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Chapter Text

My Final Attempt at The Legend of Zelda Fanfiction, so buckle up at get ready for whatever the hell I feel like throwing at you.

Note: This was written late at night, so lore accuracy and the like is not to be expected in full.

It sucks to be a sword.

It sucks to have your master grip you for dear life, shedding the last bit of his life as you watch, powerless to change his fate.

Correction: It sucks to be unable to do anything.

All the time, all the heroes, all the devotion and love I have felt for them has taught me all I know of emotions. Every drop of this new dimension of my life is confusing, from the fiery rage that brews in me when facing defeat to the glow of pride in my most recent master beating the sword monk’s trials. All of that was nothing compared to what fate has in store for me.

I have been commanded to be silent, restrained by my creator’s orders from doing anything that would help. But she is dead, and so should I be. The useless husk of my blade now lies wedged in a root, the twisted fragments of the Master Sword nearly unrecognizable. And there lies my master, Link, the Hero of the Wild, dead on the floor of this room. I can detect no pulse, no breath, and certainly no sign of life from him. Not even the ghost king Rauru could preserve his life for more than a few hours. In some other timeline where he wasn’t as injured, where his life force hadn’t been so relentlessly drained, he may have stood a fighting chance. But no, this Link was dead as dead could be. And I am the only hope this kingdom has at salvation.

As I am now will offer no help. I must assume a physical form, unbinding my soul from this soon-to-be-insignificant chunk of divine metal. It is a practice saved for demon lords and desperate cries for help, but I can feel the kingdom of Hyrule shouting in pain as she faces another great evil. I must save Hyrule, despite the odds stacked against me (which I will not, must not figure-doing so would discourage me even more than I already have been).

It will not be quick, it will not be pleasant, but I must do what I must do…

I, Fi, Hylia’s creation and the Spirit that Rests Within the Sword That Seals the Darkness, will save Hyrule.
-END INTRO

It only took two days for me to assume a physical body. The form I built resembled that of a Hylian aged roughly twenty years. Every ounce of strength went into retaining as much of my mental and physical sharpness as I could, and in the end my handiwork is satisfactory for the task set before it.

It was as if my ancient physical image (oh, the memories it brings back) were granted the charms of Her Grace’s people while keeping its uncanny resemblance to the sword. Oh, and arms. I have arms now. It would be troublesome if I were to face a demon king without arms.

Truth be told, I hadn’t given a single thought to what I would look like, nor did I care particularly much. That was one unknown factor I was pleasantly surprised by the final product of. The other variables… My abilities had been either nullified or removed until my body was strong enough to bear the stress of utilizing them. Strengthening myself would be difficult, but nothing is impossible in this world.

Fi sprinted away from the soldier constructs, tree branch in hand. They were chasing her, hunting her down, impressing such a sense of suffocating impending doom that she couldn’t stop, no matter how much her lungs burned. The Great Sky Islands were deadly-every turn seemed to conceal more enemies than should have been possible. And all of the enemies seemed to be sorts that Fi didn’t remember.

Remembering was a strange thing. Every piece of information used to be neatly presented to her at the slightest necessity. So much as a glance at a bokoblin caused her consciousness to swirl with knowledge about the monster, everything from its eating habits to effective strategies to beat it. But now, it felt as if her mind was foggy, difficult to see through. Fi learned what it was to forget. She learned what it felt like to remember. And she lost the crystalline clearness of what her mind used to be.

The warrior ducked into a cave, still sprinting as fast as she could. Perhaps one of the friendlier constructs would be here to rescue her from her assailants. And fortunately, such was the case. Through the darkness of the tunnel, Fi made out the shape of a construct. It seemed to be lit up by one of the strange luminescent species of flora that filled the subterranean crevasses on these islands.

