, and Kollin had arrived quickly. Abel was given a potion to alleviate the alarmingly fast rate he was bleeding through his shoulder injury, and while the wound was now gone, her husband was utterly spent from blood loss, stress, and a lack of sleep. She’d stayed by his side until he’d passed out, and then she’d resolved to take care of Link before returning to her vigil. She’d needed to clear her mind.

Where should she even start? She was still reeling, heart having only just slowed down as she’d watched Abel steadily fall asleep, his hand clutched desperately in hers. The moment of clarity she’d had as they’d teleported to the village allowed her to stay calm for her poor husband, but now she was alone with Link, and her head wouldn’t stay quiet.

Abel had hurt her? He had gotten so desperately out of control that he’d hurt her? It was clearly a complete accident, one he regretted so much he was terrified to even get near her, but it was frightening in itself.

How far gone was her husband, that he could lose such control of his mind? Had he always been this bad and she’d simply failed to notice? Tilieth tried to think of other instances where perhaps Abel simply wasn’t acting right, but aside from his short temper or paranoia…

Perhaps that was it, then. It wasn’t that he’d always been this way, it was just the logical conclusion to worsening of his already bad habits.

But how could she possibly help him with this? What had tipped him over the edge? Was it the lack of sleep? She knew he hadn’t slept at least one night. She had to be more on top of it – her husband had always been the strong one, but it was clear now that in some ways the poor man was downright brittle.

And that was frightening too. Because Abel had always been her steady rock, and now he was crumbling.

This wasn’t the first time the man had faltered, of course. He’d snapped at her before, he’d shown signs of being worn down. But this was… far more extreme than she imagined him capable of.

Sleep, she resolved to herself. He needs to sleep well. I have to make sure he sleeps well.

Sighing, Tilieth glanced down at her son, who was boneless under her care. The past day or two he’d wake up easily to stimulation, and the cool water had startled his eyes open, but the gentle touch of his mother had soothed him back to sleep. She didn’t mind. He’d already eaten. He could rest. Hylia knew he needed it.

Carefully, Tilieth pulled Link out of the shallow edge of the pond, laying him on a blanket she’d brought and wrapping him in it. Link shivered, brow furrowing in discomfort, and she kissed his forehead.

I can be the strong one for a little while, she surmised, smiling down at her baby boy. They were just going to stay in Kakariko. She could run a calm, domestic scene just fine. She wasn’t alone here. She had plenty of ideas already for what she could do while her boys slept.

“Tilieth?”

She jumped, startled, but the voice was familiar. Glancing down the hill a little bit, she caught sight of the Sheikah chief, Impa. “Oh! You made it back safely! I was worried.”

Lady Impa smiled. “I was worried too. I checked in with Kollin – it seems Sir Abel is resting now?”

Tilieth nodded. “He…”

She didn’t know what to say, honestly, so she just gave a weak shrug with a small smile.

“He loves you,” Lady Impa said, reading her body language. Her words were spoken with sincerity and conviction. “He loves both of you so much. And he’s strong. He’ll be okay. He just… I’ve seen it. With others. The Calamity left scars on us all. I’m just… afraid that perhaps his wounds have not had the chance to heal to that point.”

No. They truly haven’t. “I hope you don’t mind us staying in Kakariko for a little longer. I appreciate your hospitality. You’ve been so kind to us.”

“It’s my pleasure,” the Sheikah chief replied warmly. “I’m going to return to the village, but I wanted to find you to make sure you were alright. Your husband’s horse is in the stable with Epona.”

“Thank you,” Tilieth gratefully said. “Truly. For everything.”

Lady Impa was too humble to acknowledge the gratitude once again, so she bowed her head and departed. Tilieth looked down at her son, drying him off a little and dressing him in the tunic she’d made for him, as well as a fresh set of trousers she’d been gifted by one of the Sheikah. Then she braced herself and clipped the harness to her back, slowly carrying the boy back into the village.

Liyah, the innkeeper, was waiting for her return, and she smiled warmly. “Welcome back, dear. Your husband’s been sleeping quite peacefully. Can I get you anything?”

“No, I’m fine, thank you,” Tilieth acknowledged as she grunted, contradicting her words. Golden Three, why did her baby have to be so heavy? She couldn’t imagine hauling him around at his healthy weight – he was far skinnier now than he should be.

“He looks much more comfortable,” Liyah noted cheerily, leaning over Link as Tilieth tucked him back into the bed. “A good bath will do that. Perhaps you can help your husband clean up when he’s awake.”

Tilieth hummed, brushing hair out of Link’s face before glancing at her husband in the bed beside them. Abel’s face was worn and pale, but at least he looked at peace. He still had dried blood caked on his neck, though – his doublet had been removed to examine the wound, and the dirt, grime, and clots from the last day or so were evident where the clean bandages didn’t cover. A bath was a good idea. She was a little worried to take Abel any distance from the village, though.

“Oh, I remember long ago, before the Calamity, how there used to be this wonderful bath house,” Liyah continued, eyes lost to the past as her voice became dreamy. “My husband used to be a royal scientist, you know, and we’d travel often. Well, he would. I tried to go with him as much as I could. But ah, Tilieth, the bath house that my people built near Akkala! There were so many Sheikah spread across central locations of Hyrule, you see, so we made little settlements sometimes. Everyone loved that place – it became a vacationing spot, even! Utilizing the hot springs from the Goron lands was a genius idea.”

“It sounds nice,” Tilieth commented, imagining how wonderful a warm bath sounded. And to achieve one with no extra effort in making a fire to heat the water! She wondered if her family would have a chance to see Death Mountain at all on this journey.

The thought of it was certainly exciting, but also a little daunting. But now wasn’t the time to spiral over that. Tilieth knew that what everyone needed right now was rest, so she tried to only focus on the moment.

“Perhaps you should get some sleep too, my dear,” the innkeeper suggested.

Tilieth considered it, but to be honest, she was far too wired. If she laid down, she would only worry, not sleep, so she shook her head. “I don’t think sleep is attainable for me at the moment.”

“Well, then get yourself some fresh air,” Liyah insisted. “I can watch these two. If they awaken, I will retrieve you.”

Leave both of them? Tilieth watched the elderly innkeeper uncertainly. But, the more she pondered it, the better the idea sounded. Abel’s clothes were threadbare at best, worn thin from years of use with little to no repair. She had an opportunity to make something for him just as she had for Link. Perhaps she could even make something for herself instead of using an old repurposed dress as a tunic.

Yes… she supposed stepping out would be good. In fact, she was maybe even a little excited about it. Her heart still sped with anxiety as she looked at her husband, though.

“He’s resting,” Liyah said gently, following her gaze. “It will do neither of you any good to hover over him for now. Take care of yourself so that you can look after him, my dear. Now is the best time to do so.”

Tilieth sighed a little, feeling weight lifted from her shoulders as she smiled softly at the innkeeper. “Thank you. I… I needed to hear that.”

With a caring smile mirrored back at her, Tilieth happily went outdoors, feeling freer than she had in a while, ready to explore the village and set to work helping her boys. She could talk to Hakeez, the woman attempting to rebuild her clothing shop, in order to get materials; she’d helped Tilieth make Link’s tunic, after all. There had to be something Tilieth could offer in return. Perhaps she could make some garments for Hakeez as well?

She found the older Sheikah woman with the young mother who had just given birth recently. The new mother looked exhausted, nearly in tears as Hakeez tried to assure her with an offered baby blanket she clearly had made for her.

“Come on now, Pala, it’ll get better,” Hakeez tried to assure the young woman.

“Mellie just won’t stop crying,” the mother, Pala, lamented.

Tilieth recognized the desperation born from exhaustion, and she quickly stepped up. “Let me help. I can look after Mellie alongside Hakeez so you can get some sleep.”

Pala glanced at her, vaguely recognizing Tilieth from the celebrations the village had held for Mellie’s birth the other day. Hakeez quickly nodded, latching on to the idea. “Yes, we can help! Get some rest, dear, you need it.”

The tired mother didn’t put up much of a fight when a more familiar face made the argument, and Mellie was in Tilieth’s arms in no time, wrapped in the blanket Hakeez had made for her.

“Poor dear,” Hakeez lamented as the two exited the home, Mellie gazing up at Tilieth curiously. Tilieth smiled back at the newborn, admiring her beautiful red eyes, large and innocent as they were, light skin unblemished by the sun and not carrying a care in the world.

It was amazing, really, looking at such new life in such a broken world. In the chaos of Tilieth’s life, just holding the baby and standing there, rocking gently, gazing down at her, brought the tired woman some peace of her own.

Memories of her own children flooded her mind and heart, when she’d held Link for the first time, when her first few months with him were harrowing and exhausting, when Lyra made even more of a fuss than her brother at the same age.

She remembered Abel being there to help, having requested time home from the military, supporting her every step of the way.

Tilieth bit her lip, holding the baby close, closing her eyes and just soaking up the moment, remembering the love she had for her family and how much they loved her in return.

“Are you alright?” Hakeez asked quietly.

Tilieth exhaled slowly, swallowing the lump in her throat and smiling a little and nodding. The craftswoman continued to talk, then, being rather chatty and not wishing to stand in silence for so long. She cooed at the little newborn in Tilieth’s arms a moment before telling her about how she had made more clothes for the village. She did lament, though, that it was difficult trying to reestablish bartering and trade; money was rather meaningless within the village, and sometimes people’s offers of trade for her clothes were not what she’d hope for.

“What exactly do you need?” Tilieth asked, latching on to the topic as Mellie slept in her arms.

“Honestly, what I need is some of that stamina elixir that Kollin seems to know how to make,” Hakeez snorted. “I swear he hoards it for himself and his fiancée.”

Tilieth glanced at the seamstress, gleaning who it could be, confirming, “Lady Impa is engaged to Kollin?”

Hakeez nodded dismissively, sighing. “The point is that I’m always worn out and could use some of that stamina elixir.”

