Chapter Text
He didn’t have much time.
The cavern was dank and cramped. Darkness clung to all the rough edges, seeping into the uneven stone beneath his feet, but he kept a straight path down — certain of where he was headed.
A light emanated from the deepest reaches that even his torch couldn’t outshine. And while it was distant and small, it was a green so vivid it left a bruise behind his eyes. It made him squint with gritted teeth. He kept on until the light was almost unbearable, his hand lifting as he reached the very end of that corridor. His fingers brushed the cracked stone it emanated from. Strange. The tint was off — the light a warmer color, not like the luminous stone he knew so well.
Link raised the pommel of his sword, and rammed it against the rock. He flinched from the spray of dirt, finding a shard of that glowing stone had fallen to his feet. He picked it up, and before he could turn around, a whisper came from behind him.
“What’s that?”
When he looked, his torch lit the unblinking stares of four muddied, soggy children waiting eagerly for him to show them what was in his hand. Link’s mouth opened, only for a woman’s voice to echo through the dripping tunnels.
“…nk..? Link?”
He immediately motioned for the kids to stay quiet. They all covered their mouths, and the voice quickly turned from questioning to downright angry.
“Link! Answer me!”
Ahh, time’s up.
He looked at the ceiling like he might actually be able to see the voice’s owner. “Hey, Zelda.”
“I know you have the children!”
“Whaaat? No.”
“Don’t you lie to me! Symin told me he spotted you leading them all away after lunch!”
The kids let out a chorus of ‘uh ohs’ and disappointed huffs. Link put a hand on his hip, yelling in no particular direction, “So? He asked me to help with a rock lesson.”
“It’s geology —” she began to correct, but switched gears, “He meant for you to let him borrow from your collection, not take the entire class into a well! A well! Honestly, what are you even doing jumping into one of these to begin with?!”
Link sent the kids a derisive glance, whispering, “She thinks I don’t know about her secret well.”
“ There has to be poisonous plants down there. Or other curious— er— terrible creatures! Monsters, surely!”
“Don’t buy it. She’s jealous she wasn’t invited,” he said to the children again, and raised his voice, “There hasn’t been one chu chu down here in months. Besides, I just found something cool.”
“…Something cool?”
“Yeah, one of those new rocks you like. The weird colored—“
His sentence was interrupted by the sound of scattering rock and loud splashes . Link’s parade of children followed him around the corner to where a shaft of daylight lit up a shallow pool of water. The rippling surface glimmered: reflecting patterns over Zelda’s pained grimace and dripping wet frame as she scrambled to find her feet. Clearly, she’d elected to ignore the rope ladder, and dove headfirst into the dark.
She sloshed toward Link before he could make any smart remarks, saying, “Let me see!” with an open palm and grabbing fingers.
Link held it high out of reach. The princess definitely would have leapt for it like a frog if not for the impressionable stares on them. She couldn’t resist standing on her toes impatiently, though.
“Tell Symin we went for a hike?” he bargained. Her face scrunched. Zelda looked at the stone. Then him. Then—
“Why does it glow, Miss Zelda?” A hand poked her belt, and she looked down to see the children had begun to crowd them.
“Why is it green?” another asked.
Why does it look like glass? Is there more? Why’s it down here? Can they keep it? For each twelve year old, there were three questions, and with every one, Zelda’s face lit up: the frustration draining from her features.
Link knowingly handed her the rock and, without missing a beat, she cleared her throat to speak with a much more sophisticated tone. “Well, to answer Karin’s question first, some crystals have the ability to absorb energy, and that energy is slowly released over time. Because of this, the glow does eventually fade. However, this particular stone can regain its shine. Whatever it is that causes it — well, we aren’t sure. But we have identified a few select scenarios in which we have been successful. All that we need now is to be able to find what connects them, you see? ”
Link grinned like a baboon and sat down as the lecture turned towards the rock’s potential connection to Sheikah technology — how it seemed to have similar properties and behaviors to that of the ancient cores or whatever those things are made out of. Zelda let the children hold the stone toward the end of their questions. They gathered around as if it were a campfire — their faces a mix of pained, yet intrigued squints. One almost tried to bite it, but it was quickly snatched away by the other students with disgusted ‘ew’s and ‘ugh, Azu!’s.