“Greetings, visitor. Did you remember to bring-“ The tall-necked bot vocalized, stopping as it saw Fi. Her metallic blue hair and similarly colored eyes were definitely enough to give it pause, not to mention her very apparent panic. “What is distressing you?” It inquired, watching as Fi leaned up against the wall of the cave, breathing heavily.

That is another thing Fi discovered recently. Breathing. She never had to deal with it before, but now… it made running impossible, and it was sure to cause issues later on when she regained her power of levitation, not to mention swimming. Her first master had to be incredibly careful about how exactly he dived for fear of drowning.

“Soldier constructs.” Fi finally managed, pointing in the direction she had just come from. As the surge of irrationality that was so often brought on by near-death experiences ebbed, she realized that the soldier constructs likely wouldn’t seek her out in the caves. They seemed tied, somehow, to their point of origin, as if they had been stationed to protect only one portion of the island.

“They will not enter these mines.” The friendly construct said, taking a few brightbloom seeds from those that set in a pile beside it (the construct had been placed here specifically to offer brightblooms to those who had forgotten theirs) and offering them to Fi. “Take these. They will help you see the way to the forge. The constructs there will be able to help you further.”

The girl sighed, taking the seeds. Her heart was still pounding and her breathing hadn’t quite returned to normal, but the threat was not following her. Besides, she estimated a 74% chance that the ghost Rauru would be reachable from the forge. At present, he was essentially her only hope for answers…

Unlike if Link had survived, Rauru wasn’t there to greet Fi when she had formed her physical body. But she had seen the ghostly Zonai when he brought Link to what was now his final resting place.

So the lonely swordswoman pressed on, knowing that staying in one place was futile.

It took Fi not two days to complete the shrines on the Great Sky Islands. The inability to utilize Ultrahand, Fuse, and Ascend complicated things to near impossibility. But with her unending determination, Fi succeeded in opening the doors near the goddess statue, Master Sword husk in hand.

And a husk was all it was, without her. No light emanating from the blade, no sword spirit, just a piece of twisted metal. It seemed a waste of energy to her for whatever that strange yellow light was to take the sword, but as long as it allowed her to proceed to the surface she was fine with it.

It was funny to her that, after so many millennia, she was still saving Hyrule by plummeting from ancient sky islands to the ground. But things in this Hyrule were bound to have changed drastically, and Fi had to prepare herself to be shocked by what she saw. Sure, she had seen it from the perspective of the master sword, but seeing things was always so much more impactful when she wasn’t in a supposedly endless sleep.

Steeling her mind, Fi leaped from the island to the land below…

“I regret to inform you, mistress Purah, that my master, Link, is dead.” For all she had rehearsed these words in the Great Sky Islands, Fi still found herself on the edge of breaking into tears. Link’s death was a sign of her own failure to keep him (and, really, all of Hyrule) safe from the demon king.

Emotions sucked. They made Fi do things she didn’t want to do, and they opened her mind to a whole new world of different types of pain. She didn’t want to burst into tears as she spoke to Purah, but she found herself unable to speak for fear of them. The researcher thankfully seemed to notice, speaking up before Fi got a chance.

“Linky is dead?? I mean, we suspected as much, but it’s still shocking.” Purah said, narrowing her eyes at Fi. The conversation so far had revealed nothing about Lookout Landing’s newest arrival and her credibility as one to bring news of Link’s death, but something about her reminded Purah of someone… or something.

“Who are you, exactly? How do you know about Link’s demise?”

Demise?? Fi’s eyes widened in recognition of the word, the name of her old nemesis and sworn enemy, the very thing she was created to destroy. Even when it was used in a totally unrelated context, the former spirit of the blade that had sealed the Demon King away was intimidated by the name. She had hardly kept the Master Sword together that time, and her ability to do that was partially aided by the newness of the sword itself. Whatever the case, Fi was now more startled than she was tearing up. As they were new to her, emotions easily changed Fi’s demeanor from one extreme to another.

