Prologue: The Hero Who Changed

The Shrine of Resurrection did not return him unchanged.

The body that rose from stone and light was not the same one that fell in fire and ash.

Link had heard the Sheikah whisper about it, once—reformation, the way ancient metal remembered its purpose after being shattered. How divine magic bound itself to purpose.

And Link's purpose was survival.

He awoke not just mended, but reshaped.

Muscles tuned not to his past self, but to every skill he would need to reclaim Hyrule.

He was still Hylian. Mostly.

But the longer he walked the land, the more it changed him.
He spent weeks with the Rito, and wings began to whisper along his spine—folding and unfurling at will, like breath. After reconnecting with Revali, they could actually support his weight .

He trained with the Zora, and found his lungs shifted in water—bronchi unfurling like fins in his chest. By the time Mipha gifted him her healing power, he could use it even when she wasn’t with him.

The Gorons marveled at his strength, unaware it was growing with every lava-forged trial.
And the Gerudo? He could smell the storm before it came. His fingers crackled with the memory of thunder— and after Urbosa’s spirit was freed, the power doubled . Daruk’s shield, too, no longer flickered—it responded to him like breath.

Even the Sheikah. Apparently, their stealth wasn’t solely outfit-based, as he found himself not even needing to be careful to sneak up on Zelda now, after so many weeks haunting Kakariko Village.

Each race left a mark. Each bond rewrote him.

The Sheikah called it a miracle. Or a fluke. Or something else they didn’t want to name out loud.

Zelda had called it a gift , once.
Link wasn’t sure he agreed.

Because every night—when the mask dropped, and the sand and soot washed away—he slept like the dead. Deep, dreamless, and impossible to wake for at least four hours. The body needed it. Demanded it.

Daruk’s Protection still flared around him in his sleep, even now that all the other champions have found peace and moved on. A silent ward, cradling the soldier the world wouldn’t let rest.

He didn’t speak of this.

He cooked, climbed, flew, fought, and occasionally pranked royal correspondence with Yiga fruit baskets.

But when he sat beneath stars—alone, fully himself—he remembered that he had been broken once.

And rebuilt into someone new.

Someone stronger.

Someone still trying to figure out what exactly he’d become.

And as much as Zelda despaired of his lonely contenance, most of the time, he felt safer this way.

Part 1: Arrival

The air still crackled with residual electricity.

Smoke drifted from the scorched ground, the massive Lynel's body slowly disintegrating into motes of dust. Link stood at the cliff's edge, rolling one shoulder, the muscles beneath his Champion’s tunic still tingling from the final blow. The silence was deep now—Lanayru stilled by victory.

Below, the familiar shimmer of Zora’s Domain glowed faintly in the morning mist. He was contemplating the dive—he could sprout fins mid-fall, easy—but then the sky split open.

Not metaphorically.

Literally.

Crack—like a blade tearing parchment.

Link whirled, hand flying to his bow, lightning stirring at his fingertips by instinct.

A golden tear in space bloomed above the field behind him, and with a pop and a sound like a harp string breaking, eight bodies spilled out of nothingness.

They hit the grass like Pebblits flung by a Moblin with no coordination.

One of them, wearing a uniquely patterned tunic—seriously, who wears that many colors at the same time?—immediately threw up. One was moaning something about how it always felt like getting a sword speared through the head . A sixth—noble-looking, tall, slightly green—wobbled to his knees, clutching his head. Most of them were on the ground, moaning in anguish or looking pained.

Only two remained standing: a blond boy in a blue shirt with a lobster on it ( weird, he could swear he owned the exact same one ), and a taller figure with a familiar air of wolf-scent and steel, scanning the horizon with calm, alert eyes.

Link dropped instinctively behind a boulder, crouching low, the light in his fingers snuffing out. A bow materializing from the sheika slate.

Who are these people?

He narrowed his eyes, studying them. They were all armed, some armored, one in tights for some reason— wait, was that a skirt? Strangers. Unannounced teleporting strangers. His grip tightened.

The tall, armored one—older, scarred, commanding—straightened and moved between the others, checking pulses and murmuring to each in turn.

“Everyone alright? Sound off.”

“Goddesses, I can taste cloud,” someone groaned.

Another coughed. “I'm fine. Nothing broken.”

The scarred man scanned the surrounding cliffs, eyes narrowed. “Does anyone recognize the Hyrule we’re in? Twilight? Four?”

That made Link’s breath catch.

Hyrule? Twilight? Four?

There was a beat of silence as heads turned, some slowly, some too fast.

Then one—dignified, tall, with a sword so polished it reflected sky—said it out loud:

“New Hyrule. Then… there must be a new Link. Should we start with the locals—or the black-blooded ones?”

Link flinched.

He ducked lower behind the boulder, heart hammering. That word. That name . The way they said it—like a title, a signal, like they were looking for him .

Whoever they were, he felt, without knowing why, that somehow everything was going to change.

The strangers headed down the path toward the glittering spires of Zora’s Domain, moving cautiously, warily. 

He’d even dropped some mighty bananas along their path. They didn’t bite, so— probably not Yiga.

Link, now back in his Rito-form , glided overhead, wings tucked tight, blending with the clouds. He’d heard them talking. The blue one— Wind, apparently —had recognized the structure from his own Hyrule. Said the Zora were friendly. The one with the dramatic scarf— Legend, he thought —had muttered something about them being temperamental .

Smart. They were, sometimes. But not today.

Link pulled into a dive, feathers giving way midair to his usual form, landing in a spray of water beside the bridge. Two Zora guards jumped, but before they could speak, he was already jogging inside.

“Where’s Sidon?” he called, half-whispering. “Visitors inbound. Weird ones. Armed.”

The guards exchanged glances but said nothing. They’d learned not to question him when he was in this kind of mood.

By the time the Chain reached the Domain’s upper platforms, they were drenched from the mist, stunned by the architecture, and already regretting the steep decline of the path. Most of them had the grace not to pant audibly. Most.

And then came Sidon.

Bursting from the throne area with arms wide, teeth sparkling, and joy practically radiating off his scales.

“Welcome, travelers! I am Prince Sidon, Son and Heir of King Dorephan, and it is my utmost pleasure to greet you and welcome you to Zora’s Domain!”

He threw his arms around Wind like a long-lost brother. Wind, unfazed, hugged back with pirate casualness.

The others—especially Time and Warriors—stood frozen. Sidon was… large. And beaming . And rippling with muscle. And his mouth was full of razor-sharp teeth that somehow didn’t make his smile any less genuine.

“You honor us with your presence!” Sidon continued. “You must have come a long way. May I ask what brings you to our Domain?”