Well, if Tilieth wanted Hakeez’s help with supplies to make new clothes for Abel, she supposed she’d start there. Glancing down at Mellie to confirm she was still asleep, Tilieth headed towards Lady Impa’s abode, though she opted to stop by the inn first to check on her family once more.

The innkeeper, Liyah, looked a little surprised at the bundle in Tilieth’s arms, and then she chuckled. “Did poor Pala need a break?”

Tilieth smiled and nodded. “I didn’t mind. She looked pretty haggard.”

“The first one is always the hardest,” Liyah commented.

Tilieth bit her lip, thinking of her two children, and she looked at Link. Yes, it was certainly an adjustment when he’d been a baby, though Lyra had certainly been fussier.

Goddess, she missed those days.

Link was sleeping peacefully as usual, and, for once, Abel was still managing to rest as well. Mellie stirred, grunting a little, and Tilieth made a hasty retreat before the newborn could wake either of them. The little one’s wails caught the attention of one of the guards stationed in front of Lady Impa’s estate, and Tilieth recognized him as the child’s father. After quickly reassuring the worried man, Tilieth suggested that the little one probably needed a diaper change.

The guard blinked, looking anxious. Tilieth had to laugh at him, wondering if he’d even cleaned the baby up yet or if it had all been Pala. It was no wonder the poor woman was overwhelmed; at least Abel had helped. Though Tilieth supposed Abel had been staying home full time while this man was still working, but…

“Why don’t I show you how to do it?” She offered, tilting her head to the side.

“I—well, I don’t know, Pala—”

“Is exhausted,” Tilieth cut in. “It wouldn’t be a bad idea to help her sometimes, you know. Mellie needs both her parents’ love and care.”

The guard deflated, relenting. Tilieth forgot all her worries as she spent the next ten minutes trying not to laugh at the man dry heaving while cleaning his little girl’s mess.

Men were so silly sometimes. They could handle blood and gore of the battlefield, but a soiled diaper was too much for some of them. Abel had muscled his way through it with Link, but Tilieth could tell the first few times he’d been similarly uneasy.

Mellie seemed much happier in her father’s arms afterward, and his partner at their post said he would watch for a while so the man could be with his baby girl. Tilieth took the opportunity to head inside the chief’s estate, feeling a little satisfied that she’d helped the guard and his wife.

She hadn’t expected to see Sheik inside.

“—should tell them already, this is—”

“What difference does it make?” Sheik hissed, body language tight and defensive as she crossed her arms so tightly she might as well have been hugging herself. “I have my path and he—”

Sheik cut herself off as she caught sight of Tilieth. Her face was still hidden, but Tilieth could imagine her cheeks were flushed with how worked up she seemed to be.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude,” Tilieth said carefully, feeling guilty. She’d gotten so used to just wandering the village, she really should have knocked.

“Yet you did,” Sheik snapped, eyes narrowing.

“That’s enough,” Lady Impa said sharply. “We’ll continue this discussion later.”

The Sheikah warrior sighed, the fight draining out of here, and she walked by Tilieth without another word, exiting the building.

“Is everything all right?” Tilieth asked quietly. She supposed it really wasn’t her business, but if she could help at all, she wanted to offer. Lady Impa had done so much for her and her family, after all.

The chief seemed to debate something, watching Tilieth for a long moment, before she looked away. “Some matters simply must resolve themselves. How can I help you, Tilieth? Is Sir Abel alright?”

“Yes, he’s fine right now,” Tilieth hastily answered, embarrassed she’d seemingly pushed herself into Sheikah affairs. “I just… I was looking for Kollin. Not—not for Link or Abel, but I wanted to see if I could get a stamina elixir for Hakeez.”

Lady Impa raised an eyebrow. “What does Hakeez want with a stamina elixir?”

“I’m assuming she wants to not be tired,” Tilieth chuckled a little, lightening up. “I just want to make a tunic for Abel, but I need something to trade to get materials.”

Before she could stop herself, she added, “Speaking of Kollin, though, I didn’t realize you two were engaged! You two seem like you have a good chemistry with each other. When are you getting married?”

Lady Impa blinked a moment, eyebrows rising, before she giggled, growing somewhat bashful. “Oh. Well, thank you. I… we haven’t decided yet. We only got engaged pretty recently.”

Tilieth wished she could be there for it, but she knew that wasn’t likely to happen. Instead, she said, “Well, I wish you two all the best and happiness in the world. You deserve it.”

“You’re too kind,” Lady Impa quickly dismissed politely. “But if you’re searching for Kollin, he’s likely up by the fairy spring. It’s just beyond the shrine.”

Ah, yes, the spring that the villagers kept talking about. Perhaps the water did indeed having healing properties. She hadn’t given any to Link yet, so she hadn’t been sure.

Wait… fairy spring?

“He might be trying to talk to… well… a Great Fairy lives there,” Lady Impa explained. “But her power is dependent on rupees, and we hardly have any. She can still sometimes emerge, and Kollin tries to pay his respects.”

“Can she heal Link?” Tilieth immediately asked. “I’ll give her all the rupees we’ve found!”

Lady Impa watched her sadly. “I don’t think so. She can summon fairies, but I don’t think Cotera can actually heal anyone. But I suppose it’s worth asking, now that his wounds are not as dire as they used to be.”

Tilieth hastened outside, not waiting a moment longer for explanation, though she at least threw a hasty thanks over her shoulder.

It didn’t take long to reach the spring she’d passed a couple times by now, and she wondered why she hadn’t been told of this sooner. All the Sheikah seemed a little cagey on the matter, as if they wanted to protect Cotera, but it wasn’t as if Tilieth could possibly hurt a Great Fairy.

She supposed perhaps they worried Abel might try, to help Link. Honestly, at this rate, she wouldn’t put it passed him.

But there shouldn’t be a need for such force or concern! Great Fairies were powerful magical creatures, surely she could help Link somehow!

Kollin stood before the strange looking bud Tilieth had seen before, and she slid to a halt, catching his attention.

“Is that the Great Fairy?” She asked, curious and confused. “Is she in there?”

Kollin looked a bit startled, and he hesitated to respond. Tilieth was about to plead when he finally admitted, “Yes, but she hardly comes out anymore. We don’t have much to offer.”

“I have rupees!” Tilieth hastily said, pulling out all three hundred that she’d collected. “Take them!”

The bud made a strange noise, dark and even ominous sounding, and Tilieth immediately retracted her arms, nervous.

“Don’t be afraid, dear girl,” the voice spoke, sounding distorted. “Please, help me restore my power.”

Kollin smiled reassuringly. “I promise it’s safe. Please, let me see the rupees. I think she usually asks for one hundred.”

“Yes, yes, a mere one hundred rupees is all I require!” The supposed Great Fairy agreed.

Tilieth wasn’t entirely sure she trusted the voice, but she did trust Kollin, so she carefully handed the money over to him. A large hand reached out of the bud, snatching it and nearly knocking Kollin over, and Tilieth gasped, growing more scared by the moment. The voice made a sound of delight before the bud opened with a squeal, releasing puffs of pink smoke and blinding Tilieth. When she blinked her eyes open, she was dazzled by the sight of an enormous woman half submerged in water, adorned in shells and jewels, fairy wings peeking out from behind her ears.

Tilieth stared, amazed, mouth open.

“Oh, what a feeling!” The Great Fairy exclaimed, stretching and smiling. “That first breath of fresh air after such a long time of decay… it’s just so intoxicating!”

The fairy turned her eyes to Tilieth, leaning over a little and smiling serenely. “Thanks to you, I’ve been returned to my former glory. And as they say—one good turn deserves another. I can help you—”

“My son!” Tilieth immediately interjected, desperation pushing through her fear. “My son is grievously wounded, please, can you heal him?”

The Great Fairy gasped a little. “Oh, my. My dear girl, I wish that I could – perhaps my children can assist you?”

Tilieth wilted, already knowing that regular fairies were incapable of fixing the matter. The Great Fairy seemed to read that, and Kollin replied, “They haven’t been able to help, I’m afraid. But if you can summon them, I would like to have a few ready to assist my people and any traveler who passes through.”

“Of course,” Cotera replied. She raised a hand, and within seconds fairies seemed to materialize from the sky like snow petals, gently descending, wings flapping peacefully. Kollin bottled a few, thanking the Great Fairy once more, and then passed Tilieth, patting her on the shoulder sympathetically.

Tilieth stood alone, overwhelmed and upset, hope dashed once more, and she shivered as a drizzle started to speckle the area.

“Oh, dear girl,” the Great Fairy looked her over, eyes sad. “I may not be able to heal your boy, but let me help you in other ways. Allow me to enhance your clothing. It’s the least I can do, but I will need the necessary materials.”

Tilieth looked up to stare at the magical creature once more. Enhance her clothes?

“You see, I can increase their abilities to protect, or enhance inherent gifts,” Cotera explained.

But that meant— “Can you help me protect Link?”

“Of course,” Cotera answered gently. “Bring me his clothing and I can ensure he is safer than before.”

That was all Tilieth needed to hear before she was rushing down the hill back into the village. When she entered the inn, though, she immediately realized that Abel was awake and trying to ignore the innkeeper’s words.

“—all right, dear, your family is fine—”

“Abel!” Tilieth called, running to her husband as his eyes locked with hers. Abel reached out shakily, and Tilieth dragged him into a tight hug, whispering, “It’s okay, love, I’m here. Everyone’s safe, I promise.”

Abel felt heavy in her arms, sagging against her and trembling. He was clearly still exhausted, but he didn’t bother trying to argue any point, simply resting his head against her shoulder, hands grappling weakly on her tunic. He didn’t seem to have any more apologies, having spilled them repeatedly earlier, and Tilieth was honestly thankful for it. Her poor husband had apologized enough.