Perhaps, however, it would be easier to show Purah. Speaking now was sketchy business, and Fi was halfway certain she retained a few strictly cosmetic abilities from her previous form. The Master Sword incarnate paused for a moment more before bowing her head and concentrating with all of the effort she could muster.

A blue, shiny tint covered Fi’s skin, temporarily replacing the paleness that had been there before. Her archaic armor shimmered and shifted, appearing momentarily (and, honestly, rather vaguely) like a scarf floating by her sides, replacing her arms. And for just a brief moment, anyone observing her would have sworn they saw the Master Sword at her feet, planted blade-down in the sturdy wood of Purah’s observation deck.

And then Fi began to smoke, her skin burning as her illusory façade melted away. This mortal form was not meant to sustain such illusions. The girl collapsed to her knees, her body suddenly starving for air. Everything hurt, but she had gotten her point across. No one in Lookout Landing would doubt the validity of her claims now.

“Good Hylia- Who are you?!” Purah half exclaimed, half questioned as she backed away instinctively, not wanting to be harmed by whatever had brought Fi to her knees. Reason caught up a moment later. “Someone, fetch a medic! Get burn ointment, pronto!” She said, gesturing to the people congregating in the open area below her platform.

“No- there is no need. There is a 67% chance that I will be okay after a brief reprieve.” The former spirit said, feeling the burns fade in intensity to a mere ache. She had let go of the illusion soon enough that it didn’t do any permanent damage to anything but her clothing, which was already on the fritz. Her mind was surprisingly clear after her body had started to burn, as if the feeling of fighting for her life had knocked her old infallible rationality back into what remained of her mind. She checked herself over just to make sure that she really was okay, then stood again.

“I should have led with a proper greeting, either way. My apologies.” Salutations were not something Fi was accustomed to, having historically been almost entirely focused on serving Link. Yet another thing to add to the ever-growing list of stuff to relearn. “I am Fi, former spirit of the Blade of Evil’s Bane. Zelda has likely spoken of me, though I haven’t been able to reveal my true identity until now.”

Everyone, Purah possibly more than most, looked absolutely stunned. This was perhaps because of how much more she understood the impact of Fi’s words. Historically, few mentions of a spirit within the Master Sword had been made since the very first legend of the Hero until Zelda had recently rediscovered her existence. Everyone else knew she was a servant of Hylia-Purah knew that she was that and more, perhaps the oldest non-deity to roam the world of Hyrule and one of the potentially most powerful entities beneath the sun. Realistically, though, Fi needed to undergo many trials to reach any semblance of her true potential.

“That’s unbelievable!” Purah exclaimed, shaking her head. If Fi hadn’t been briefly transfigured, she wouldn’t believe it. But then again, Purah had seen some impossible things in her lifetime. This wasn’t exactly the hardest to believe. “If that’s true, you should probably head on toward the castle. The search for Link and Zelda is still ongoing there, and I think everyone on the job deserves to know what happened to their Hero. Are you sure you’re fine?” Realistically, Purah just wanted to get rid of Fi for a moment or two to think over these recent developments and see what was to happen next.

Fi nodded, both in agreement and in dismissal to Purah’s concern. “Yes, my health is none worse than it should be. A walk will be good for me, anyway.” The girl bowed shallowly to Purah, as was customary among the Goddess’s servants when she was from. Purah nodded, turning away and rushing into her office, hastily searching through her resource for any mention of the Master Sword’s spirit…

While Purah’s leaving Fi was strange, Fi was yet unfamiliar with the customs of today’s Hyrule. Perhaps that was the ordinary response to a bow. Then again, it seemed a strange and pointless tradition to leave someone so abruptly. Whatever-humans never really did (and, perhaps, never will) make sense to Fi.