Time stepped forward, formal but cautious. “We’re looking for someone. A Hylian—short, blond, blue tunic, probably quiet type. His name is Link.”

Sidon’s fins perked. His voice remained friendly, but now tinged with interest. “Link?” Sidon repeated, surprised but brightening. “Yes, we know him well.”

Several heads in the group snapped to attention.

Sky stepped forward. “You do? You’ve seen him recently?”

Sidon smiled wider. “Indeed! He is one of the finest allies Zora’s Domain has known. He helped us defeat the Divine Beast Vah Ruta. Fought beside me. He even surfs waterfalls.” He paused, then added with absolute sincerity, “ Surfs them.”

He was warming up now.

“His aim is true, his spirit unshakable, and I have never seen someone take down a Lynel solo . He is elusive, yes, but I assure you—unforgettable.”

High above , behind a decorative cascade wall, Link facepalmed into both hands, red in the ears and nearly sliding off his perch.

“Sidon, please. Even Daruk’s Protection won’t save me from embarrassment-induced self-combustion.”

Back below, the Chain stood in stunned silence, caught between awe and a deep, existential sense of inadequacy.

Four coughed. “Okay. So. Local Hero. Got it.”

Legend kicked a rock. “Do we have to meet him?”

Wind grinned. “You’re jealous already.”

Sidon looked between them all, clearly noticing the shift in mood. “If you're hoping to find him, you may face some difficulty. He doesn’t always share his itinerary. But—” and here his grin turned sly, “I’ve found he tends to show up exactly when he’s needed.”

From his perch, Link sighed.

“Not if I keep hiding behind waterfalls, I won’t.”

Night in Zora’s Domain was quiet—still water reflecting silver moonlight, soft glowing corals lighting the walkways, the air thick with mist and distant music.

The Chain had been offered guest quarters, and while some (Wind, naturally) immediately cannonballed into the pools, others lingered in the common areas, asking questions.

Prince Sidon had personally escorted them to the throne room where King Dorephan, vast and ancient, greeted them with regal calm. Though he moved slowly, his voice had weight.

“Link is… unconventional,” Dorephan said, which from him was high praise. “He has our gratitude. And our concern.”

“Concern?” Time asked, always the tactician.

“He returns from the dead, wields lightning, disappears for weeks, and reappears with new scars and fewer explanations,” the king replied. “But when he is needed, he is always there. That is what matters.”

Later, the Chain split off, speaking to Zora across the Domain.

Young guards raved about Link’s fighting skill. “He used a Lynel’s own blade against it! Who does that?”

A blacksmith’s apprentice whispered, “He can cook so well. I mean usually I prefer my fish raw, you know? But I still dream about his glazed bass with truffle sauce.”

One elder Zora, Muzu , sniffed disdainfully. “Too many explosions. And he never answers questions properly. But I suppose he’s shown to be reliable, if a bit tardy.”

Another muttered, “I saw him go hunting lightning arrows from a Lynel. During a lightning storm . Barefoot. Madness.”

A younger Zora woman, dreamy-eyed, said, “He’s Prince Sidon’s dearest friend. Obviously he’s amazing.”

That got a snort from another nearby, arms crossed and frowning.
“He’s not that special. If Prince Sidon weren’t so—so… fond , no one would care.”

The first giggled. “No need to be jealous, dear.

Sure, plenty fangirl about their union , but everybody knows the Champion’s not interested in that kind of relationship with anybody . And His Highness is already promised,” she sighed, “ unfortunately .”

Meanwhile, the Chain tried to piece it all together.

“Stoic, quiet, good in a fight, but keeps vanishing,” Warriors recited. “Sound familiar to anyone?”

Twilight looked at Time. “It’s like if you were feral.”

“Thank you,” Time said flatly.

Wind slurped his third cup of Zora fruit punch. “I like him already.”

Sky rubbed his chin. “But why hasn’t he shown himself?”

They all looked at Sidon, who was in the middle of re-enacting some heroic feat involving a shock arrow and a Hinox.

“He’ll come when he’s ready,” the prince said confidently. “He always does.”

Above them, curled between decorative spires, Link lounged flat on his back, arms behind his head, watching the stars through the cascading mists.

He could hear every word. The praise. The sniping. The awe. The assumptions.

He sighed through his nose. "Unconventional." Guess that's polite for 'weird little gremlin who keeps saving the world.'"

Still, a tiny smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

They don’t seem hostile, but I’ll keep on watching.

The path from Zora’s Domain to the nearest stable was, according to Sidon, “a pleasant stroll through the hills.”

What Sidon meant was a long, winding trail filled with monster camps, and suspiciously rickety bridges, all the while going dangerously downhill.

By midday, the Chain looked like they’d been traveling for a week.

Wind had stripped down to a tank and was dragging his boots behind him like a kid who lost a bet. Warriors had stopped grooming his hair. Legend was breathing like he'd been cursed again. Even Time, the unshakable rock, had paused twice to rest—and that never happened.

“Why is everything downhill?” groaned Hyrule, half-hunched over.

“Is this entire Hyrule built on a mountain range?” Sky muttered, wiping sweat from his brow.

Twilight didn't answer—he was too busy trying to coax a bird off his shoulder that had decided he was part of the scenery.

Above them , darting from cliff to cliff with practiced ease, Link followed in silence, cloaked in Sheikah stealth and a growing sense of disbelief.

They were tired. From this?

Sure, it was rocky, somewhat slippery, and the heat didn’t help, but the path was clear . At least now it was. He’d spent the last hour dismantling the nearby monster camps in advance—mostly Lizalfos, easily dispatched with Rivali’s Gale, bullet time, and a few well-placed bombs.

He left the gear, of course. Didn’t want them getting suspicious.

But the cooking fire ? He couldn’t help it. He’d whipped up some Endura shrooms and honeyed apples, left them neatly on a log next to a still-smoldering Bokoblin firepit. A silent offering. Not too obvious.

When the Chain reached the site, they froze.

A monster camp—clearly abandoned. Signs of a recent fight. But no monsters. Just... food. Hot, neatly wrapped, and definitely safe-smelling.

“Okay,” Legend said warily, sniffing a skewer. “This is either a trap… or the gods have started pitying us.”

“I’m eating it,” Wind said, already halfway through one.

Sky took a cautious bite—and then immediately sat down.

“I feel like I could run a marathon,” he mumbled around a mouthful. “This is blessed.”

Twilight tested a piece of roasted fish, chewed, then blinked. “…This is the best thing I’ve tasted in three days.”

Warriors made a low noise of agreement. “Still hot, too. Whoever made this must’ve just left.”

They all looked around. Slowly. Suspiciously.

“Do you think it’s him?” Hyrule asked quietly.