“Does it have a name, Miss Zelda?” Karin asked as she handed back the crystal.
Zelda turned it over in her palms, almost as if debating to herself. “Well, not officially… but we have found what we believe to be references to it in tablets excavated from Faron Woods.”
She held the fragment higher, letting it cast away the dark of that space like a piece of waning starlight.
“It might be—”
Zonaite.
Zelda slid the well’s cover into place as soon as Link waved good-bye to all the children. It was near dinner-time by that point — all of them scurrying away with promises not to tell their parents of their latest misadventure, as usual. Stella took off the fastest, a cloud of dust at her heels. Hateno tomatoes were on the menu at her household, and that girl swore she wouldn’t be late even by a second.
He and Zelda stood side by side, overlooking the lines of swaying canopies — the undulating fields of gold draped along the hills. A goat paused to bleat at them before trailing after the children’s voices.
As soon as it vanished into the streets below, Zelda crossed her arms with a sigh. “You’re not allowed to kidnap children.”
“That’s a strong word.”
She swatted the space between them. “Symin told me it’s the third time this week. Are you really so bored now that the Lookout has proper guardsmen?”
Link’s smirk curdled. Proper guardsmen was also a strong choice of words to describe the Lookout’s current team. They were about as good as your average group of squires back in the day, but they were still under training and had promise so really he couldn’t complain — especially now that they weren’t in need of expert exterminators like the imperial guard.
Things were peaceful. Bokoblins docile and chu chus just about extinct. Keese? What are those? Hadn’t seen one for nearly half a year at that point. Yes, with moblins practically a fairy tale, they were more than capable of taking over to give Link some well-deserved reprieve from his guard duties. Or more accurately, Purah’s relentless orders.
But that didn’t mean he was bored .
“You’re bored,” Zelda confirmed after taking one glance at his flat stare.
“No,” he said.
“You need a hobby,” she started down the hill, hopping over a line of cuccos crossing the bridge.
“…A hobby,” he repeated, dry. “I cook.”
“Doesn’t count.”
“I climb things. People do that for fun.”
“Also does not count.”
He thought hard. “…Sledding?”
“No.”
“Bugging you?”
She spun on her heel, gesturing pointedly, “ No. All of those things are easy for you. I’ll rephrase it. You need new hobbies… Something… challenging!”
Link rolled his eyes, earning a scowl from her. It was quickly wiped off her face as townsfolk passed them by. She greeted them with smiles and delicate waves, and he returned their brief glances with his usual wordless nods, but few could muster more than a stammering ‘ hello’. Neither himself nor Zelda batted an eye at it; even after hundreds of days there, the townsfolk still held their breath when passing — tripped over their words and struggled to look their immemorial princess in the eye. The elders especially. Their first visit here Zelda had to usher Uma from the earth that she’d bowed her head against. Link remembered the sweat dripping off her chin. Wide, uncertain eyes that surely had the memory of Hyrule’s old nobility behind them.
‘No matter,’ Zelda had said. ‘They will learn not to fear…. I have not come to bring back the old ways.’
She smiled, nodding with surety, but it wasn’t until months passed, the school was built, and Zelda stood before a line of children that Link saw the tension leave her body.
Because none bowed their heads. And none averted their wide, curious stares which held no memory of the old Hyrule.
“Painting?” Zelda suggested as he plucked an apple from a tree’s crown.
He shrugged. “I painted Impa one time. She had it thrown in the pond out back when Purah offered to frame it.”
Zelda walked backwards, looking at him with a mix of pity and suspicion. “…I take it art isn’t for you. What about… sewing?”
The look on his face was enough to make her retract that one. They climbed the hills higher, talking back and forth, and Zelda walking backwards the whole way without tripping once. This was a route they’d taken often — everyday for the past two years, actually, since Zelda became so attached to the schoolhouse and he had fewer and fewer responsibilities of his own. She had every divot in that winding road mapped out, and he had it memorized exactly how the evening sun would reflect off her golden hair at each turn of the path.