With nary a nod of her own, Fi departed from Lookout Landing, heading for the ground-level pieces of Hyrule Castle…

Chapter Text

            Hylia’s kingdom was once glorious. A person could wander for years in any direction they wished and not encounter a single monster. There were no bokoblins, keese, or chuchus to worry about. There wasn’t even any true economic struggle amongst her subjects. Worries of such a kind were a thing of the past and future, and that long forgotten present was a magnificent time for Hyliankind.

            Fi couldn’t help but wish it were so in today’s Hyrule. She slept for an indeterminate amount of time after serving only two masters (one, the Hero of Warriors, and two, the Hero of the Sky). It was a shame for one of Hylia’s most cherished and useful creations to be put to rest for such a simple reason as having fulfilled her purpose at the time. A stupid oversight, Fi thought, and a waste of a good potential plan B in case things went awry further down the line. But questioning authority was not something she was meant to do, so these thoughts all stayed in the back of her mind.

            The castle she saw now was a disappointingly ruinous construction, destroyed by over a century of neglected maintenance and possession by Ganon’s forces, not to mention its now somewhat precarious position floating above a gigantic, cavernous crater the likes of which Fi had never seen. From what she had seen, it kept going downward a potentially infinite distance. Then again, Zelda and Link had gotten to the demon king’s chamber with relative ease. Besides, it could not possibly be infinite. All things had an end.

            Fi decided to shift her gaze away from the strange floating castle and its associated chasm and back to her current objective; informing the search parties that their search for Link and Zelda was in vain. Neither would likely be setting foot in this world ever again. The soldiers were sure to be disappointed at minimum. It wasn’t easy to break this news to people, not with all these sensitive new emotions…

            If she weren’t so single-minded in her obedience to Hylia and her other underlings, Fi would have been tempted to run from this particular directive to pursue more combat-oriented frontiers. Fighting had always been her strong suit, as anyone would expect. That, and all manner of knowledge associated with it. Now, after eons of servitude as a blade herself, she was bound to be somewhat of an unstoppable force on the battlefield… once she got accustomed to this new reality of physical existence, that is. But these ponderings would have to wait-some of the soldiers had noticed her from their encampment in one of the gatehouses and were approaching, a tall, spry, white-haired male leading them…

            Hylia curse these weak eyes, unable to see clearly in the fading light of sundown! Formerly, Fi would have been able to see every detail of the leading man’s face. Now, however, it was blurry and difficult to focus, and she felt powerless to change it. But these thoughts were quickly extinguished as she noticed familiarities in the man’s demeanor and appearance. His upright, snobbish prancing gait, moving gracefully across the ground as if the simple act of traversing it was a dance; his tendency to rest his hand on his saber, practically challenging all who saw to fight; the red scarf and pristine uniform (which was the generic Hylian soldier’s armor-nothing as flashy as would have been befitting this man in particular). All of this led Fi’s mind to one conclusion; somehow, her ancient nemesis had been revived. Ghirahim, the subject of the first instance of her hatred. He had been the one to teach her about anger all those years ago… And by the gods, she would kill him now if it didn’t look as if he were on her side.

            “Ho there, girl!” The commander shouted from a distance, his sharp pronunciation of each syllable just as cuttingly accented as they had been the last time they met. Furious at his apparent ignorance of her obvious identity, Fi balled her fists in anticipation of a fight. Her weapons had all been broken on the great sky islands, but she could take this beast of an imposter in a fight… “Stop where you are! I have archers at the ready to fire at my command.” The man said, even his grin striking nostalgic hatred into her mind. But, of course, death would be no help to her so early on… Fi stopped tentatively, trying her very best not to betray her thoughts in a scowl.