Time didn’t answer right away. He was scanning the treetops.

“Maybe. But if it is…” He smirked faintly. “He’s good.”

A short distance up the cliff, Link leaned back against the stone, watching them through slitted eyes.

They weren’t dumb. They were starting to notice. But they were eating , and well, he could never watch people suffer. 

Somehow these people were suffering from walking down a perfectly marked and mostly downhill path.

So, at the risk of arousing suspicion, he’d help them get to the stable. At the very least.

Part 2: The Culinary Cryptid and the Bananas Conspiracy

By the time the Chain dragged themselves up the last slope to the Lanayru Road stable, they looked like a group of very determined, very sunburned ghosts.

Wind collapsed near the trough. Hyrule face-planted into the grass. Warriors muttered something about requisitioning a wagon next time.

And Link?

Already there.

Hunched over the stable’s outdoor cooking pot, hood pulled low, sleeves rolled up, casually flipping a perfectly seared Salt-Grilled Prime Meat with the practiced grace of someone who made this same meal while actually sleeping.

He didn’t look up when the Chain arrived. Just kept working, fire crackling, pan sizzling.

Inside, Time approached the stable master—a middle-aged Hylian with sun-bleached hair and the look of someone who’d seen too much weirdness to question things anymore.

“Excuse me,” Time said. “We’re looking for someone. A young man—shorter, blond, probably silent. Goes by Link. Might be local.”

The stable master blinked.

Then blinked again.

His eyes flicked—not toward the road, not toward the mountains—but directly at the hooded figure by the fire .

Then back to Time.

Then back to Link.

Back to Time.

“…Uh. Yeah,” he said slowly. “Sure. Head toward the castle. Everyone says he’s around there. Quiet type.” Then he paused, “Could I interest you in some mighty bananas? There was a sale.”

Behind him, Link didn’t even flinch. Just stirred the pan and added a pinch of salt.

The stable master gave him a full-body incredulous look that screamed: “Dude. Really?”

Link, still not looking up, very casually flipped his venison slice.

Back outside:

Wind sniffed the air. “Whoever that is,” he said, pointing vaguely toward the cooking spot, “they’re better at this than us.”

Sky rubbed his shoulder. “Do you think he was the one who left that food?”

Twilight followed the scent, eyes narrowing. “Could be.”

They all looked over.

Just a guy in a blue hood, cooking.

Seemingly normal.

Definitely not radiating ancient divine Hero energy.

Legend leaned toward Warriors. “If that is him, I’m going to scream.”

Link stood up. Slowly. Picked up his plate. Turned.

He didn’t look directly at them, just gave a slow, neutral nod as he passed by. Calm. Casual. His hood shadowing his face.

Wind opened his mouth to say something—

But Link slipped behind the stable, vanished like mist.

Just a traveler. Nothing to see here.

Time turned back to the stable master.

“ah.. thank you, but we’re good. Have a good evening—and thanks for the directions.”

The man just shook his head, muttering. “Adventurers. At least they’re not Yiga.”

The fire sputtered like it was trying to escape its own fate.

Link crouched low behind a nearby tree, just outside the stable perimeter, hidden in the shadows of the late dusk. The scent of overcooked meat was wafting directly into his face, and it was offensive.

Across the clearing, the group of strangers—armed, scarred, absurdly mismatched —were huddled around the stable’s outdoor cooking spot. Trying to cook . Emphasis on trying.

Twilight was currently jabbing at a skillet like it had insulted him. Warriors stirred something with the wrong end of a spoon. Hyrule had stepped back several feet, looking concerned. Wind was fanning the fire with what might have once been a map.

Legend poked a mushroom skewer with a dagger. “Is this… supposed to hiss?”

Sky took a brave bite of a scorched chunk of meat and immediately coughed. “Charred,” he rasped. “Very… smoky.”

Link winced. “Smoky” was generous. It looked like they’d defeated a Bokoblin with the food and just served it as-is.

He squinted as Time, the one with authority written all over him, sprinkled what looked like sugar on raw fish and tossed it into the flames.

“…I need to do something about this,” Link muttered under his breath.

But he didn’t move. Not yet.

Around the crackling disaster, the group settled into awkward silence.

Twilight finally said, “So, Zora’s Domain. Why do you think Hylia dropped us there, of all places?”

Wind, still holding a burnt mushroom by two fingers, shrugged. “Usually it’s near the Hero. That’s what’s happened every time before, right?”

Hyrule nodded. “It’s not random. There’s always purpose.”

Legend leaned back, arms behind his head. “So the Hero might have been nearby… and we just missed him.”

Sky looked up at the darkening sky. “Maybe we’re being tested. Maybe he’s watching us.”

Warriors gestured at the skillet. “If he saw this , he probably ran.”

They all laughed—except for Time, who simply looked toward the mountains, thoughtful.

“There’s a pattern,” he said quietly. “This Hyrule isn’t dangerous anymore. But something’s still off.”

Link’s ears perked up.

“What if… we’re not here to help fight?” Time continued. “What if we’re here for the Hero himself ?”

Silence followed that.

Wind leaned forward. “To help him?”

Sky whispered, “Or guide him.”

Hyrule frowned. “But why now? And where is he?”

They all turned, unconsciously, toward the castle in the distance.

Time’s voice was calm but certain. “If he’s who we think he is… he’ll find us.”

Behind the tree, Link slowly stood, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

They weren’t looking for power. They were looking for him.
And they didn’t want to control him.
They wanted to help.

He looked down at their campfire again. The fish was now stuck to the pan. Someone had tried to make mushroom risotto in a frying pan with no water.

Okay, he thought, maybe they need a little help first.

For the first time since they arrived, Link smiled.

Just a little.

Morning broke gently over the hills, golden light painting the grass in soft waves.

The Chain began to stir around their smoldering campfire, yawns and groans rising like morning fog.

Then Wind sat up abruptly.

“Uh… guys?”

Time cracked an eye open. “What?”

Wind pointed to the cookpot.

Neatly arranged beside it—on smooth, flat stones—were eight packed meals, each wrapped in clean cloth, tied with twine, and labeled in oddly precise Sheikah script.

- **Sky** – Honeyed fruit and energizing grain cakes.  

- **Warriors** – Spicy grilled meat with roasted peppers.  

- **Legend** – Strong-smelling tea and dried fish jerky.  

- **Hyrule** – Healing herb salad and mushroom rice.  

- **Four & Wind** – Perfectly shaped rice balls (seafood and mushroom, respectively).  

- **Twilight** – Meaty stir fry, savory and rich.  

- **Time** – Balanced meat-and-vegetable skewers, classic and hearty.