Tilieth kissed his ear, shifting and trying to get him to settle back down on the pillows. “You need to rest, Abel. Don’t worry about anything, okay?”

She supposed it was silly telling her husband not to worry. But he truly needed to rest – he’d driven himself nearly insane.

Abel watched her uncertainly, turning his head to look at Link. Despite wiggling a little on the mattress in an attempt to get comfortable, he couldn’t quite settle, though. Tilieth sighed, and Abel looked even guiltier for it.

“It’s okay,” she reassured him gently, brushing some hair out of his face. “It’s okay. Why don’t we get you cleaned up?”

If he wasn’t going to sleep, he could at least rest. Tilieth would make sure of it. She advised Abel to stay put while she stripped Link of his tunic and trousers, leaving him bundled under some blankets, before guiding her husband to stand.

Abel was shaky on his feet, but he followed his wife wherever she went, letting her wrap an arm around his waist.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered as they exited the inn.

“No more apologies,” Tilieth said firmly. “What happened is over, Abel—”

Her husband stiffened, looking at her and digging his heels into the ground. “I hurt you.”

“Yes, and then you hurt yourself,” Tilieth fired back. “Honey, I… you have to let me help you. It won’t get any better if you don’t.”

“But I—”

“You are exhausted,” she cut in, putting a hand on his cheek to settle him. “Honey, can’t you see that running away or beating yourself up about it will only make it worse?”

Tears were evident in her husband’s eyes, but he held them in, looking away and kissing her palm. When she got no further argument from him, Tilieth guided him outside of the village. Neither really knew what to say or if anything should be said as they moved. Tilieth was trying to figure out if she could even start confronting what had happened. She was afraid her words would fail her, that she would somehow make things worse, but she knew she was far more emotionally intelligent than her husband and they truly needed to address it. But Abel needed a moment to rest first. The bath would be good for that.

But first, they had to take care of helping Link. Tilieth wasn’t going to keep a Great Fairy waiting.

The fairy fountain was empty when Tilieth arrived, making her heart plummet. Had the Great Fairy left?

“What is this?” Abel asked, distracted. He watched it cautiously, but also with fascination – he too was taken in by the beauty of the place. His eyes also immediately caught sight of the fairies floating around. “Til, is… is this…?”

“A fairy fountain,” Tilieth finished for him, trying not to sound as disappointed as she felt.

The water in the fountain rustled, making both of them jump, and then Cotera burst forth with an excited cry. Abel instinctively pushed Tilieth behind him, reaching for a weapon he wasn’t armed with, and Til tried to calm her husband hastily.

“It’s all right!” She said as the Great Fairy tilted her head to the side.

“Oh, you brought a friend!” The Great Fairy noted, intrigued. “He’s cute!”

Abel stammered, blushing, not expecting the remark. Tilieth laughed, but then she walked around her husband to offer the clothes. “Please, can you bless these? They’re my son’s.”

Cotera leaned over, examining the items. “Oh, yes, I should be able to. I only require a few items to do so.”

After hearing the listed items, Tilieth dug through her bag worriedly, and with great relief realized she had all the necessary ones. Abel looked between his wife and the Great Fairy, bemused, and watched as the large mystical woman received the offerings.

“I didn’t even realize there was a Great Fairy here,” Abel muttered. He looked shyly at Cotera, seeming a little apologetic.

Cotera looked at the clothes, smiled, and nodded, telling Tilieth to place them on the mushroom pedestal in front of her. The couple stood, waiting, and then the Great Fairy…

Blew a kiss on them?

Tilieth could feel a strange sensation, like warmth and tingling and energy, and she knew it had to be magic, could even see it in the air. But the manner in which it was delivered…

Cotera giggled in delight and then dove back into the water.

“What… just happened.” Abel said, monotone denoting a mixture of horror and confusion.

Tilieth hesitantly knelt down to examine the clothes. They didn’t look any different… but the magic had been there nonetheless. Surely it had to have done something.

“These magical creatures can be fickle,” Abel said quietly, kneeling down beside her. “Are you sure she didn’t just take your offerings and leave?”

“I saw the magic,” Tilieth argued mildly, hand running over the threads of the tunic. “Didn’t you?”

“I suppose,” Abel replied quietly, sounding dubious.

Tilieth bit her lip uncertainly. “Well… maybe we should just… well, we shouldn’t bother her, I guess. Let’s just get to the bathing area.”

Abel didn’t argue, seeming resigned to the matter. He grew quiet once more as they climbed the hill to the pond in question. Tilieth helped her husband strip down and ease into the water, exposing injuries old and new.

Tilieth’s hand traced an old scar on the back of his shoulder, and he shivered a little.

“I can bathe myself,” he finally spoke up, though his voice was still soft.

“I want to help,” Tilieth said firmly. Because that was what this was about, after all – Abel kept refusing help, continued to push himself to the point of collapse and near insanity.

It had to stop. She had already resolved she could be strong enough for everyone for a short while, long enough for Abel to get a little better.

Abel sighed, giving up.

The couple was quiet as Tilieth helped him bathe. She wasn’t entirely sure how to start the conversation of addressing what had happened, worried that he would just shut it down or she wouldn’t know what to say. Slowly, Abel started to lean back against her, letting her hold him, letting himself rest. He closed his eyes, calloused hands reaching up to gently hold her wrists as she wrapped her arms around his chest.

Tilieth finally found her voice. “What happened, Abel?”

Her husband grew tense in her hold, eyes opening, though he refused to make eye contact.

“The last thing I remember was that you had said you would sleep, and you didn’t,” she continued. “You snuck off to Hyrule Field of all places. I was so worried.”

Her husband’s face grew stony, eyes gazing off somewhere she couldn’t reach. She was worried he wouldn’t speak at all, and after a minute or so that seemed the case.

“I saw a guardian,” he finally admitted, so quietly she almost missed it.

Tilieth felt her blood freeze.

“It wasn’t real,” her husband added with a breathy, morose laugh. “I… Tilieth, I… I saw a guardian that wasn’t there, and I hurt you as a result. I’m… it isn’t safe to be around me.”

Tilieth tried to catch her breath, to make her heart rate slow down after the mere thought of a guardian being anywhere near her or her family. She swallowed thickly, moving forward to hold him again as if to prove him wrong.

Finally, she said, “The only thing… that isn’t safe… is you not sleeping.”

“I don’t think it’s that simple,” Abel replied darkly.

Tilieth bit her tongue. No, perhaps it wasn’t. But that was the best way she could fix it right now. Lack of sleep had sent him over the edge.

But the truth of the matter was that there was clearly something wrong that sleep deprivation could lead to such a disastrous night. And, even worse, his choices as a result of that night.

Abel took a shaky breath. “My entire life… I… I’ve always had to take care of my family. But lately, I… Til, there comes a time when your usefulness is at an end.”

Tilieth swallowed, trying to argue, eyes widening with alarm.

Abel sighed, rinsing some soap off his shoulder. “I can finish up, love. Please… go back to the village.”

“No.” Her voice came out stronger than she anticipated, stubborn and hurt and scared and angry.

Abel stiffened, very obviously trying to keep his breathing even. His cheeks flushed, but his face grew cold, like it always did when he was getting frustrated.

“You’re sick,” Tilieth spat out. “You’re sick, and you’re hurt, and hurting, and—I’m not leaving you.”

“So I can get you killed too?” Abel hissed, turning sharply in the water, splashing the area around them so he could face her.

“You didn’t get anyone killed—”

“I told Link to go to Fort Hateno!” Abel yelled, rising. The area grew quiet as the birds flew away in fright, as Tilieth stared at him, speechless. “All those years ago—during the Calamity… I—I told him to go to Fort Hateno, that I would meet him there, and it got him almost killed! And then when the Shrine of Resurrection was his last hope—”

“Abel, the Shrine wasn’t your fault!” Tilieth interrupted desperately. “None of it was! You had no way of knowing—”

“What kind of father am I, that I couldn’t protect my children?!” Abel argued, tears starting to slide down his cheeks, voice shaking. “What kind of husband am I that I hit my own wife?! What kind of knight am I, that I murder my own people, that I fail to protect my king, that—”

Tilieth moved towards him hastily, holding him close as his words dissolved into sobs. Her own body trembled, mind whirling, wondering desperately how she could reach him when he had managed to get so far out of reach.

How long had he been stewing in this misery, she wondered? And why couldn’t she better help him?

It doesn’t matter, she tried to tell herself. I can’t change what was, only what is.

“You’re only Hylian,” she finally whispered, her own voice trembling as well. “You’re only Hylian, love. You’re doing your best. Sometimes we all falter.”

Abel scoffed, pushing her away. “Sometimes. Sometimes! My failures are constant—”

“You got us to Kakariko safely!” Tilieth stood up, voice strengthening, fists balling. “You protected us the entire journey from the Great Plateau, you’re single-handedly responsible for getting most of the spirit orbs that have been healing Link! You protect me for ten years! You served the kingdom faithfully! Do you really think you could’ve single-handedly stopped the Calamity? Even Link couldn’t, even the Princess couldn’t!”

Her words cut into him, which was apparent from how he flinched. Tilieth honestly wasn’t sure she’d ever yelled at her husband. Her heart was racing, her blood was surging through her, heartbeat drumming in her ears. She was terrified, but she was so frustrated—why couldn’t her beloved just listen to her?!

But the anger seeped out of her quickly. The tears returned, and she started to tremble, strength leaving her alongside her ire. “Can’t you see, Abel? Can’t you see that the only way you’re making things worse is by trying to fight me on this? The only way you can truly hurt us is by leaving us, by hurting yourself the way you are. You’re not perfect, love, none of us are. The only way we can make it though this is with faith in the goddess’ protection and trust in each other.”

Pain was evident on her husband’s face, and he took a small step back, seeming to shrivel into himself as the fight drained out of him. He looked down, ashamed. “I can’t even trust myself.”