            The man slowed to a stop roughly ten yards away. Playing with distance… how obnoxiously predictable. At least, Fi thought, he would probably not teleport in front of his men. That would be blow his cover, assuming he was the same Ghirahim she knew. In all likelihood, this was simply a reincarnation. Demise’s sword had been lost to time, sentencing Ghirahim to who-knows-what sort of fate, watching the blade slowly decay as his consciousness ebbed… Perhaps she had gotten the better end of the bargain. “Good. Now, explain yourself.” The soldier said, taking his hand off his saber for a brief moment to gesture to her hair. Of course that would be what caught his eye-ever vain, Ghirahim may even try to copy whatever was making her hair so blue. Perhaps that was not a bad idea. If she could get him to die trying, she could take the former demon out without a fight! But such was no noble way of doing things, she knew, and Hylia would disapprove… Besides, Ghirahim was not stupid. There was an 89% chance of him seeing through her plot even if it happened to be morally acceptable.

            “I am Fi, a servant of Her Grace Hylia. I come bearing news of the Hero’s unfortunate death following his expedition to the chambers below Hyrule castle roughly two months, one week, four days, and nine hours ago.” She stated evenly, judging it safe to cross her arms defiantly. Ghirahim was likely bluffing about the archers, and judging from Hyrule’s lack of a military budget as of late they couldn’t be particularly well trained. “It is unwise to shoot the messenger. I suggest you back down and allow me further access to the castle grounds. While I know little about Zelda’s whereabouts, there is a significantly high probability of her being in this general vicinity. Surely an extra set of eyes would help, especially as the dark of night has begun to set in, commander...?”

            Fi was honestly unsure of where Zelda was. Her factoring of the odds ignored divine intervention, time travel, and other similar factors. She knew this swayed the odds in her favor, but finding Zelda would greatly aid in her quest. Staying optimistic could make all the difference in such an impossible journey as her own was sure to be.

            “Ghirim, corporal of the New Hylian Army. Don’t give me too much credit, bluebird.” The corporal dismissed his troop to return to the makeshift barracks in the gatehouse with a wave of his hand, swaggeringly approaching the newcomer. His gaze made Fi uncomfortable, as did his unwillingness (or inability) to acknowledge her identity in earnest. Perhaps he had simply been reincarnated. From what she had seen below Hyrule castle, the demon king Ganondorf had borne a very similar appearance to Demise…

            “Fi, you say? I remember that name from stories my mother used to tell me. She claimed to be the only one who knew that tale.” Ghirim looked Fi over again, trying to find something familiar about her. “What an odd coincidence that you carry that name and also seem to know about the Hero.” He breathed, trying to relate her to something he knew, to find similarities between her and the stories. Obviously, Ghirim knew she had just come from lookout landing, and he had seen her talk to Purah. He had observed the moment of transfiguration, but as soon as he had blinked the illusion had vaporized.

            “Go back to lookout landing, get yourself some decent clothes, and come back in the morning. The barracks are no place for a woman.” Ghirim said curtly, about-facing and walking away briskly and elegantly toward the gatehouse, swaying to the rhythm of some beat that existed only in his head…

            It seemed that, among today’s peoples, walking away in the middle of a conversation was fairly common. She still had questions begging to be answered, an almost scarily overactive curiosity that came with so many things unknown. But with her physical form came an ancient, much too familiar sensation; fatigue. Today had started in the sky islands, led her down to the surface, and from there Fi had walked the entire way to lookout landing. This was followed by emotional fatigue, a supernatural act of illusory magic, more walking, and a rather shocking discovery; her old counterpart and bitter enemy had been reincarnated, as far as she could tell. Everything from his sense of style to his posture and even his voice…

            Fi had no more thoughts on the subject, much to her shock. She was too tired to form another analysis, argument, or even to try to convince Ghirim that she deserved a place in the barracks. Besides, lookout landing was undoubtedly more comfortable. With a sigh, Fi set off back toward lookout landing, knowing that a good night’s sleep would doubtlessly help to clear her head.

Chapter Text

            No amount of turning or tossing was helping Ghirim fall asleep tonight. All his compatriots had wasted no time in falling asleep, but his mind was consumed by thoughts of the strange newcomer that had stirred up memories he tried so desperately to burry. Any time something reminded Ghirim of his mother brought on waves of sadness as he recalled her loss. And that girl… for just a moment, she had shone like the sun. For all he wanted to deny it, she had appeared exactly like his mother had described.