Twilight held up his meal, suspicious. “Did… anyone here cook this?”

Everyone shook their heads.

Warriors sniffed his. “It’s warm. Like it was finished just before sunrise.”

Sky blinked. “But we didn’t hear anything.”

Legend opened his package and frowned. “This is actually… edible.”

Wind and Four wordlessly exchanged portions. then the younger proceeded to stuff his face. “Mmf—he’s back! Ghost Chef is real!”

“Ghost Chef?” Hyrule repeated.

Wind swallowed and sat up straighter. “Think about it! No monsters on the road. Perfect meals at monster camps. Mystery food at the stable. And now this.”

Twilight slowly nodded. “Someone’s… watching us.”

“Helping us,” Sky added. “Silently.”

Time looked at the food, then to the forest. “No footprints. No noise. Whoever it is knows how to move.”

Legend scowled. “It’s creepy.”

Hyrule smiled faintly. “It’s kind of sweet.”

“We are being haunted,” Warriors muttered. “By a domestic cryptid.”

They all turned to look at him.

“What?” he said. “He fights monsters, leaves food, and doesn’t talk. That’s basically a forest spirit.”

Several trees away , flat on his stomach in the grass, Link buried his face in his sleeve to stifle a laugh.

Ghost Chef. Seriously?

He watched as they began packing up—eating, chatting, theorizing. Not a single one of them connected the helpful presence to the Hero they were chasing.

They still don’t know it’s me. They think I’m a culinary cryptid.

He stretched, rolled to his feet, and brushed grass from his tunic.

Fine. Let them keep guessing.

He paused, halfway into a shadowed path, and looked back once.

Just for a second.

They’re not so bad.

Then he was gone again. Silent. Unseen.

But not far.

The road curved lazily through a wooded hill, birds chirping, breeze rustling. The Chain, now on their 3rd of travel since leaving the stable, was tired, a little sun-dazed, and still debating what the Goddess wanted from them.

They spotted a traveler heading the other way—a tall man in a red hood and sandaled feet, walking with the awkward bounce of someone trying to seem casual.

Time raised a hand in greeting. “Afternoon, traveler.”

The man paused. “Afternoon! Beautiful day for walking, huh? Very… normal.”

Sky smiled warmly. “Have you by any chance seen a man? Blond, silent, blue tunic, kind of... heroic?”

Twilight added, “His name is Link. We’re looking for him.”

The traveler blinked.

Then tilted his head.

“Wait. You’re looking for Link?”

Hyrule nodded. “You’ve heard of him?”

“He’s famous,” Wind chimed in. “Right?”

The traveler rubbed his neck, brow furrowed.

“Okay, hold on— that’s my line.”

The Chain blinked.

“I’m supposed to say that. ‘Blond guy in blue? Never heard of him.’ Then I attack you. You’re ruining the rhythm.”

Warriors’ hand drifted toward his sword. “...What?”

The traveler looked genuinely offended. “Are you with a different cell? You don’t look like Yiga—your boots are way too practical—and why would H.Q. assign eight agents to shadow my territory?!”

Legend raised a brow. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Traveler: “I mean, if this is a special op, sure, I’ll back off, but you could’ve left a note!”

There was a long silence.“I’m confused,” Sky said honestly.

“Wait,” Warriors cut in, “what’s a Yiga?”

The man paled.

“...Oh. Oh no. Oh no-no-no-no—this is not protocol—”

He took a step back. “So you’re not... oh boy. That’s gonna be a demerit.”

Twilight stepped forward. “You alright?”

The traveler made an awkward finger-gun motion, then burst into a puff of smoke with a poof! —a single banana falling to the ground where he stood.

Everyone stared at the banana.

“What the actual hell just happened?” Legend said flatly.

Sky looked around. “So... what is a Yiga?”

Warriors poked the banana with his sword. “Do bananas normally teleport?”

Up the hill , on a rock ledge above the road, Link was doubled over.

His hood had fallen back, face flushed with laughter, tears streaming down his cheeks as he clutched his ribs.

“That’s it,” he gasped. “I’m dead. That actually killed me.”

He wiped a tear from his cheek, then took another bite of a roasted lotus root he’d packed just for this.

Best day ever.

They stood in a loose circle around the single banana.

No one moved.

No one spoke.

Finally, Wind bent down, picked it up by the stem, and held it up like it might explode.

“...Do you think it’s cursed?”

Legend crossed his arms. “That man exploded. And left this . I’m not saying it’s cursed, but I’m also not not saying it’s cursed.”

Hyrule leaned in. “Should we… keep it?”

Twilight slowly nodded. “For evidence.”

Warriors blinked. “Of what? Bizarre fruit-based crimes?”

Four tapped his chin. “Wait… didn’t the stable master offer us bananas when we passed through the wetlands? And there were a bunch just sitting out on that path uphill of Zora’s Domain…”

They all paused.

“...Are we being followed by bananas ?” Wind asked, aghast.

“Or,” Hyrule said slowly, “have the bananas been following him? ”

Time finally broke the silence. “We’ll ask Zelda. She’ll know what a Yiga is.”

Legend muttered, “She better. Because I’m not trusting a single fruit until we get answers.”

Up on his hill, Link was trying very hard not to scream-laugh again.

“Banana-based conspiracy. This is what happens when you don’t brief the tourists.”

He wiped his mouth, tucked his own banana away in his pack, and vanished once again into the trees— just ahead of them .

Part 3: Impa you troll!

Quite some time later, as in ten days , from high above on a windswept ridge, Link watched them trudge through a field of wildflowers— still two hours to the castle and morale at an all-time low.

He squatted like a hawk perched too long in human form, resting his chin in one hand. His Rito-trained vision picked out each of them easily.

Wind was skipping rocks at birds, Sky looked like he was repenting with every step, Legend had officially declared war on his boots and Warriors was muttering under his breath about needing foot massages “like, hero-grade ones.”

“Two weeks,” Link whispered to himself, incredulous. “Two weeks to cross what takes me four days, and they’ve formed a civil war over cooking duties and who carries the water skins.”

Still, he grinned.

Every third or fourth day, he’d drop perfectly preserved meals at their camps, balanced delicately on flat stones. Sometimes he'd rearrange their gear just slightly. One night, he replaced their flint pouch with Glowshrooms and made their fire look like a fairy circle . Another time, he swapped Time’s sword hilt wrap with a shiny beetle skin and watched him politely lose it .

He was breathless with laughter most nights.
A very stealthy menace, lurking above like a sarcastic thunderbird.

And still—still—they had no idea.

Finally, when the Chain was within a few hours of Hyrule Castle, Link peeled off and made for the faster route. With Rivali’s Gale, swift feet, and very little patience, he was at the castle gates before their boots hit the hill.