“You don’t have to,” Tilieth whispered gently, kneeling down to be at eye level with him as he sank back into the water. She cupped his face with her hands, making him look at her. “Trust me. Don’t you trust me to take care of you?”

Abel’s lips twitched like he was going to argue further, but he thought better of it, sighing and leaning his head forward until their foreheads touched.

“I know you’re sorry,” Tilieth said before he could even try to apologize again, a small smile pulling at her lips.

Abel huffed a wet laugh, shivering and moving forward to hug her again.

Tilieth held him for what felt like an eternity, yet it still didn’t feel like long enough. Eventually, though, the coolness of the water made her husband start to shake, teeth chattering. She didn’t say anything else, out of words and exhausted, but hopeful as well. It seemed like she might have gotten through to him. Abel, for his part, also seemed too worn out to speak anymore.

It wasn’t much, but it was progress, and it gave her hope. Perhaps they could stop lingering on what had happened, then, and start to move on.

Tilieth helped Abel climb out of the water, wrapping him in a towel and holding him again so he could warm up. He rested his chin on her shoulder, leaning his head against hers, no longer fighting the matter at all. However, just as she finished drying him off and was reaching for his clothes, he said softly, “That platform… it looks like a shrine.”

Confused, Tilieth turned to look at the strange platform that she’d noticed when she’d bathed Link earlier in the day. She… supposed the color scheme was similar, but it looked nothing like a shrine, to be honest.

But Abel seemed transfixed now, eyes alight with thoughts. Tilieth let him stew on the matter a moment, more concerned about getting him dressed so he wouldn’t be cold. When she prompted him to put the clothes on, though, he continued, “Wait… the item… that orb in Impa’s home…”

Orb? There was an orb? “Honey, what are you talking about?”

Abel rose, heading towards the bridge to get back to the village, and Tilieth hastily got in his way. “Abel, get dressed!”

Her husband paused, distracted, only realizing then that he was still just in a towel, and hastily put his clothes on. Then he moved with purpose, Tilieth trailing behind him worriedly. He needed to rest, whatever this was about could wait—

Oh, who was she kidding? Abel was nothing if not persistent when he was on a quest. It was where Link got his stubbornness from. At least he was focusing on helping the family and not running away. But she would make him sleep once he’d settled the matter in his mind.

They moved hastily to Lady Impa’s abode, and the Sheikah chief looked surprised to see Abel there. Before she could get a word in, though, he pointed to something in the corner, and Tilieth felt herself gasp a little as she caught sight of it.

Honestly, she hadn’t noticed it before, but the orb did match the platform perfectly.

“We need that,” Abel said, voice not quite as firm as it usually was, but commanding nonetheless.

“I—what?” Lady Impa looked between the glowing ball and Abel. “I’m sorry, but that is a Sheikah heirloom, you can’t have that. It’s been guarded by my ancestors for centuries.”

“Yes, probably millennia,” Abel insisted. “It has to do with the shrines, don’t you see that? There’s a platform where you can place it by your bathing area.”

Impa blinked, stuttering, before looking quickly between the orb and the knight once more. “Wh—I—but—”

To his credit, Abel was patient, lowering his arm and waiting for her to parse it out. Tilieth gasped as she realized it too. “Do you think it’s a puzzle of some sort for the shrine?”

Lady Impa sighed, easing herself to the cushion on the ground as she pondered the matter. “All our research on ancient Sheikah tech and I… really just had this right here in my family’s estate…”

Abel shifted, very clearly trying to hold himself back. “So… may we use it?”

The Sheikah chief rubbed her face a moment before rising and nodding, eyes firm. “I’ll go with you.”

The chief picked up the large orb, refusing to let Abel touch it, but she followed them as they made their way back to the bathing spring. Tilieth’s mind was whirling, but she felt pride in her husband swell in her as well.

The pride grew tenfold, mixing with relief and cheer, as Lady Impa placed the orb in a perfectly carved hole, and a shrine appeared from the earth.

“You really should give yourself more credit, love,” Tilieth said gently, putting a hand on his arm. “Even in your hurt and anguish, you still help us.”

Abel chewed the inside of his cheek, and she knew he was doing that to fight to maintain composure in front of Lady Impa. He was far too tired to succeed very well, though.

“This is amazing,” Lady Impa breathed, awed. “I—we should get Link right away!”

“Yes, we should,” Tilieth agreed, before turning to Abel. “But I want you to go back to the inn and rest, please. Lady Impa and I can handle this shrine.”

Abel’s face paled, eyes widening, before he stopped himself entirely from arguing. Looking defeated, he nodded, and the group made their way back to the village. When the chief rushed inside the inn, Tilieth pulled Abel aside outside the door so they had a moment alone, and she kissed him tenderly.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, looking him in the eye. “I just want you to rest. Please, Abel. Trust me. It’s the only way you’re going to get better.”

Impa let out a yelp from inside, and Abel and Tilieth rushed indoors in an instant to find the Sheikah chief blushing.

“I didn’t realize he was just in his underwear,” the chief waved off with an embarrassed laugh.

Tilieth couldn’t help her own cackling. “I got his clothes blessed by the Great Fairy. Here, let me get him dressed and we can get going.”

She gave one last look to her husband, who looked mildly amused, and kissed his cheek, guiding him to bed before turning her attention to Link. They’d get him to the shrine as the sun was descending towards the horizon, which meant she had just enough time afterward to make dinner for her family and make some clothes for Abel.

Considering how the day had started, this was an enormous improvement, and she thanked Hylia for it.

Abel sat on the bed, watching Tilieth dress their child, and leaned against the pillows reluctantly as she and Impa left.

And then there was silence in the building.

Abel shifted a little, uncomfortable and anxious. He didn’t want Tilieth and Link going to a shrine without him. But he also knew he was in no state to be helpful to anyone. He still had half a mind to try and leave again, but he knew that was irrational fear talking, desperation and panic driven from exhaustion and—

He still couldn’t believe what had happened. Of course he was terrified, he’d—

What sort of monster was he, anyway? And how was it fair in any way for Tilieth to have to clean up the mess he’d made? He was a grown man, he should’ve kept himself in check, should’ve realized that—

Abel let out a shaky breath, burying his face in his hands as he curled in on himself. Then he heard a foot rustle across wood, and he bolted to his feet, eyes alert.

An older woman gasped a little, holding her hands up. Ah. It was the innkeeper. He couldn’t quite remember her name, though.

“It’s just me, it’s all right,” she insisted gently. “Why don’t you try to get some sleep? You were resting quite well earlier.”

There was no way he would be able to sleep knowing that Link and Tilieth were exploring a shrine without him. Those things were dangerous. Abel didn’t bother replying, not wanting to be rude, but not really knowing what to say aside from no. He didn’t have the energy to really care about pleasantries. At least he wasn’t being irritable, he supposed.

He wished time could just… stop. That they could use the Sheikah slate’s time magic to stop everything, for at least a week. He felt like he could sleep a month, honestly, if he knew nothing would happen or change in that time.

But that was a fool’s wish. Time didn’t stop for anyone. Anxiety gripped at him once more, making his chest tight. He needed to do something.

Glancing around, he noticed the innkeeper had started sweeping the floor when he’d been silent in response to her. He felt bad for ignoring her, and he really needed to move. “Can… may I do that?”

The innkeeper glanced up at him, a little surprised. “Do… you want to sweep? Oh, young man, I appreciate your offer, but—”

“Please,” Abel interrupted, getting somewhat desperate. If he didn’t have something to do he knew he’d just leave this place altogether. “I… I can’t just stay in bed. Put me to work, please.”

The innkeeper watched him a moment and then sighed, face sympathetic. “All right, dear. But on one condition.”

Abel perked up, listening.

“If you get tired, you have to take a break,” the innkeeper said gravely, finger in the air to emphasize her point. “You’re supposed to be resting, after all. You’ve had a harrowing time lately.”

Yes, he supposed the innkeeper had seen the majority of his outbursts. Abel felt himself blush in shame, looking at his feet, but he nodded in agreement nonetheless. The innkeeper handed her broom off to him, allowing him to sweep the floor in peace.

The repetitive motion brought some calm to his mind, and he was grateful for it. He wondered if this was why Tilieth liked to clean sometimes, though he knew she was happiest wandering outside.

He tried not to think about the events of the early morning, but it was hard not to. Now that he’d gotten a bit of sleep and time to think about it…

He didn’t know. He still wasn’t entirely sure it had been a mistake to try and leave. He hadn’t been intent on hurting himself, but given the choice between eliminating himself from the equation and potentially hurting Tilieth or Link further, the decision had been very easy.

Abel paused, growing a little breathless. Was he tired, or was he overwhelmed?

What kind of weakling am I, that I cannot handle this anymore?

You’re only Hylian, his wife’s voice whispered back. Even the Princess herself couldn’t stop the Calamity.

Abel wasn’t trying to stop the Calamity, he was trying to save Link! But he couldn’t even hold himself together anymore!

He couldn’t do everything, but Tilieth couldn’t either. He couldn’t rely on her to take care of him and Link.

Was this simply pride? Or was Abel correct, knowing tha the should be stronger than this? When Tilieth had gotten ill all those years ago, he’d taken care of Link and had gone on a mission to Zora’s Domain, fulfilling his duty, financially supporting his family, and raising their son while Tilieth recovered in Hateno. Yet now…

Tilieth was asking for the same, was asking to take care Abel and Link so he could recover.

Could he recover?

Despair filled him for a moment, and he choked it down viciously, sweeping the floor once more and ramming the broom into the wall. His grip on the item trembled, and he stopped.

“Sir Abel,” the innkeeper said gently.

Abel felt anger rise in him, but he bit back whatever scalding remark was fighting its way out. He didn’t know how to stop this.

Have faith in the goddess. Trust in each other.

Abel scowled.

Faith in the goddess. What sort of faith could he have in someone who had abandoned her people? Had she abandoned the princess too? Was that why the young girl had been incompetent?