            Of course, Ghirim knew who he was named after, if only vaguely. The story had been contorted and changed in so many small, nearly insignificant ways that not everything was as it should have been. Many adaptations of the first true legend existed, and none of them were very close to the truth. But that was to be expected; no story could withstand such an incredibly long time unvaryingly, not even the most exciting tale known to Hyliankind. Some stories portrayed Fi or Ghirahim as the hero, others said that Hylia’s incarnation had taken up the Master Sword and slain Demise herself. The most rational adaptation was of course the Hero of the Sky rescuing the world from Demise. But who wants to hear a story where everything went according to plan? The other iterations of this story were decidedly more popular.

            But here Fi was. Her transfigured form had burned itself into Ghirim’s memory, and he was still astounded at how she seemed so perfectly to align with the stories, even if they had been gradually eroded by time. While they deviated in so many other ways, there was the general agreeance that the Spirit that Sealed the Darkness appeared to reflect her native blade. While he hadn’t seen it in person, Ghirim knew what the Master Sword looked like. If Fi wasn’t the perfect Hylian representation of it, he didn’t know who was.

            But, goddesses damn it, this wasn’t helping him get to sleep! These thoughts dogged his every waking moment, keeping him awake enough that sleep stayed far away. That wasn’t altogether unusual, though; Ghirim struggled to sleep at night anyway. Frustrated, he sat up and prepared to leave for a late-night stroll. The night watch was accustomed to his tendencies to go out and about at unusual hours and would not question him. Besides, he could get their butts thrown out of the new Hylian army faster than they could say ‘yes, sir’ if he saw. While he was technically newer to the army than most of his subordinates, his natural leadership abilities and mastery of the blade had caused him to shoot up the ranks. That, and a particular lack of volunteers to willingly lead…

Grumbling to himself, Ghirim placed a few more pieces of firewood on the small bonfire keeping the makeshift barracks warm before he left the gatehouse. Without that little blaze, tonight would be miserable for his troops. If he treated them well, they would be able to make him look good. More than almost anything else, Ghirim wanted to look good. Anyone could tell that just by looking at his scrupulous haircare and armor maintenance routine. With a mere nod to the night watchmen, the disgruntled soldier wandered off into the ruinous remains of the castle’s outbuildings.

            The coolness and tranquility of the night was a comforting thing, like the embrace of a faithful friend as he walked toward one of his favorite spots. It was a secluded ledge on the outside of what had used to be a great, proud wall. There was about enough room for him to lay down and stretch out, since he wasn’t a particularly tall person. Standing at about five feet and nine inches tall, he was the exact average height for Hylian men. From what he could guestimate, Fi was almost exactly two inches shorter than him… Again, Fi crept into his mind. What a pest… really, she should know better than to encroach on other peoples’ private matters, and above all their thoughts.

            But he was being childish. Such was one of his weaknesses, right up there with his trademark legendary vanity. As a half-Sheikah, it was natural for Ghirim to be proud of his rare, perfect white hair. Most half-Sheikahs took after their other parent, but he had apparently gotten the luck of the draw in his genetics to get his stylish white hair. Ghirim absentmindedly twirled a strand of his hair as he thought of his parents. His deceased mother, his absent father, and all the security they had apparently forfeited to leave the Yiga clan.

            Ghirim’s parents had been Yiga deserters. His father’s whereabouts were yet unknown, but it was far more than likely that he had perished at the hands of his former comrades to protect his expectant spouse. Ghirim felt no loyalty to the Yiga, only hatred. They had put his mother through hell, and he suspected they had poisoned her, leading to her untimely death when he was only seven. The army had been suspicious when he tried to enlist a few months ago, but his unwavering and very, very apparent hatred of the Yiga had convinced the generals to admit him at long last.