The guards waved him in without a second glance. He didn’t even slow down.

A few hours before the Chain would arrive at the castle gates, Zelda was deep in reports from lookout scouts: minor monster movements, Sheikah tech malfunctions, the usual.

Then came the knock.

Not from the front gate. From her window.

She looked up sharply—just in time to see the drape flutter and a note pinned to the sill with a gleaming arrowhead.

Her heart sank. “Oh, for the love of—Link!”

She rushed to the window, but the only thing outside was a faint swirl of dust and the dying echo of footfalls on stone.

The note was short. Typical.

“Group of strangers inbound. Armed, confused, not hostile, not Yiga. Say nothing. Watch first. They don’t know me. Don’t ask.
P.S. not one of them can cook.
P.P.S. please pretend I’m in the desert again.
—L”

Zelda let the note fall to the desk, face buried in her hands.

“He’s treating this like a game.”

And yet—beneath the exasperation—her mind was already moving. If he thought they were important… she’d play along. For now.

Hours later, when the Chain arrived at the gates, Zelda already had her composure—and her script—ready.

The Chain stood in the vaulted halls of Hyrule Castle, a little awed, a little grimy, and a lot confused by how… peaceful everything felt. No tension. No monsters at the gates. Just the soft sound of guards on patrol and the distant ringing of bells from the town below.

Zelda entered the audience chamber with her usual composed grace, flanked by two knights. She looked like she hadn’t slept, but still held her head high.

“Welcome, travelers,” she said. “Your presence was unexpected. State your purpose.”

Time stepped forward and bowed. “We mean no harm, Your Highness. We were sent here by the Goddess Hylia herself—brought across time and space.”

That earned a pause. Zelda blinked. “Hylia… sent you?”

Sky nodded. “We are all incarnations of the Hero. From different eras. We call ourselves the Chain since we’re all actually named Link”

There was silence.

Zelda studied them again, eyes sharper now. A flicker of doubt faded to wary understanding.

“So you’re all… him .”

Wind grinned. “Versions of him, yeah.”

Legend muttered, “Less silent, though.”

Zelda's brow furrowed. “And you were sent here—to this Hyrule—for what reason?”

Hyrule stepped forward. “We’ve encountered strange monsters. Black blood. Corrupted beyond what we know. We believe they're connected. Something bigger is coming.”

Zelda’s expression went from concern to confusion.

“Black blooded?” she repeated. “That… describes most monsters in this realm. That’s how they’ve always looked since the Calamity. You think that’s abnormal ?”

The Chain looked at each other.

Twilight spoke. “Where we come from, they’re rare. They signal… something else. Something worse.”

Zelda slowly sat down on the throne’s edge, processing.

“So… the Goddess brought you here to fight monsters that are normal to us. And you think our Hero is central to all this?”

Time nodded once. “We believe so.”

Zelda sighed. A hand rose to her forehead. “Well. That sounds exactly like something Link would not tell me.”

Wind laughed.

Sky, still rubbing his temples from the travel, lifted a hand hesitantly. “Your Highness, there’s something else we… wanted to ask.”

Zelda glanced at him. “Yes?”

He looked to the others, who were all slowly nodding, as if confirming that yes, it was indeed time to address the banana in the room.

Sky continued, carefully: “What… is a Yiga ?”

Zelda froze mid-blink.

Twilight added, “We met a traveler on the road. Seemed shifty. Mentioned the name, then panicked and vanished. In smoke. Left a banana behind.”

Time, deadpan: “We are currently carrying the banana for evidence.”

Zelda blinked again. Then pressed her fingers against her mouth.

“Nobody warned you about the Yiga?”

All heads slowly turned to each other, then back to her.

“No,” Legend said flatly. “Unless offering us free bananas count?”

Zelda made a soft, strangled sound. “The Yiga Clan are a cult of assassins. Deranged. Obsessed with bananas and killing Link.”

There was silence.

Then Warriors gestured vaguely. “That would’ve been good to know two weeks ago. ”

Wind hissed, “We touched the banana!”

Twilight muttered, “I ate one.”

Zelda sighed again, sinking deeper into the throne. “Goddesses help me. Well you’re going to need to find him now.”

She looked up, eyes narrowing slightly—mischief glinting.

“He’s been out of contact, as usual. But if you want to find him…”
She smiled, very dryly. “When he’s bored, he tends to hunt Molduga in the Gerudo Desert.”

Above, unseen, Link bit back a laugh from his perch behind the high arch window. He mouthed: “Rude.”

Still. Fair.

The Chain arrived in Kakariko Village with high hopes and low stamina. The sun had dipped behind the hills, casting long shadows over the quiet lantern-lit paths, and the smell of fresh bread and grilled mushrooms drifted through the air.

“We’ll stop here for the night,” Time said, eyeing the peaceful ridgeline. “Then head toward the canyon pass tomorrow.”

Twilight nodded. “Kakariko’s always been a place of knowledge. Maybe they’ll know where this Link is.”

Inside Lady Impa’s home, the Chain removed their boots respectfully. The air smelled of old scrolls and warm tea.

Impa sat like a stone carving, hands folded, gaze sharp.

They bowed.

“We’re looking for your Hero,” Time said. “Link.”

She tilted her head. “So are many.”

Sky stepped forward. “We’ve heard stories. We think he’s connected to something larger. We’d hoped to speak with him.”

Impa’s eyes shifted—not toward the Chain, but up, as if praying for patience.

Looking directly at link, eating a juicy apple, somewhat silently, and listening from the shadow, crouched on a plank.

She returned her gaze to them, face unreadable.

“He hasn’t been by lately. ”

Legend nodded solemnly. “Figures. He seems elusive.”

“...Yes,” Impa said. “Terribly.”

Paya offered them tea and blushed so hard her whole face went crimson when asked about Link.

“He’s so brave,” she stammered. “And quiet. And brave. And so— so —dedicated.”

Twilight raised an eyebrow. “You mentioned brave twice.”

“I meant it twice ,” she whispered.

Behind the curtain, Link leaned just far enough to peek through, one hand covering his snort.

Coco, standing near her tiny market stall, beamed as she packed up ingredients.

“Link helps me cook sometimes! He says mushrooms are best when pan-fried with a dash of salt and exactly three seconds of silence per side. ”

Sky smiled warmly. “That sounds like him.”

“Also, he once traded me a Lynel hoof for a pumpkin,” she added. “Which was kind of scary. But the soup was great.”

Meanwhile, the villagers watched the heroes with increasing confusion.

Because directly across the path, the man they were describing was actively haggling for Swift Carrots, chasing a Ku koo, and helping a small child retrieve a kite from a rooftop.