But do you not trust Tilieth?

He needed to lay down. The world was spinning. He wanted to go to sleep and never wake up.

Sighing, Abel dragged his feet over to the bed. This was a nightmare and he didn’t know how to escape it. Tilieth’s words rattled in his mind once more, and he realized it truly was just a choice. He would feel the same either way, but he had to choose to trust his wife. Either he would be miserable and alone, or miserable with her.

But what if he hurt her again? What if he hurt Link?

They were wasting time here in the village, and it was his fault. No matter what he did, it… if he tried to leave again, Tilieth would track him down. It would be ceaseless, and Link would die. Abel had to… had to…

Funny, how Tilieth had wanted to separate but refused to do so now. Abel felt bitterness and frustration rise in his gut, and he tried to let it go.

The door to the inn opened, and he saw Tilieth returning, triumphant, as Impa carried Link indoors.

“Oh, honey, it was great!” Tilieth said excitedly, rushing over to him. “You solved the puzzle and we didn’t even have to do anything! We got in there and it was just the monk and an opal.”

Abel stared, thinking about it. That had… never happened.

Goddesses… were they getting an actual reprieve for once?

“That’s… good,” he offered hesitantly, watching Impa put Link in the bed next to him.

“It’s great!” Tilieth insisted, hands clasped together before she hugged him. Abel tried to return the gesture, but his wife was too excited and pulled away quickly. “Oh, I have to make dinner, and—will you watch Link, dear?”

Abel nodded mutely, and Tilieth was out the door in an instant. Her cheer was a little infectious, he supposed, pulling a small smile on one side of his lips. Then he slowly dragged himself over to Link’s bed, pulling the boy to him and laying down as Impa turned to leave.

Before the Sheikah chief could depart, though, Abel asked, “Who were those people? From this morning. The ones who attacked us. They didn’t dress like Yiga.”

Lady Impa paused, hugging herself uncertainly. “I… don’t know. They bore something akin to the Yiga symbol on their foreheads, but like you said, they… didn’t dress like them. I’ve never encountered those people before.”

Abel swallowed, holding Link closer. “Very well.”

There was silence between the two, heavy and awkward given their last conversation, and Abel finally said, “Thank you for keeping her safe.”

“I’ll always protect your family,” Impa insisted calmly, with conviction, facing him fully. “Including you, Sir Abel. I’m glad we found you in time.”

Abel huffed, only mildly annoyed.

“Please rest, good knight,” Impa said. “I will pray for your recovery. And it will happen. I’ve seen it in other members of my tribe. The Calamity left scars on us all. You have to allow yourself to heal. Tilieth is more than willing to help.”

Abel stared at the wall, unable to face the chief, feeling like a fool, like a child lost in Castle Town’s bustling atmosphere, freshly orphaned and wondering what he was supposed to do now while his sisters cried. He hated feeling this helpless. He nodded, and he heard the chief leave.

The room fell silent. He wondered if the innkeeper was still there, or if she’d stepped out. Link was silent and motionless as usual. Abel felt tempted to rouse him just to see his eyes, just to talk to him, but he figured the boy needed rest more than he did. So he simply kissed his head and closed his eyes.

He didn’t know what the future would bring. But he knew this respite couldn’t last, no matter what choice he made. They would have to leave tomorrow. But for tonight, he wouldn’t think about any of it, even if that went against every fiber of his being.

Recovery was a choice. Trust was a choice. Tilieth made that choice as she prayed outside at the Hylia statue while the food simmered in the cooking pot. Abel made that choice as he tried to sleep, disregarding Link wiggling in the bed, listening to the crickets peek out and start their symphony of the night.

Trust was a choice. He would try to make it.

He would try.

Chapter Text

Noise and cold. The world was nothing but that.

Ashen, crimson, poisoned fumes, tearing the sky apart.

But warmth, gold, light.

Love, memory, courage.

Energy, magic, power.

Discipline, studies, wisdom.

Time sped. Time slowed. All that was known was time passed.

Teeth bit. Gold didn’t yield.

All that mattered was to hold the line. All that mattered was—

Destruction. Damage. Alarms. Shrine.

Link.

XXX

The night was unseasonably cold. Impa looked out at the moon, hugging herself anxiously.

A flicker of light caught her eye, and she tried to follow it. An ember, perhaps. It didn’t matter.

What mattered was the woman before her, preparing for her journey.

Sheik looked back at her from the bottom of the stairs.

“May Hylia watch over you on your pilgrimage,” Impa said, voice heavy. “May Farore give you courage to endure the trials ahead. May Din give you the power to survive to the end. May Nayru give you the wisdom to see the true path ahead.”

Sheik bowed a little, closing her eyes, and turned to leave. They both knew she wouldn’t be coming back.

“You should see him,” Impa said, her voice barely carrying in the air.

Sheik paused in her gait, considering it, and then moved ahead resolutely.

XXX

Kakariko Village slowly came to life as the sun came up. The innkeeper, Liyah, looked after her one charge, having been tasked with the objective earlier by Tilieth. The mother had wanted to surprise her husband with a tunic she had finished in the night, and Liyah had happily agreed to keep an eye on the Hero.

Liyah had watched Tilieth lead Sir Abel out of the village entirely, and she had smiled knowingly. While the couple was gone, Lady Impa organized for the village to gather provisions for the family.

They all knew their stay was coming to an end.

A short distance from the village, near Lake Siela, Abel and Tilieth enjoyed some time together, but their journey loomed over them as the moment ended. Abel shifted a little, letting Tilieth hold him, keeping each other warm from the chill of the morning air. His new tunic was far thicker than his threadbare one he’d been wearing out over the past decade, and though he knew he didn’t deserve such a gift, he treasured it dearly.

But as he looked down at his wife, kissing her neck, he realized she was still wearing the same fabricated green tunic she had fashioned out of her dress.

Tilieth hummed, opening her brown eyes as she traced her hands up and down along his back and chest. “It fits you well. You look great.”

“You seem to think so,” he replied with a sly smirk.

Tilieth chuckled heartily in reply, and the two exchanged a kiss before pulling apart. Abel added, “But what about you? You made something for me and Link.”

“I’ll see if I can get more materials today,” Tlieth replied with a smile, unperturbed. The couple rose and started to make their way down to the lake to clean up.

Abel’s cheer diminished a little, though the euphoria of such activities with his wife still kept his spirits fairly high. “Til… love, we can’t stay there much longer. Both Link and I have rested. It’s time to go.”

Tilieth glanced at him with an unreadable look as they reached the water. He wasn’t sure what to make of it. But he did know that he wouldn’t try to leave again, even if a small voice in the back of his head still nagged about it. He’d promised himself and Tilieth that he’d try to at least trust his wife to stop him if he spiraled out of control like that again.

The mere thought of it terrified him. But he… he had to try. He knew he did.

“So…” Tilieth trailed off anxiously, not seeming to know how to continue.

Abel figured he knew what she was questioning. The last couple days had thrown everything off, and quite honestly they’d felt like a lifetime. But their original plan had been solid before Abel had ruined everything. “We’ll head to the desert, as you wished. And once we get there…”

“Abel, we—we can’t split up,” Tilieth argued immediately.

Abel sighed. He wasn’t going to argue the fact. “We’ll address it when we get there. That was the plan, anyway.”

Before Tilieth could protest further, assuming she was even going to, movement in the water caught Abel’s attention. He saw an octorok pop up, angry noise accompanying its disdain for any Hylian life around it, but before Abel could say or do anything, Tilieth had fired off an arrow, impaling the pesky creature.

Abel smiled at his wife, impressed. Although he had been the primary hunter and protector over the years, Tilieth had certainly gotten good with a bow. And goddess if she wasn’t especially attractive when she was using it.

Tilieth noticed his expression and giggled, poking him gently with a spare arrow. “Easy, love, we’ve already had all the fun we could. We need to get back to Link.”

Yes, they did. It was about damn time they kept trying to help their boy instead of letting Abel make things worse.

Abel and Tilieth bathed quickly, washing their clothes as they did so. Tilieth fiddled with the slate for a moment and then realized with excitement that a treasure chest was hidden in the water, yanking it out with the magnesis rune. Abel found he couldn’t be exasperated, but he was eerily reminded of her fishing a chest out near Proxim Bridge and all the chaos that had occurred as a result.

It was strange that those events were around a week ago. So much had happened in that time.

It turned out that, for once, Tilieth’s eye for finding random things was actually helpful. This chest contained arrows, and a good handful of them too.

Abel had to wonder where they’d come from.

As the couple passed the time quickly, Tilieth commented that she should bathe Link before they journey for the day, and Abel didn’t bother arguing about losing daylight. He’d hold his tongue for now. Tilieth was technically calling the shots.

At least as long as his sanity would allow it.

The couple made it back to the village by midmorning, and Link was already awake on their arrival.

Abel stared, surprised, before sitting his son up a little to feed him.

“He just woke up on his own,” the innkeeper noted. “So I started telling him everything that had been happening. He hasn’t spoken, though… or, really, even looked at me.”

“That’s normal, I’m afraid,” Tilieth answered to assure the woman. “Thank you for looking after him.”

As Abel helped Link drink some of the stew Tilieth had made for him, he wondered about the route they would take to get to the desert. He remembered that they’d already realized the easiest and safest option would be to retrace their steps and go by the Great Plateau once more. Gerudo Desert would only be a few days away after that.

A week, perhaps, in total. Assuming everything went well.

Link blinked, eyes flickering one way and then another. Abel lowered the now empty bottle a little, leaning in, watching his boy’s gaze. It was erratic, but goddess it almost seemed like he was searching for something.

“Link…?” he whispered quietly, breath frozen in his chest.

Link wrinkled his nose.

And then he sneezed, making Abel jump and almost drop the teenager. The boy flopped against him, eyes still open but far duller. Tilieth laughed.