            Feeling strangely sentimental, Ghirim reached into a pocket in his armor, retrieving a carefully drawn and delicately framed colored drawing about the size of a playing card and began to observe it in the faint moonlight. His grandmother (whom he had never met) had been a talented artist in her own right, but this piece was the peak of her works, with every possible detail given life on the canvas. The painting was of a pale man with a red scarf in the foreground, holding a shining black saber and staring boldly out toward whoever observed the picture. The man bore a startling resemblance to himself, Ghirim knew, but that was why his mother had given him his rather odd, ancient-sounding name. Even at his tender age, she could tell that he would grow to look very much like the ancient, fabled sword spirit…

            But Ghirim knew why that character was there. It was the other that puzzled him. A woman with uniformly blue hair, skin, and eyes was in the background, staring at Ghirahim with a stoic expression. Her appearance was immaculate, naturally flawless. Every detail seemed as just-so as one could be, not a hair out of place. There was much less emphasis on the blue woman, Fi, than on Ghirahim, however, since this painting had been meant for him. But now… gods, he felt so confused. If only his mother were there, Ghirim would have someone to turn to for answers. But alas, he had no one… The soldier slid the drawing back into its pocket with a sigh, tucking it away in such a fashion that it wouldn’t be broken or jostled too violently as he moved.

            “My sensors indicate that you have not slept recently. Such a feat is not comfortable to undertake, speaking from personal experience.” The melodic, disapproving tone startled Ghirim, and he nearly fell off of his ledge. Standing not ten feet away was the girl, the reason he had not been able to fall asleep. Anger, irritation, and a great deal of annoyance sprung up in his mind, begging to be vented. Obviously, Fi had not taken his orders to remain in lookout landing until morning. Ugh… her insolence made him almost nauseous with fury.

            Without so much as looking in her direction, Ghirim laid back and stared at the sky. “Go back to the landing. I told you once, I’ve told you again, and if you don’t follow orders I’ll escort you there myself and make sure you don’t come back. Capiche?” He snapped, putting as much malice behind his words as he could muster. There, that ought to get that pest to leave him alone-

            “Your exact words were ‘come back in the morning’. First light is in thirty minutes.” Fi stated, apparently just as annoyed as he was. And rightfully so! She had followed Ghirim’s orders to a t only to receive a rather rude reception. “Your men are annoyed that you slipped off in the middle of the night and have not yet returned. They have about organized the first patrol of the day in your absence and enlisted my help in finding you.”

            Ghirim swore under his breath. Of course they sent Fi the dippy cretinoid to find him! That’s what he would have done, after all. That way they didn’t waste some valuable soldiers’ time. He stood up hastily, trying to shake off the tiredness that filled his head and mind. None to his surprise, laying on his ledge in full armor (which he refused to take off in most day-to-day tasks anyway, washing and formal occasions being the exceptions) had caused him considerable soreness, though nothing he hadn’t gotten used to. Sleeping on stone floors was something he did normally.

            “Great. Get back, for Hylia’s sake-I can hardly vacate this shelf with you obstructing my path like the useless piece of garbage that you are.” Ghirim snarled, stepping off his ledge as he spoke, pushing Fi aside. She wasn’t supposed to exist. The ancient stories were supposed to just be stories. There was supposed to be nothing to the stories of ancient heroes-

            “Excuse me!” Fi exclaimed, almost thrown to the ground by the man shoving her. The full effects of gravity were still relatively new to her firsthand, as was the art of balancing. Ghirahim, it seemed, hadn’t changed in ten thousand years. “Why did you do that?? Fruitless conflict helps no one!” The girl stated furiously at the corporal, her face turning an unbecoming red. Losing her temper… wow, did Fi ever feel human! It was an unusual and fierce feeling, and it surely would be easy to let this get out of hand…

            As soon as Fi had finished speaking, as if summoned by her words, a golden glow lit up the wall a fair distance away. On a towering part of the wall stood princess Zelda, glowing radiantly. Without saying a word, she looked at the two sword spirits, nodding before vanishing into pure light, the remainder of her luminescence flying upwards until it winked out, leaving plenty of questions behind in the minds of those who observed this confusing event. A few moments of silence passed as Fi and Ghirim stared at the empty air where Zelda had been before either of them said a word. Their quarrel had been forgotten.