It was a house peeking just above the cliff sides that they stayed in. It was the same one his father had grown up in, right down to the brick and mortar, in fact, and Link could never get used to how surreal it felt just looking at the thing. He’d bought it on that gut feeling, thinking something about it felt more home than the usual lopsided houses he stayed in throughout Hyrule. But old castle records found by the Lookout confirmed it really was more home than anywhere else could possibly be.
And even more so now that the house was littered with pieces of both himself and Zelda.
“Crocheting?” Zelda said before they could reach the door.
“Is that supposed to be better than sewing?”
She grouched something unintelligible at that. Then, “I just think something out of the norm will help. You never know… you know?”
He blinked at her. “I think in this case I do.”
Her face went flat, and the device at her hip chimed. Purah’s newest invention: The Purah Pad . Slimmer, cuter, and higher functioning in every way — or so the woman claimed when she’d handed them the thing.
They glanced at the Pad, listening to the chime repeat itself.
“Who…? Oh… I’m still not sure how to use this feature—” Zelda lifted the Pad as Link peered over her shoulder. When she pressed its screen, the dulcet tones of the Lookout’s irate Director shouted loud enough to scare birds from their rooftop.
“ Where are you guys?!”
They flinched, grimacing at the feedback. Purah’s voice continued to distort against the volume of her own screaming. Robbie was there somewhere in the background, objecting. Was that an accordion, too?
“P-Purah?” Zelda tried. “What are you saying—?”
“ I didn’t eat all day waiting for this! But now my sister, that wrinkled imp, won’t put out any of Koko’s food until you get here—!”
There was a commotion. More shouting — Impa’s voice mixed in as Purah’s grew fainter. Robbie cleared his throat into the Pad’s receiver and plainly said:
“ Pardon , you are late to dinner. We are all hungry. Please hurry before Miss Director kills and roasts one of us.”
The connection died after that. Zelda and Link looked at each other’s dirty faces, glanced at the setting sun, and gasped loudly in unison.
They were, in fact, late to dinner.
It took a record three minutes for them to scrub the well-grime from their bodies and warp to Kakariko in new, not so smelly clothing.
They lingered at the top of the hill where Ta'loh Naeg Shrine once was. The warp pad glowed beneath their feet as they stared down at Impa’s house shrouded in the beginnings of twilight: its windows filled with the bustling shadows of somewhere around thirty angry guests who were very well waiting to lob their complaints at the crown princess and her other half for being two hours late to their own dinner party.
“They’re going to ask,” Link said.
“We tell them it was important,” she replied instantly.
He nodded. “Life or death.”
She splayed her fingers, painting a vivid image. “Hateno, under attack.”
“By what? The last ‘koblin on the continent?”
Zelda squinted. Pursed her lips. “No, definitely not. What about bears? Or… hogs. No— both?”
“Variety. That’s good,” Link agreed.
“Yes, exactly,” Zelda nodded, too.
The creak of a swinging lantern made them both jump like cats. They whirled around to see Paya with an utterly unimpressed stare and cinched brow.
“Y–Your Highness… Master Link…. How do you do?” she said as if she hadn’t just heard the last incriminating minute of their conversation.
“Paya! G–good evening!” Zelda stammered. “What are you doing all the way out here?”
She bowed her head with a sigh. A withered plant. “They were so loud… I got overwhelmed and hid in the woods.”
“Is it that bad?” Zelda joked, a little dread there.
One of the windows below slid open, letting loose a cucco from inside Impa’s house. It slid shut as soon as its tail feathers cleared the windowsill, cutting off the sound of what had to be Cado’s protests.
“Can you believe it?” Paya mumbled, sullen. “Grandmother hasn’t even served the alcohol, yet.”
Link grinned dumbly, “Looks fun.”
That earned him an elbow from Zelda. She clapped her hands, saying, “We shouldn’t dally! Come with us, will you, Paya? You can’t hide in the woods the entire night.”
“Y-Your Highness, I… I think I would prefer stay—”
“It’s haunted,” Zelda and Link lied at the same time, and the young woman squealed before sprinting back into town, her lantern creaking the whole way down.
“In three days, we will be rid of our shadow.”