Abel rolled his eyes. Honestly, that almost felt on purpose. “Yes, yes, very funny.”

Despite his exasperation, he couldn’t help but smile, even chuckle along with his wife. Hylia, Link had come a long way from the purely comatose, bleeding mess they had rescued from the Shrine. It really did feel miraculous.

Abel swallowed, glancing out the window to see the Hylia statue. He still felt angry, but… he didn’t know. He just didn’t know. At this rate, he wasn’t worthy to pray to her anyway. But he did, briefly, offer up a hesitant thanks.

“Okay,” Tilieth chirped happily, clapping her hands. “I’ll carry him up to the bathing hole and you can gather our things and pack the horses for travel?”

Abel nodded, helping her secure Link into the harness on her back. Then he looked around the inn, suddenly feeling overwhelmed as his wife stepped outside.

“I can help,” the innkeeper offered with a kind smile.

Abel felt his cheeks flush in embarrassment. This was silly. He was more than capable of doing this. He just was… anxious after the events of the last couple days. He started to collect things and put them away, letting the innkeeper assist, and he murmured a quiet thank you as he stepped outside.

Lady Impa met him at the stable, bearing a small bag. “My people have supplies for you all. I packed them in here. Would you like them with Epona or Ama?”

“Epona, please,” he answered automatically, a little touched by the gesture. He felt overwhelmed again, and also guilty. Despite his lack of trust in these people, they were doing what they could to help. He remembered Impa’s words from yesterday, of the scars from the Calamity, of a possibility to heal. He sighed. “I… appreciate your help. All of you.”

“I know,” Lady Impa answered simply. “We’ll see you two off. May Hylia watch over you.”

Abel bowed his head slightly in respect, watching Impa walk back down the path. He then grabbed the bandana Tilieth had found in one of the shrines, smiling down at it. His wife had even ensured the tunic she’d made for her husband matched the shades of red on the bandana. He had to admire the handiwork and the loving dedication. It was a near insult to his wife’s talent to wear his threadbare trousers with the ensemble, but he had little choice in the matter. At least Link had managed to get entirely new clothes, though his own Hylian designed tunic was green in its primary color, unlike Abel’s red.

Honestly, Kakariko had been far more healing for his wife and son than he’d realized. It certainly hadn’t been great for him, but…well, nothing was really great for him these days.

Rest, he reminded himself. I have to try to rest.

It would certainly be an interesting endeavor once they hit the road. But he would try. He knew sleeping in shrines was safe, at least.

Tilieth came back fairly quickly with food in her hands. Abel was surprised she’d found time to cook, but she said, “The villagers made this for us! They even packed extra food.”

Abel took the food with a small smile. It… felt nice to be supported.

The villagers lined the path as the couple mounted their horses, Link carefully held in Abel’s secure grip as he guided Ama first. They laid out blue nightshade on the ground as the couple passed, bidding their blessings.

This felt… kind but also unnervingly final, like being in an army marching to war. Abel tried not to worry excessively about it.

As the couple entered the canyon leading out of the village, a strange spark caught Abel’s attention. He tried to trace it in the air, having definitely seen it, but it was blown away in the wind.

Shaking his head, he guided Ama to continue onward. He wanted to cover as much ground as possible – if they moved steadily at a good trot, they could make it to the stable ruins by midafternoon. Then they could let the horses rest, eat something quickly, and make haste to Proxim Bridge. They could likely get close to the Great Plateau by nightfall since they weren’t actively seeking shrines anymore in this area.

Tilieth seemed just as focused as Abel, renewed in strength and determination after their stay in the village. The couple moved swiftly and quietly along the old path, Link bouncing gently against Abel’s chest.

Abel’s estimate turned out correct as the skeletal outline of the Dueling Peaks Stable jutted into the scenery while the sun hung high in the sky. When they reached the river, Tilieth waved cheerily at the family that was trying to maintain what was left of the place. Abel glanced around, old anxieties returning as he saw a couple of people also resting there, but he tried not to be too reactive.

He still pulled Link closer to him, though.

The stablewoman greeted them with a smile. “You’re back! Is your boy any better? He looks a little less pale!”

He… he does? Abel glanced down to see Link awake, eyes passively staring ahead, and it made the man jump a little. When had the boy woken up? They’d fed him breakfast, right? He scrambled to remember, but it seemed it didn’t really take much to rouse the teenager anymore.

He had to almost laugh at it, at the miracle in his arms. He really did almost say a prayer in thanks in that moment.

Tilieth happily slid off her saddle, proudly motioning to Link and Abel. “Yes, they’re both doing better.”

Abel felt his heart warm a little bit, and he finally did chuckle, the sound a little heavy as his throat tightened with emotions.

He didn’t deserve any of his family, really. But he kissed Link’s ear, and the boy sniffled, nose crinkling a little. Abel watched him, whispering his name, the faintest trace of hope twisting in his heart like a silk thread, but Link didn’t react to it.

He tried not to be too disappointed. After all, progress was still progress.

They really needed to find some more shrines. It was too bad they had to retrace their steps. Perhaps they’d find some they missed.

Belatedly, he remembered just how irritating that slate’s tracker was, though. Abel sighed.

A heavy rain started, and the family took shelter in what little covering the demolished stable could provide. The stableman was snoozing, likely having stayed up all night to keep watch, and the stablewoman’s daughter watched Link curiously.

“What’s he looking at?” she asked, and Abel noticed Link was miraculously still awake.

“He… likes to daydream a bit,” Tilieth supplied, brushing damp hair out of Link’s face.

Abel watched his son while Tilieth unpacked some food, but she promised Link she’d tell him all about the last few days when they reached their resting spot for the night. It made Abel pause, and he truly wondered if their son could hear anything at all in his strange magic-induced haze.

For a moment, his heart skipped a beat as his mind whispered that perhaps their son would never be lucid again. Perhaps the shrine would simply bring back a husk of his child, a shadow of the sweet, determined warrior that he used to be. Perhaps his wounds would heal but his mind and heart would not.

Abel bit his tongue, looking away. He refused to indulge in such thoughts. He refused.

Their lunch was brief as the rain let up rather quickly, and Abel was growing restless. The stablewoman and her family were harmless, but he didn’t know the other two Hylians who were there, and they were eying his son far too much.

Tilieth picked up on Abel’s anxiety, and she packed up quietly. Their horses had at least been given enough time to rest that Abel felt confident they could carry them at a steady pace without it being too problematic.

“Oh, you can stay longer if you need to,” the stablewoman noted as they rose and headed for their steeds.

“We’ll be alright, thank you,” Tilieth said with a reassuring smile. “We need to keep moving.”

“You really should stay,” one of the strangers called. “This place is safer than most, especially if your kid’s hurt.”

Abel stiffened a little, Link held carefully in his arms.

“’Sides, there’s a couple villages close by,” the stranger added. “Kakariko Village ain’t too friendly from what I’ve heard, but the other one, Hateno, is starting to grow some crops, so you might be able to get some food there.”

“Hateno doesn’t welcome guests, and the Sheikah are kind of creepy,” the other stranger noted, waving a hand. “Look, if you’re needing a place to stay, your best bet is stables like this.”

Hateno is starting to grow crops? Abel glanced at Tilieth a moment, heart heavy at the implications. She never spoke of how bad it had been in the village, only that a guardian had gotten too close. Obviously he… he’d known the village had been destroyed, given that Tilieth’s father and Lyra…

Tilieth’s words grew quieter, and she struggled to reply at all, so Abel stepped up for her. “We’ll be fine.”

The couple went to their horses and left.

Tilieth’s head hung as they moved side by side, and Abel occasionally glanced at her, trying to think of what they could discuss to distract her. He smiled a little, saying, “This new tunic is great for the chill, love. Thank you again for making it. I’m sure Link appreciates it too.”

It wasn’t a lie. He wasn’t shivering like he would on and off when it drizzled. The layers were certainly helpful. If only Abel knew how to work leather, he could make a pauldron and chest guard, at least for Link if not for both of them, or even Tilieth as well. But sadly, the main work he could do with his hands had to do with fighting.

It was what he’d been trained for his entire life, after all.

Tilieth smiled a little, glancing at him out of the side of her eye, but she didn’t quite seem fully cheered up. As Abel scrambled to figure out what else to say (he really wasn’t good at using his words to help in matters), Tilieth sighed. “It’s okay, Abel. I… I know that I… can’t keep running from what happened.”

Abel stiffened a little. “Til, we don’t have to talk about what happened.”

“Avoiding it led to…” Tilieth trailed off, looking away, and Abel felt guilt crush him into the saddle. His wife took a steadying breath and she looked ahead once more, sitting up a little. “I… I have to face it eventually. But… it’s good to hear things are growing there again.”

He didn’t push. Her discussing this was more than she’d ever done willingly. Instead, he just watched her silently before looking at the trail ahead.

There was someone ahead, laying across the road. Abel stiffened immediately, pulling back on the reins, and Tilieth gasped as she noticed them too. She guided Epona ahead, though, despite Abel calling after her.

Biting back frustration, he goaded Ama to trot, catching up to his wife as she worriedly leapt off to check on the stranger.

“Are you okay?” Tilieth asked, shaking the person. “Abel, they’re freezing—”

“They’re dead,” Abel said abruptly, noticing the dried blood, the stripped bag, the stillness of the person’s back, the mottling of their fingers, and—

Leaves rustled, and Abel drew his sword in an instant, pushing Ama forward so she slammed into whatever was moving. His horse whinnied in protest, anxious and shifting backwards, nearly bucking Abel and Link off the saddle, but the bandit she’d just hit was on the ground, drawn sword knocked out of her hand.

The sword had dried blood on it.

Abel called to Tilieth, who rushed over to grab Link as he jumped off the saddle. “Ride ahead, get him out of here! I’ll catch up!”

Thankfully, she didn’t argue. Tilieth grunted a little as she struggled to hold Link tightly before pushing Ama into a near canter, leaving Abel, Epona, and the bandit behind.