No hood. No disguise. Just Link, being Link .

One elderly Sheikah leaned to another. “Should we… say something?”

The other sipped tea. “Let them figure it out.”

The Chain reconvened by the inn.

“So no direct leads,” Hyrule said, scratching his neck.

Wind pointed up the hill. “We could try the food stall again? That kid said she saw a guy in blue earlier—”

“That’s half the village,” Warriors groaned.

As they debated, Link strolled past them with a bundle of herbs, casually nodding to Paya, who turned purple and nearly dropped a cup.

No one in the Chain noticed.

In the trees above, a squirrel tilted its head at Link, clearly judging him.

He grinned.

“Not yet,” he murmured. “Let them chase the myth a little longer.”

Part 4: Gerudo Games

Kara Kara Bazaar shimmered under the desert sun, the oasis reflecting the sky like a glass bowl. The Chain had regrouped under the shade of a canvas tarp, sipping icy drinks, fanning themselves, and slowly melting into the sand.

“This heat is unnatural,” muttered Warriors, tugging at his collar.

Wind dunked his scarf in the water and draped it over his head. “We’re gonna die out here and all they’ll find is a bunch of boots and one really good sword.”

Sky, ever optimistic, held up a frosty bottle. “At least Terry sold us this Chilly Elixir. He even threw in the bottle for free when he saw the beetle crawling over Twilight!”

Twilight sipped it warily. “Tastes like… spicy mint and regret.”

Time approached Terry’s stall, eyeing the inventory while the merchant buzzed in his usual hyper voice.

“Hey, hey! Welcome, my best customers! Looking for gear? Elixirs? Cold shrooms? Glowing bugs that scream?”

“We’re actually looking for someone,” Time said. “Blond. Blue eyes. Probably stoic. Answers to the name Link.”

Terry tapped his chin dramatically. “Hmm. Name doesn’t ring a Rupee. But people come through all the time. Could’ve passed by yesterday and I wouldn’t know—unless they bought something.”

Twilight nodded. “Thanks anyway.”

Next, they encountered Bozai , lounging under a tree, sweat gleaming off his brow like he thought it was dramatic.

“Excuse us,” Legend said flatly. “Have you seen anyone matching this description—tall, blond, kind of broody?”

Bozai gave them a once-over. “Nope. Not interested in boys.”

“...We’re not—” Legend began, and wisely stopped.

Bozai waved a hand. “But have you seen her? My future girlfriend? She’s perfect—tall, blonde, mysterious, super fast. She ran past here once—like whoosh! Pure desert poetry.”

Twilight raised a brow. “...You’re sure she was real?”

Bozai held a hand above his head. “About this tall. Fierce look. Brave. Clothed like a Gerudo. Probably from the town. My soulmate.”

Behind the tarp , a vai-clad figure tiptoed around a corner, hugging the shade.

Link , in full disguise—veil fluttering, with sand boots, eyes gleaming with mischief.

He paused just long enough to make eye contact with Wind, placed a finger to his lips, and winked.

Then darted behind a market stand, slipping toward the pass that led to Gerudo Town, skirt swishing in the wind.

Wind, jaw hanging open, slowly turned back to the group.

“...Bozai’s not wrong,” he said faintly. “She was gorgeous.”

Legend blinked. “Who?”

Wind shook his head. “No one. I think the heat’s getting to me.”

Back at the edge of the bazaar, a merchant nudged her neighbor. “Aren’t those the weird travelers asking about the Hero?”

The other pointed to Link’s disappearing silhouette. “Yep. And he’s right there. ”

“Do we tell them?”

The first one sipped her tea. “Nah. They’ll figure it out. Eventually.”

The scorching wind howled over the dunes as the Chain approached the towering gate of Gerudo Town.

Sweat-streaked, sand-dusted, and slightly sunburnt, they came with hope, determination— and absolutely no understanding of local law.

At the gate, a stoic Gerudo guard raised her hand.

“Halt. Vai only. No voe allowed inside.”

Time stepped forward, regal as ever. “I have a pass,” he said, producing a scroll from a weathered pouch.

The guard accepted it, squinting at the faded script.

Then squinting harder.

Then slowly looked up at him.

“This pass expired… five thousand years ago.”

Time blinked. “It’s a relic.”

“Exactly. Into the museum, not the city.”

Wind stepped up next, cheerful and undeterred. “Okay, okay, what if I’m a kid ? Kids aren’t really ‘voe,’ right?”

The guard gave him a look .

“Be that as it may, all voe, regardless of age, are prohibited. Even small ones with too much energy.”

Wind pouted. “But I’m adorable.”

“Still voe.” She bit back, while silently agreeing, he WAS adorable!

Meanwhile, inside the city, Link leaned against a fruit stall, munching on chilled melon slices in full vai attire.

He watched through the slats of the gatehouse as the others slowly crumbled into despair and sandburn.

Time’s shoulders sank. Wind kicked at the ground. Legend was silently cursing every dune between them and home.

Link flicked a rupee to the vendor and turned to find a rooftop perch—perfect for spying, snacking, and not helping.

Outside, defeated, the Chain retreated from the gate and took shelter in the mouth of the desert shrine, carved into the canyon rock.

Sky pressed his back to the cool stone. “Why didn’t we think this through?”

Warriors dropped onto the sand. “Because we’ve been searching for that epic gremlin for forever and getting too tired to think..”

Legend glared up at the sun. “I’m going to melt. I’m going to become a puddle and Hylia can deal with it.”

Twilight shook out his scarf. “We need a new plan.”

Wind was already rummaging through his bag. “What if I trade my boots for a dress?”

“No,” said everyone at once.

Above them, from the shrine’s ledge, Link watched, upside-down from a beam.

He considered helping . Briefly.

Then pulled out a pen and scribbled a note on a piece of parchment.

“Still no closer. Morale low. Out of water. Time may cry.
Almost a month now. They have still not seen me.
Gerudo Town secure.”

He folded the note like an origami bird and let it blow away dramatically.

Two days later, Still sun-drenched and dignity-light, the Chain was finally granted an audience with Chief Riju —courtesy of the guards (and perhaps some pity). They were ushered in through the side gate, allowed to wait in a shaded, stone-walled antechamber near the training grounds.

Then came Riju, flanked by Buliara, poised and composed, eyes flicking from scarf to sand-stained boot.

“You’ve caused quite a stir, strangers.”

Time stepped forward with a practiced bow. “We’re searching for your Hero—Link. We mean no offense by our presence.”

Riju crossed her arms. “Link… is different. He is the only voe allowed inside these walls. That is a privilege earned through honor, sacrifice, and saving our people from a Divine Beast.”