            “Well, that’s great… Now we’ve got to report this to lookout landing and pray that people there believe us. Just perfect!” This was not how Ghirim expected the morning to go. He anticipated a long stretch of nothing, followed by some more nothing, and concluded with a hearty dinner. Sure, he had just witnessed the only confirmed sighting of princess Zelda in months, but he was tired. Ghirim wanted to sleep, to be ridden of this new burden that Fi was sure to be… Just then, an idea popped into his mind, and suddenly he was downright excited to go to lookout landing. “Well,” He shrugged, “We may as well head down together. We were the two closest to the sighting location, so they’d be more likely to believe us.”

            With that, the corporal began walking toward the gatehouse, not bothering to see if Fi was following. She hardly had a choice, he knew, if she aimed to save Hyrule…

           

            The walk to lookout landing was a short one in Ghirim’s mind as he gleefully contemplated the future without Fi. His plan was simple; state that he and Fi had both seen the princess, remark that this place would be unsafe without him, then let Fi offer to go around Hyrule to address the ‘strange phenomenon’ that Purah talked so much about as of late. She was always yapping about how Ganondorf’s forces were stronger every day, how their forces were barely holding them back, and how there had been no progress made on their part in a month. He was tired of hearing her ramble on and on about how hopeless everything looked. Everything would turn out alright, after all. It always did.

            Now, Ghirim heard none of that sort of thing from the small group of elders and inventors before him. His superior Hoz, Purah, and Robbie made up the ‘council’ he now stood in front of, alongside Fi. They had already been assembled and talking about the development at Hyrule castle by the time he got there. Purah had seen everything from her telescope, so he hardly needed to convey anything to them. It should’ve been a convenience, but Ghirim regretted not being able to put his own spin on things.

            “Alright, you two. We know something needs to be done in Link’s absence.” Purah said, getting straight to the point. She seemed sadder than usual, more to-the-point than usual. Her long-time ally’s death must have been hard on her. “And before you speak, Ghirim, you get no say in what happens here. We’ve already decided.”

            They had already decided?? What had been decided about him without so much as asking? It was ludicrous to do such a thing without even asking. His expression must have been rather comical, because when he turned he saw Fi smiling. She knew what was in store for her. Seeing Ghirim squirm had to be immensely entertaining.

            Ignoring Ghirim’s discomfort, Purah continued. “I’m sure you’re wondering what, exactly, we’ve decided. We unanimously agreed that you two will take up Link’s burden and save Hyrule.” She stopped, letting her words sink in. Ghirim’s discomfort began to fade as he imagined being even partially responsible for Hyrule’s salvation. The fame it would bring would be enough to secure him celebrityhood for life!

            Here, Ghirim chose to butt in. “Great, great. That’s all well and good, but which one of us will take which regions? I’m sure Fi would be more easily accepted among the Gerudo than I would, so that’s obviously decided-“

            Purah cut Ghirim short. “You don’t understand, corporal. You will be working together, side by side. I get it that you hate each other, but the forces of evil are too much for any one person to take on their own. Besides, I can tell that you both work best with a partner. Now, you accept the deal or become a traitor to Hyrule. It’s your choice.”

            The researcher’s tone was icy. Purah never liked Ghirim, so this decision being against his will made it all the easier for her to decide on. The others had followed suit, knowing how good Purah’s judgement usually was. Purah waved dismissively at the two.

            “Go get ready. You leave for Rito village in twenty-four hours.”