Impa sat tall atop her cushions, and lifted a glass as high as she could reach.
Twenty-nine more glasses were raised in response to Impa’s toast. Link and Zelda watched them clink together in discordant celebration, their hands wrapped around their own empty glasses. Understandably, their punishment for tardiness was to be served Koko’s perfect cooking last. And for running away, Paya was sat right at the head of the table they’d set up for this occasion: her hunched form dead center at its end, brown eyes barely poking above the towering platters.
Zelda and Link sat next to one another to the Sheikah’s left. Robbie and many of the town’s occupants sat along the table’s fifteen-foot span or stood out on the balcony to converse as children weaved in and out, taking whatever they liked from the table. Link snuck a bite of food from one of the passing plates, curiously eyeing the cucco that mirrored Paya at the far end of the table.
He nudged Zelda, who also leaned forward to see. It crowed loudly as if it were offended by their staring, and they quickly looked away. Clearly, Cado had gotten permission to keep at least one of his cuccos on the guest list. That was fine, it wasn’t as if the chair’s intended party was using it — Purah sat by Impa’s tower of cushions, legs folded beneath her and her head lolled against a wooden pole with drool trailing from her mouth.
There was an empty glass in her hand and three crumb-filled plates scattered around — she’d eaten and drank herself into a coma five minutes after food was set. No one disturbed her; most were tired of her bragging about her new height.
‘Guess who's got the longest legs in Hyrule again?’ she’d cackled madly, sticking her foot in the air.
It might have been some grace of the Goddess that the woman was a sleepy kind of drunk.
“How has your Summer vacation treated you, Cousin?”
Link met Robbie’s goggled stare across the table. They blinked out of unison. “Zelda says I need a hobby.”
“Everyone needs hobbies,” Robbie waved a chopstick at him, and used it to poke Cottla’s hand when she tried to steal a dumpling from his plate. She whined and trotted off to find a more vulnerable target.
“I can’t think of any,” Link admitted, ignoring Zelda miming sewing with her hands.
“Other than kidnapping Symin’s students?” the old man questioned. They balked, but Robbie only hummed, unbothered. “Yes, he told us everything an hour before you arrived. He also told us you’ve been collecting an unusual number of frogs from the town’s pond. I’ve been wondering about that one.”
Several heads turned to Link as if they expected one of said frogs to leap out of his shirt collar. Zelda’s stare was the most intense. He leaned away. “I’m doing someone a favor.”
“That sounds suspiciously similar to what you said about the crickets. This isn’t a repeat of that, is it?” she interrogated. “You remember they were let loose in the inn? Manny tried to release them like doves. I’d never seen such an infestation...” She leaned closer with a glint in her eye. “It’s a terrible idea. In fact, why don’t you just give them to me and Symin?”
“We could use them for our lessons,” Symin adjusted his glasses, a sinister light catching them.
“I’d prefer to let them go,” Link deadpanned, and the two quickly started to complain.
“Is it really the last of them?”
Lasli spoke up for the first time, sounding utterly disbelieving. Zelda and Symin stopped talking alongside the other nearby guests; her words were quiet, but sobering nonetheless.
“... Yes ,” Dorian answered first from Impa’s right, his focus somewhere beyond the open doors.
Impa elaborated after sipping her drink, a sigh of relief escaping her. “Our knowledge, combined with Master Link’s and the Gerudo’s, has proven to be accurate. Any that are left, we suspect to become little more than roadside bandits by the end of the year. They have no leaders left. No heirs to the clan’s secret techniques... This final trial will make sure of that.”
A few more glasses raised. Link accepted a platter of prime steak that was finally passed to him. His eyes remained on Zelda, though, watching the way she conversed with people. She wore a light grin, her words measured and calm, and yet her hands were fidgeting beneath the table.
Nervous. It was expected. In three days, they would host the last of the Yiga’s trials at what was once the colosseum’s crumbling pit; it was the sum of years of interrogations, man hunts, and waiting— a hundred sleepless nights spent watching the dark, wondering if they could spot the last of them somewhere out there.
After four years, they did.
Yghō .