The woman grunted, clearly injured from Ama’s assault, but she tried to push herself to stand. Abel raised his blade, ready to finish her off.

This isn’t right. She’s been incapacitated.

Since when did that matter?

Abel held his blade high, ready to strike. It would be quick and clean.

Do you really want to murder someone else?

This wasn’t murder, she’d killed this person!

You don’t know that.

Abel bit his lip, slowly lowering his blade. He didn’t like this. But he’d give her one chance.

Just one.

He wouldn’t exactly make it easy for her, though.

Instead of cutting off her head, Abel aimed for her sword hand. Her screams barely registered, but he felt his stomach knot nonetheless.

It’s safer this way, he reasoned. It was strange that it bothered him now, when the other day…

He hated that any of this was necessary. Ten years ago, he’d be defending…

He’d be defending the dead man on the road, not the woman who had killed him.

But ten years ago, she probably wouldn’t have needed to be a bandit.

The world rocked a little, and Abel blinked, confused. That… what had…?

The ground shook again, alongside the sound of thunder. Abel looked up, but the sky was only a little overcast.

Then he heard a squeal, a bokoblin shrieking up ahead.

Up ahead.

“Tilieth!” he called, leaping up onto Epona and making her rush forward at a full gallop. By the time he reached his wife, though, she was glaring at a pile of rubble and a few bits of dark magic trailing up into the sky. “What happened?!”

Tilieth yelped, turning to look at him and sighing in relief. Link was held against her with her arms while her hands clung to the Sheikah Slate with a white knuckled grip. “Oh! Abel, there were some bokoblins! I… well, the bomb rune comes in handy, there was no way I could use my bow while holding Link.”

Abel blinked, staring at the wreckage, and then he laughed. “You’re almost as much of a menace with that thing as he would be.”

Tilieth stared at him a moment before giggling, and Abel beamed at her with pride. The two moved ahead, crossing Proxim Bridge together. By the time they reached the shrine on the other side and the ruins of the outpost near the Great Plateau, the sun was disappearing behind the stone walls that had protected them for the last decade.

It felt strange, being back here. Not much time had honestly passed—a week or so, maybe?—but the difference was obvious. Link was awake, having likely been startled by the sounds of the bombs, and there was no longer fear that he would die from thirst or hunger. The couple had two horses now, and their son was sporting a fresh, clean, and new outfit while Abel wore a new tunic and the bandana Tilieth had acquired.

Honestly, the only one who still looked fresh from the ragged survival of the plateau was Tilieth. Abel felt a little guilty for it. He wished he could make clothes as she could, but the best he knew was mending.

In either case, Abel was grateful when he could easily feed Link dinner, and the couple traveled into the shrine to find a safe place to rest. Abel was a little uneasy leaving the horses outside unattended when that bandit was half a day’s ride away, but he figured she was incapacitated enough.

Besides, he’d finish her off if she tried to follow them.

“It feels like we haven’t been to a shrine in ages,” Tilieth noted as the two laid out blankets.

Abel tried to ignore the fact that it was his fault they’d gotten sidetracked. Tilieth was just making an observation, after all. “I imagine we’ll find plenty on the way to the desert.”

Or at least I hope so.

XXX

Tilieth found that she felt much safer venturing outside alone as she was growing more comfortable using the Sheikah Slate. She could access its abilities far faster than taking aim and firing off her bow. While she’d had a decade to practice with it and was fairly proficient, the idea of using it against people still made her skin crawl.

But a refreshing bath in the morning made all those worries slip away, and thankfully, this time, there was no one else around. Their horses were grazing peacefully when she emerged from the shrine, and Epona trotted up to her welcomingly.

Tilieth smiled at the sunrise, at the promise of a new day, and she prayed it would be a good one. Link still needed healing, and Tilieth was looking forward to seeing him make progress. Despite her own worries, she was also very much looking forward to seeing the Gerudo Desert. She’d never traveled so far from Hateno in her life, and she’d always been curious about the place.

Besides, it promised safety, just as Kakariko did. And, as Abel had said last night, there had to be shrines nearby.

Hope blossomed in her chest. With Abel doing a little better and finally trusting her to help him, with Link being awake for nearly an hour at a time, it finally seemed like things were going the right way.

Tilieth hummed cheerily as she finished bathing and gathered supplies to warm some breakfast. When she reentered the shrine, she was relieved to see that Abel and Link were both still sleeping peacefully. She felt bad breaking the moment, but she also knew Abel would start unraveling if they took too long.

But heavens, it was good to see them resting.

It also gave her a moment to pause as she looked at the tunics she’d made for them, styled in Hateno’s traditional garb and colors, and she…

No. She shook her head. She… she couldn’t think about home. She couldn’t think about…

But how hypocritical was it of her, to insist that Abel rely on her with his struggles when she couldn’t handle her own, when he would go out of his way to help her avoid it?

She couldn’t exactly just be fine with everything, though. And there was nothing wrong with accepting help.

Except Abel had been breaking himself and denying his own pain to help her for the last ten years. He’d always been like that. It was where Link got it from. Both men were so self sacrificial Tilieth had to marvel how they had survived as long as they had.

Clearly, it was only through Hylia’s grace and protection.

Sighing, Tilieth gently woke her husband, who was surprisingly sluggish, making her feel a little guiltier about rousing him at all. Still, according to the slate it was nearly eight in the morning, which was several hours later than he and Link would usually get up.

Abel tried to say he would just eat on the road, but Tilieth insisted that Link couldn’t eat that way, forcing her husband to actually take his time. She could see how he struggled with it, but she appreciated that he was trying to listen to her.

It made her a little nervous too. She could handle caring for her family somewhere safe, but… well. It wasn’t like Abel wouldn’t immediately step up if there was danger, just as he had yesterday.

Tilieth shuddered thinking about the body on the road, about the person who had been hiding in the brush. Perhaps Abel’s lack of trust was warranted.

But it broke her heart, that her beautiful kingdom had fallen into such ruin that people were killing each other for survival. And she knew, deep down, it was breaking Abel’s heart too.

The family set out fairly quickly, passing through the outpost ruins, wandering by the chilling reminders of the guardians that had demolished it. Although some guardian husks were on the plateau, they were all centered around the Temple and the Abbey, and while Til would pray at the temple, she often avoided the front entrance like the plague to ensure she didn’t see those haunting monsters.

The Great Plateau loomed beside them as they reached the Gatepost Town ruins, and Tilieth was overcome with a strange longing and nostalgia. Having spent a decade up there, it… really had become home. She wished they could teleport up there without worrying about their horses; although their bed was barely better than the ground, it was still their bed.

But excitement started to outweigh her melancholy as they started to move beyond the plateau, beyond the ruins, and entered territory she’d never seen before.

Tilieth looked around eagerly, and her eyes caught movement quickly.

Was that… a paper windmill?

“Wait,” she said hastily, leaping off Epona, giggling as she suspected she might know what that was. She nearly missed a small pond with some ducks, and she hid behind some rocks to take aim, gasping in excitement as she caught sight of a treasure chest floating in the water as well. One shot killed one of the fowl, scaring the others off, and then the cryo rune allowed her to happily get to her treasure, which turned out to be an opal.

Abel watched her from atop Ama, hands resting on Link’s lap, reins loose in his fingers as he leaned over while Link snoozed. A gentle smile pulled at his face, and he asked, “Find anything useful?”

Tilieth waved the opal high in the air with a grin.

“Wonderful,” her husband chuckled. “We can club a bokoblin on the head with it.”

“We could trade it, you know!” Tilieth huffed. “I’m sure it would be useful in a land where rupees are fairly meaningless.”

Abel’s eyebrows twitched up in an concession, and then Tilieth rushed up the small hill to reach her original prize.

“What are you looking for now?” Abel called.

“Just a moment,” Til huffed as she scrambled to the top. The instant she touched the windmill, though, strange balloons appeared. They clearly had targets on them. Initially, Til just tried to throw rocks, but they hardly bounced against the balloons. Perhaps…?

Pulling her bow off her back, she took aim.

“Til?” Abel called worriedly.

“It’s okay,” she assured him. “Just koroks.”

Abel’s voice grew even more baffled. “You’re shooting them??”

“Wha—no!” Til laughed, missing her target as she released her arrow. She groaned, exasperated – she already knew she didn’t need to waste supplies, but Abel would blow up if she spent too many arrows on this quest. “Just—just give me a minute!”

As she turned, tracing her moving targets, she could make out Abel’s exasperated expression in her peripheral vision. She ignored it, though she did gasp in alarm when her bow snapped after two arrows – she supposed it was shoddily made, but…

She could sense Abel’s eyes boring into her.

After three balloons, the korok finally showed itself with a cheer. Tilieth triumphantly slid down the rocky hill, korok seed in hand.

“Did you get it?” Abel asked dully, raising an eyebrow. “Perhaps it gave you the arrows back, and a fresh bow?”

“We have other bows,” Tilieth said dismissively, pocketing the item. “This’ll help us carry more in the long run!”

“Ah, yes, with Hestu’s maracas,” Abel noted, though his annoyance had shifted to bewilderment. Tilieth giggled at him.

“I’m surprised you remembered,” she remarked, climbing back onto Epona.

“Hard to forget such absurdities,” Abel sighed. “Or fantastical magic, I suppose.”

“You need to have a bit more sense of magic to you, love,” Tilieth said with a smile. “Accepting the world at face value is—”

“Pragmatic,” Abel finished. “And it’s what will keep us alive, Til. I’m not denying koroks and their magic exist, I’m not a fool, but… please, let’s not waste supplies.”

Tilieth sighed, conceding the point and letting her husband lead the way. Her mild disappointment ebbed away as they left the Great Plateau behind, entering a canyon. Off in the distance, she could make out ruddy, nearly square shaped mountains, and she stared at them in wonder.