She paced a few steps.

“He helped us tame Vah Naboris. Recovered the Thunder Helm. Faced the Yiga on our behalf. Fought beside me. Protected my people.”

Sky nodded reverently. “That sounds like him.”

Wind whispered, “So cool…”

Riju turned, golden eyes sharp. “He was here recently. Restocking, healing. But he left two days ago—there have been Molduga sightings east of town. He went to handle it.”

Legend groaned softly.

Twilight’s jaw tightened. “How far east?”

“Far,” Riju said with a knowing smile. “If you hurry, you might catch him. If you don’t you might as well go back north. He won’t stay in the desert very long afterwards.”

Two hours in, the Chain was trudging through the blazing sun, sand sticking to every crevice, boots full of grit, and morale hanging by the thinnest of threads.

The wind howled.

Sky was praying for a cloud.

Warriors had taken off his scarf and was using it as head gear.

Time was silent, clearly trying to pretend he wasn’t cooking inside his armor.

And then they crested a dune.

The Molduga lay in a heap—slain, still smoking, already sand-blasted clean by the desert wind.

The battlefield was marked by precision strikes. Shock fruit fragments. Exploded barrels. A pit of scorched earth where something had detonated.

“We just missed him ,” Hyrule wheezed.

Wind fell to his knees. “We got played. By a guy in a dress.”

Up on a nearby cliff , stretched across a sun-warmed rock like a smug lynel, Link watched them through a spyglass, legs crossed, an slice of chilly melon in hand.

He chewed slowly, watching as Warriors sat down in the sand and didn’t get up.

“That’s what you get,” he whispered, “for not knowing how to cook rice.”

He took another bite, sun in his face, completely content.

Still not ready to reveal himself.

But maybe soon.

Part 5: The Wrath of the Wild

The road back from Gerudo to the castle was long, hot, and increasingly full of silence.

Link had resumed his role as the invisible shepherd, swooping in every few days to leave food, sabotage their map orientation just enough to make them grumble but not get lost, and occasionally replace their cold elixir with tomato juice.

He did it out of love.

Mostly.

Zelda looked up from her desk as a soft thump sounded at her balcony. A second later, the drapes rustled and a familiar voice muttered:

“I wasn't even hiding this time. One of them tripped over my footprints and still didn’t figure it out.”

Zelda turned slowly, arms crossing.

“Link.”

He plopped down in the window seat, pulling a handful of ore from his pouch and tossing a small Topaz into the air.

“Heading to Death Mountain first—need more of these. After that, I’ll hit Akkala. The Citadel’s still crawling with leftover Sentinels.”

Zelda sighed. “Why are you like this.”

“I mean they say sleeping help create the best ideas. I’ve got 100 years worth of pranking material. More seriously... they’ll need direction. Maybe send them to Yunobo?”

He gave her a look that screamed long-suffering guardian.

“Your Highness, with all due respect... they are catastrophically underprepared. If I leave them entirely alone, they’ll either starve, poison themselves, or walk directly into a Guardian while arguing about the best route, except they don’t know any .”

Zelda stared.

“You’re enjoying this.”

Link shrugged. “Sometimes.”

“Link.”

He stood, brushing dust from his tunic. “They’re not bad. Just... tragically unprepared.”

“Then help them .”

He paused at the window. “Already am.”

Zelda picked up a document and threw it harmlessly at his back.

“ Really , Link!”

He was already gone.

Meanwhile – On the Road to the Castle, The Chain was dragging.

Again.

But Time and Twilight walked ahead of the group, slow and steady, eyes on the horizon.

“Have you noticed,” Twilight said quietly, “how we haven’t had to fight anything since the desert?”

Time’s brow furrowed. “I have.”

Twilight kicked a stone. “Food shows up when we’re too tired. Campfires are built. Boots are moved out of the rain.”

Time glanced at him. “You think he’s watching.”

Twilight nodded. “And helping. Just enough.”

They didn’t say it aloud—but both were thinking the same thing.

He's been here the whole time.

At the Castle, the gates opened without fanfare. The guards barely looked up—too used to strange arrivals these days.

In the throne room, Zelda rose with grace and a very carefully neutral expression.

Time stepped forward. “Your Highness. We’ve returned from the desert. We followed your directions but... no luck.”

Zelda raised a brow.

“You mean you still haven’t found him? That’s strange. He was just here.”

Silence.

Then:

“He’s already headed to Death Mountain. Diplomatic envoy business. And honestly,” she added, “he really just likes roast rock.”

Wind blinked. “...Roast rock ?”

Zelda gave him a perfectly royal smile. “It’s an acquired taste.”

Sky, hopeful: “Do you think we’ll catch him?”

Zelda’s eyes gleamed.

“If you’re lucky. Talk to Yunobo. They’re friends. He’ll help you.”

She paused.

“Good luck.”

The pause stretched just long enough.

“You’ll need it.”

Death Mountain rumbled with heat as the Chain climbed the final path toward Goron City. Steam hissed from vents. Lava flowed peacefully below.

Then came Yunobo, running to meet them, arms wide, cheeks flushed with joy.

“Hey!! You’re the guys that are looking for Link everywhere! Welcome! You made it!”

Time offered a tired nod. Warriors slumped against a rock. Wind collapsed onto the ground and refused to get up; so we’re famous now, fantastic .

“Link’s not here,” Yunobo added. “He went east to take care of a huge Igneo Talus problem—BOOM! Outta nowhere! Real mess.”

Sky asked, hopeful, “Will he be back soon?”

Yunobo shrugged. “Maybe? He’s fast. But hey—he left a few things behind. You all look tired. You probably don’t eat enough.”

He gestured toward a large tray of blackened, smoking slabs that sizzled ominously.

“Here! Rock Roast! Link loves this recipe!”

Warriors poked one. It steamed under his finger.

“This is literally a hot rock. ”

Yunobo grinned. “Yup!”

The next morning, with Link briefly occupied fighting off a molten rock monster on the north slope, the Chain collectively decided to stop waiting.

“We should go to Akkala,” Legend said. “If that’s where he’s heading next, we might finally get ahead of him.”

Twilight agreed. “And we’re finally used to the heat. Sort of.”

Sky nodded. “We’re ready. I think.”

They departed before Link returned.

The ruins loomed above them—ancient stone half-swallowed by ivy and time, but still bristling with menace. The crumbling walls of Akkala Citadel whispered of war and fire.

And then the whisper turned into a scream.

A shriek split the air—mechanical, raw, echoing.

Guardian.

“No—two!” Twilight shouted, blades drawn.

Then came the Sentinels, rising like rusted vultures from the far side of the battlements—red lights blinking awake, targeting systems locking in.