Kogha’s right hand man and chosen successor was found by the Vure hiding in the great pit of the arbiter’s grounds. They staked him and his band out for weeks until he alone came to meet them in surrender: trudging through the heat’s haze with his arms high and a sheet of white balled in his fist. Link himself had stood on top of the gates, watching as the man was dragged over the glittering dunes and delivered to Riju’s feet.
Link stayed in the shadow of the throne as he’d been wrapped in chains and Riju said her piece. His eyes met Yghō’s at the end. Brown until the light caught them and they shone a red hue.
He’d thought of Lottie, then, and hoped it would be justice enough.
Yes, it was the last head to sever on a long, winding snake.
It’d mark one of the Gerudos’ greatest achievements, and maybe, finally pave the way for Zelda to take up the throne sitting empty at Hyrule’s center.
‘Perhaps then, the Zora will see that things will be different,’ she’d told him after adding another of their refusals to the growing pile.
They were the last support she needed. She wouldn’t take the throne, not until the entirety of Hyrule was in agreement— much to Impa and half of Hyrule’s unspoken chagrin.
When a water pitcher finally reached him, Link drank straight out of it.
Impa cleared her throat, the chatter in the room dying down.
“Please, grant me a moment. There is something I wish to tell all of you.”
Her palms folded together, and after taking a long breath, she began to speak of her pride for the people before her. The happiness and the relief she felt being a witness to the end of their people’s greatest struggles. The Calamity was gone. The Yiga, soon to be a relic of the past.
“It is all I could have wished for, and more.”
She hopped from her seat, and walked the length of the table until she came to a halt near Paya, her hands behind her back and a pleasant smile on her face. The young woman struggled to finish a mouthful of noodles. She covered her mouth, swallowing as Impa put a hand on her shoulder, and patted it twice.
“This indeed marks a new age for our people. Thus… I feel it is only natural that I pass on my title to the next generation.”
Paya stopped chewing. Eyes like the wide-set stare of a rodent in shock.
Impa took off her hat, continuing, “I admit, I have aged too greatly to pass on the martial arts of a Priestess, and with your mother gone… Well, nonetheless, my sister was once meant to take my place. As such, she was taught the same as I. I am sure that with her newfound youth, she will be a more than capable mentor for you, my dear.”
Purah giggled, and rolled over in her sleep. Paya stared at her, then the hat that was being held out to her. Impa grinned, her eyes creasing with pride.
“You will take my place at the final trial… You’ve grown , Paya. I have the utmost faith in you to lead our people into the new age. Wouldn’t you agree, Your Highness?”
All eyes swept toward Zelda. She put on a blinding smile, though her voice was somewhat unsteady. “Yes, I agree. You’ll do wonderful, Paya!”
The color drained from Paya’s face, the cuckoo crowed, and she retched into her bowl of noodles not a second after.
Hyrule Castle couldn’t be seen in the darkness.
Link remembered a century prior: the way it shone in the distant dark when he’d first visited his mother’s grave. It was a cluster of starlight, the horizon it cut in half glowing like flame.
Now, it was the Lookout he could see from his place at the graveyard’s edge with its two towers, one a pulsing blue. It was a speck that the region’s borders nearly outshone. The edges of Central Hyrule were lit all around: signs of life encroaching, slowly reclaiming the country’s center. It was only a matter of time before the Capital was rebuilt, and the world back to its original state.
It was surreal. Ever since he’d woken up, he’d watched Hyrule’s dark corners gradually relight themselves. The wild didn’t feel so lonely anymore. So vast.
…What was it like for Zelda, to watch the lights all go out?
An updraft rose from the cliffside, bringing the scent of moss and summertime peaches with it. Zelda leaned on the fence next to Link, her face tilting toward the cloudless sky.
“Did you know?” he asked her.
“What? Paya?” Her eyes opened. Her face was lit by the zonaite in her hand. A perfect green — it might have matched her eyes better than the luminous stone, he thought. “I didn’t, believe it or not… Impa mentioned the idea to me a year ago, but it seemed to be more a passing thought than anything else.”
He smiled. “It’s never a passing thought with her.”
Zelda laughed faintly. “She makes her machinations seem effortless.”
“You think she told Purah?”