The Gerudo Highlands. She could easily see them from their home atop the plateau, but she’d never gotten this close to them.

The Sheikah Slate chimed as they continued, making her jump, and she quickly pulled it out. As it guided her, she quickly realized that the horses would not be able to traverse the small mountain it was trying to guide her and Abel towards.

“There better not be a talus this time,” Abel muttered, dismounting and letting Tilieth help strap Link to his back.

She certainly hoped that wasn’t the case, either.

It began to rain as the two climbed, making the grass a little slippery, but the slate’s sensor maintained the course until they reached the peak. Tilieth looked around, squinting in the distance, seeing the silhouette of Hyrule castle, and she gasped a little.

There was a tower near the castle? How—surely there weren’t shrines—

Of course there had to be shrines there. They’d been trying to get to a shrine when Abel had originally realized they were heading into Central Hyrule a few days ago.

“Til, let’s keep going,” Abel noted. “Link’s shivering.”

Tilieth whirled around, surprised to see Link awake, muscles trembling, and she hastily led the way as a shrine came into view. Tilieth activated it with the slate and Link’s palm, and the family hastened indoors.

This new shrine was almost a relief to see, a familiar challenge to push through with little worry of threats and the promise of helping Link in a tangible way. Abel settled Link against the wall so the couple could figure out this new puzzle. It didn’t take long to realize they were trapped on one side of a barred wall.

Tilieth followed the color coding, recognizing that, for both the shrines and the towers, an amber glow indicated something wasn’t active. There were several small amber columns that were seemingly attached at strange angles. Curious, she drew her new bow and a fresh arrow.

The instant the arrow hit the column, half the wall rotated, and a door opened.

“They’re switches!” she noted.

Abel, growing familiar with these puzzles, grabbed the amber ball and picked it up, passing through the gate, but he quickly returned with it. “Given where it should go, I think it needs to be in that wall the switch is attached to. There are shapes that can carry it over.

It took a few tries, but after Tilieth reset the wall, Abel managed to toss the orb into the correct spot to send over the edge once the switch was reactivated. Tilieth gave a cheer as the ball entered the appropriate area, and then a stone column started to punch its way up and down from the floor.

“What is it with these shrines and heights?” Abel muttered uneasily.

Tilieth laughed. “I’ll handle it, love! Though it is strange that these places are meant to train the Hero and they’re like this. Did fighting Calamity Ganon mean getting thrown into the air a lot?”

“Perhaps,” Abel said as he traipsed through the water to recover the arrows Tilieth had used. “But you can’t carry Link and get tossed.”

“Oh, let’s just see first,” Tilieth argued lightly, moving the wall once more.

The wall closed directly in front of the column, blocking both of them from it. Tilieth blinked.

Abel bit back a snort. “Well. We saw. Perhaps you should actually make it accessible now?”

“Oh hush,” Tilieth grumbled, flicking him lightheartedly. “I didn’t anticipate the distance.”

“I noticed.”

When the wall moved again, this time with Tilieth behind it, she realized there was a problem.

“Any luck?” Abel called from the entrance.

“Well… it throws you into the ceiling,” Tilieth noted, staring at the course the column would send her. She’d slam her head right into the movable wall. Humming, she tried to look around for other clues or switches. Something had to change.

“Til,” Abel called. “I found something.”

Tilieth peered through the bars and gasped in delight. “Oh, a treasure chest! Look at you, exploring!”

“It has a key in it,” he pointed out, waving the item. “Might open the door the column is trying to toss you through.”

“Hand it through the bars, love!”

“No, wait, we just need to…”

Tilieth heard an arrow whistle through the air before the switch gave a soft sound and the entire wall moved again. She looked at Abel, bewildered, and then realized there had been no way to access the gate without moving the wall again.

The door opened, revealing Abel smiling at her, hands on his hips.

“Well, aren’t you proud of yourself?” she chuckled, walking towards him.

Abel’s smile immediately faded as he reached out, “Til, look out, you’re standing on—”

The rest of his statement was lost as Tilieth accidentally stepped right where the moving column was and it flung her into the air with a yelp. She tucked herself in so only her back slammed into the ceiling, and Abel hastily yanked her off when she landed mildly on the column once more.

“Are you alright?” he asked worriedly.

Tilieth groaned. She was fairly certain she was more embarrassed than in pain, but Hylia that hurt. “I… just need a minute.”

Abel’s hand settled on her lower back below where she was likely to end up with a bad bruise. He gently and carefully helped her sit up, and she hissed through the movement, but she gave a reassuring smile and a wink as she sat up a little.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he questioned.

“Love, I’ve birthed two babies,” Tilieth finally said as the pain started to subside. “I can handle it.”

Abel had to laugh at that before saying, “Why don’t we let me handle the column?”

Tilieth wanted to argue, but honestly, her back argued a little more loudly. She nodded.

Abel reactivated the switch, moving the wall once more, and stepped into place. She watched him brace himself, and she felt her stomach twist with giddiness as he got flung into the air.

She didn’t care that her back hurt. She wanted to try it.’

“Any luck?” she called as she heard Abel deploy the paraglider.

Her husband was silent for a moment, moving around, and then he grumbled, “That damn monk is still out of reach.”

Tilieth furrowed her brow before walking onto the column, shouting to get Abel’s attention he yelped her name as she got leapt with the force of the column, laughing as Abel caught her.

“Hylia, Til!” Abel complained, face flushed. “You already got hurt, can’t you just—”

“Another chest!” Tilieth pointed. “Perhaps that has something that can help?”

Abel sighed heavily. Tilieth reached for the paraglider and happily skipped back to the column, gently gliding down until it threw her into the air once more. Her stomach lurched, but her heart skipped a beat in excitement, and she managed to make it to the chest. When she opened it, she felt mildly disappointed to find a sword, but she knew Abel would appreciate it.

“That’s a feathered edge blade,” Abel noted, eyes widening a little.

Tilieth stared at it. “I don’t see feathers.”

“It’s made by the Rito and has wind magic in it,” Abel explained. “We should keep that, it could be very useful.”

A magic sword? Wait, Tilieth was interested now. “How do you use the wind magic?”

“One thing at a time, Til, we need to get to that monk.”

Oh, right.

Tilieth looked around the room once more, and mumbled to herself. “I wonder…”

“Til?”

“Get off the wall, love,” Tilieth advised as she glided back over. “I have an idea.”

“Care to share it?” Abel asked as he complied.

Tilieth smiled cheekily.

As her husband moved aside, Tilieth made her way to the column once more. When it tossed her up, she aimed for the switch. Although she was a decent shot, she had little practice on doing such attacks, and she missed her target, gasping as she almost landed without using the paraglider. Abel tried to step forward to help her, but the column threw her into the air once more, and she tried again.

By the fourth toss, she was starting to get the hang of it, but she’d yet to hit the switch.

Didn’t Link used to do shots like this all the time? How did he do it?!

She marveled for a moment at her son’s abilities, and then squeaked in surprise when Abel caught her. He grabbed the bow and arrows out of her hands as they were thrown again, and she watched him narrow his eyes with focus before hitting the target.

The wall shifted, and they landed on a set of stairs leading to the monk.

The couple caught their breath for a second before Tilieth clapped her hands. “I knew it!”

The real conundrum, then, was that Tilieth would have to carry Link in midair while Abel hit the switch again. That made her nervous. She could carry Link, of course, but not with the extra force of gravity flinging him into her one way or the other.

“Use the paraglider,” Abel advised. “I’ll strap him on to you.”

“But what about you?” Tilieth asked worriedly.

“I’ll land fine,” he assured her.

And so the couple stood ready to go, Link strapped to his mother’s back, when the entire family was tossed up into the air. Abel fired twice to hit his target, and Tilieth glided down a little quicker than normal while her husband landed hard on his feet, dropping to his hands and knees.

“Abel?” she called, stumbling as her feet touched the stairs.

“I’m fine,” he said quickly.

“You don’t get to say that when you’re not,” Tilieth protested.

“You said it earlier.”

“I was right, though! Childbirth is far worse than smacking my back into a wall! You didn’t push two children out of you, you don’t have that excuse.”

Abel’s measured breaths turned to laughs. “Til, just get Link to the monk.”

“You’re making fun of me!” Tilieth grumbled, slowly walking towards the shrine’s protector.

As she watched Link flinch when the spirit orb hit him, Tilieth had to wonder how many of these they’d collected by now, and how many might be left. Her son still had a long way to go, she imagined it was quite a bit.

She hoped there were a lot on the way to the desert.

The family was teleported outside, and Abel sighed, rolling onto his back in the grass. Tilieth carefully lowered herself down to the ground beside him.

“Well, we’ll be a little bruised, but that wasn’t so bad,” she admitted cheerily.

“No, I suppose not,” Abel conceded. “But still—”

Her husband stopped abruptly, body freezing. Tilieth looked up to see if he’d seen something in the sky, but aside from the crimson sunset, she couldn’t tell what was wrong. “Abel—”

“Hush,” her husband hissed quickly, sitting up sharply. “Lay down. On your side.”

Tilieth complied quickly, muscles shaking with exertion as she still supported Link until they touched the ground. Abel crept forward, and Tilieth carefully unclipped the harness from her so she could crawl with him. As she moved stealthily, she realized what had caught his attention.

Monsters. She could hear them.

The couple peered over the cliffside to see another ruined stable, and it was overrun with beasts.

"Outskirt Stable,” Abel muttered, eyes narrowing.

Tilieth counted at least twenty beasts, bokoblins and moblins alike. There was no way they could fight so many, was there?

“Can’t we just avoid them?” she whispered.

“A horde that size? We’re lucky they didn’t detect us on the way in,” Abel replied. “But… perhaps we…”

A horn blared, and all the beasts jumped, alerted. Tilieth felt her body fill with ice as at least a dozen eyes met her own.

They’d been spotted.

Chapter Text