They were surrounded.

The Chain scrambled for cover, but it was chaos—crumbling ground, bad angles, and no cover tall enough.

A laser shrieked—Time barely dodged, armor scorched.

“We’re not ready for this!” Warriors growled, sword raised but teeth clenched. “We need to find some cover? We don’t even have any shields?!”

Another pulse, red and rising—

And then the sky exploded.

Wind howled through the shattered rooftop as an upward Gale somehow burst downward, a spiraling column of force and feathers.

Link descended in the center of it—wings wide, cloak snapping, eyes sharp and unblinking.

Then he seems to slow down while arming his bow and manages to fire two blue arrows on the sentinels, eliminating them instantly.

He landed hard, crouched in the dirt, then rose with fluid ease.

And unleashed hell.

With a snap of his fingers, lightning arced—searing and precise—through a Guardian’s neck, frying its circuits mid-charge.

A second later, a bomb rolled beneath another. He didn’t look—just flicked his wrist and boom, stone and metal flying.

A laser screeched toward Hyrule—

But a golden dome of magic flared around him, dispersing the beam with a thunderous shockwave.

Time turned to look—just in time to see who could only be Link toss another bomb over his shoulder, watching it land with the kind of aim that could only be described as smugly divine.

The last Sentinel whirred, charging for the group.

Link inhaled.

And then—

“ZWAAMM!”
A great lightning bolt cracked down from the sky like the wrath of gods.

The Sentinel convulsed, limbs flailing—then went still, smoke curling from its joints.

Silence followed.

No birds. No breeze. Just the stench of ozone and melted ancient tech.

And in the middle of it all, stood Link.

Not hooded. Not hidden.

Wings folding into his back, sparks still dancing along his fingertips, eyes sharp with unspoken warning.

He looked at them—really looked. One hand on his hip. Expression unreadable.

Then, at last, he spoke:

“What the f* were you thinking?!**”

The Chain stared, stunned into silence.

Not just by the words.

But by him.

This wasn’t a shy, silent swordsman.

This was something else entirely.

Something... wild.

Epilogue: Vibe Check

The fire crackled weakly, more smoke than flame, as Time poked at what could generously be called stew. It sloshed in the pot with a suspiciously gray tint. Wind had already retreated a few paces away and was chewing a raw apple in protest.

Twilight broke the silence.
“Still not sure why you waited. You knew we were looking for you.”

From his spot on a sun-warmed boulder, the newly named Wild stretched, wings twitching briefly before fading into his back again. He didn’t look up from the skewer he was carefully turning over the fire—perfectly charred meat, mushrooms, and herbs sizzling with just the right amount of caramelization.

“Honestly?” he said, glancing around. “It came to a point I was too entertained to bother.”
He held out the skewer like a peace offering. “Skewer?”

Hyrule blinked. “You—you’ve been watching us this whole time?”

Wild took a thoughtful bite of his own. “For a while yeah.’” Which didn’t explain anything. At. All.

Warriors choked on air.

Sky, red-faced, looked at the stew. “And you just… let us cook like this ?”

Wild squinted at the pot. “I thought it was a punishment ritual.”

Legend muttered something about needing a do-over.

Twilight raised a brow. “You know we nearly died today, right?”

Wild finally gave a small, real smile.
“Yeah,” he said softly. “That’s why I came out.”

Time stood over the fire, sleeves rolled up, poking at a pan with something… brown in it. Maybe meat. Maybe a vegetable. It was hard to tell. 

Wild, still sitting nearby eating his skewer, twitched . Again.

That is starting to look painful.

When Time added a dash of sugar — sugar—to a mess that was clearly screaming for salt, Wild stood up.

Calmly.

Mechanically.

He walked over, handed his skewer to Four on his way, and without a word, bodily nudged Time out of the way with a sharp hip-check.

Time blinked, stumbling back. “Excuse me?”

Wild didn’t even look up. “Sit down, Grandpa. I’m saving us all.”

He picked up the pan, sniffed it, made a face of genuine pain , and dumped it unceremoniously behind a bush.

“You gave that onion PTSD.”

Hyrule tried to stifle a laugh and failed. Wind was fully on the ground, wheezing.

Time crossed his arms. “I’ve been cooking for decades—”

“You’ve been burning things for decades,” Wild shot back, eyes flaring with that same feral glint he had when he launched lightning at a Guardian two hours ago. “There’s a difference.”

He tossed a small pat of butter into the pan. It sizzled with promise. Mushrooms followed, then thin-sliced meat, herbs, and something spicy. The aroma hit the camp like a divine breeze.

The Chain collectively leaned forward. Eyes widened.

Warriors whispered, “Heaven... smells like this.”

Wild didn’t gloat. He didn’t need to. He just stirred with effortless grace, flicked a skewer into Legend’s stunned hands, and muttered:

“You’ve fought monsters, time loops, and timelines, but your greatest enemy is a frying pan. Pathetic.”

The fire was low, casting long shadows across the ruins. The laughter had quieted, replaced by the kind of silence that only came from shared exhaustion—and new understanding.

Then it happened.

A pulse.

A whisper of divine energy in the air.

And with a sound like a harp string breaking, a Hylia portal tore open in the grass, golden light flooding the clearing.

They all froze.

Sky sat up straight. “Seriously? Now? ”

Twilight’s brow furrowed. “It’s abrupt.”

Sky rubbed his temples. “They’re always abrupt.”

Time stepped forward slightly, glancing back at Wild. “So. What now?”

Wild stood, brushing dust off his tunic and stretching with a yawn, utterly unimpressed by divine phenomena.

“Well. You know, if Hylia really wanted us all together before opening that, it would’ve happened back in Zora’s Domain.”

Several heads snapped toward him.

Legend narrowed his eyes. “Wait a minute.”

“You were already there?! ” Wind squawked.

Wild gave a lazy shrug. “Might’ve been cooking at the stable. Might’ve waved at Paya. Might’ve caught a few chickens.”

Sky looked positively scandalized. “You were there the whole time?! ”

Wild grinned. “You lot walked right past me. Several times. I winked at Wind in Kara Kara.”

Warriors looked like he was trying to calculate the emotional damage. “And you let us make mushroom-milk stew.”

“I did,” Wild said, unrepentant. “For science.”

They all just stared at him.

Wild turned toward the portal, already walking.

“Anyway,” he called over his shoulder, “guess the goddess finally decided you passed the vibe check. Took long enough.”

He stepped into the light.

Gone.

The Chain stood in stunned silence.

“I don’t know whether to thank him,” Twilight said slowly, “or throw him off a cliff.”

Legend muttered, “Let’s do both.”

Then, one by one, they followed.

THE END