“Absolutely not. She’ll be in shock when she wakes up.”
They shared a laugh, their heads tipping together for a moment. “They’ll be alright, I’m sure,” Zelda insisted. “She’s braver than she realizes.”
Link nodded in agreement. Wind whistled through the valleys, drawing their attention beyond the cliff again. Zelda’s smile remained, but her eyes focused on the Lookout’s faint light. Or, maybe, the empty dark where her home sat.
“Why wait?” Link mumbled.
Zelda sighed through her nose; she knew his meaning. Always did. “Does it seem so strange to you…?”
“King Dorephan already supports you.”
“Yes… though he plans to do the same as Impa, soon. He does not wish to go against the wants of his council and leave his son an angry court. I want to respect that, and win his people’s support.”
“Sidon won’t care. Him and Yona— they’ll announce their support day one.”
Zelda rested her chin on her hand, the stone turning over between her fingers. “He’s still young for a Zora… brash.”
“I don’t think that will change with age.”
She tossed a smile his way, but her brow knit with worry. “Oh, certainly not… Which is why I hope this trial will be enough.” Her grip on the stone tightened, her voice quieting, “Maybe… they’ll see… I’m not…”
Link wrapped his arm around her shoulder, and drew her head toward his. “You see the lights out there?” She nodded, and he said:
“You did that.”
“Everyone—”
“Who came up with the Lookout?”
“...”
Her head bowed, but he shook her gently, “Who spent a year testing the Stables’ pony points to get more people to travel? Tripled the size of Bolson’s crew and got all those wells dug so those towns out there could be rebuilt? Don’t get me started on the bridges. Do you know how many rivers I had to cross with the Slate? Who planned all that?”
“...Me.” Meek, but a hint of pride there.
“Yeah, you . They’ll see it. Same as us, right now.”
A smile wormed its way onto her face. She eased closer to him, letting out a breath, “Thank you…” She held the Zonaite closer, gazing into its vivid color.
There might have been some warmth to it.
They remained in silence, the moon drawing higher, farther, until Zelda murmured, “It couldn’t have been done without you, too.”
Who got rid of all the monsters?
“Somebody.”
She pinched him, and he laughed, his voice strangely hoarse. Thin. “Me, I know. And her—” he flicked the Sword past his shoulder, its gem winking in the faint light.
“Yes, indeed,” Zelda whispered fondly.
She went ahead to say their goodbyes to Impa soon after — maybe wish Paya or Purah luck if either of them were awake yet. Link remained to brush the dirt from his mother’s grave and straighten the purple blooms that laid there. He left when he was finished, only to see Zelda was still there twenty feet down the path, her face lifted to the sky once again.
When she noticed him staring, she pointed high past the rustling paper and looming cliffs, “Did you see that?” He looked. It was a plain, star-spattered sky. When he turned back, she was shaking her head. “I thought I saw something… moving . Up there. A falling star, maybe?”
“Are you dreaming?” he teased.
She smiled, her hands folding behind her back.
“No. I don’t do that much anymore, thankfully.”
There was a boy walking along the dirt road. A stick half his height was in his hand, the tip leaving divots in the dirt. Treetops swayed above. Men in armor were passing by: obscuring the frame of the boy in flashes of metal and leather and flowing banners so tall they blotted the light above like rippling clouds.
The boy stopped, his eyes blue and clear as he watched them go until they vanished into a deep forest. He stood, their footprints all around, merely looking into the tree line in which they’d gone. The stick slipped from his hand.
Someone called him from the woods. A voice that was harsh as a whip.
What are you waiting for, Boy? Come on, already!
The boy shook his stupor away, scolding himself.
What was he doing?
He picked up his fallen stick, and sprinted after as fast as his small legs could carry him.
Link woke to a pair of hands pressed against his chest, shaking him gently awake. He saw Zelda leaning over him: her eyes wide, and her face pale even in the stark morning light. The sheets of their bed slipped off her shoulder and onto the floor below.
He swallowed. “...What?”
Her breath shuddered, her long hair blowing from her face, and she said:
“I had a dream.”
The earth shook, the house rattling like parchment drums.
The sky had begun to fall.