Link stood guard outside the Council chamber, a few paces opposite another guardsman at the other side of the hall. It was mind-numbing work. At least with watch detail it was outside. Here, his only view was an open hall that led out to the castle antechamber.

To be sure, it was a positively regal view. A great chandelier hung midway down the hall. Along one side of the high walls were stained glass murals depicting the Holy Mother and the Golden Three; Hylia, Nayru, Din, and Farore. Motes of dust flitted about in rays of light, seemingly cast from above by the goddesses themselves.

Only, the view got a little stale after the first three hours. (As did his unprofessional compatriot’s attempts to engage him in conversation, but that aside…)

His thoughts kept returning to the expedition. It irked him that he wasn’t chosen to go. Logically, it made sense; only a dozen were needed. Why would they choose a fresh recruit over any of the more senior guardsmen? Still, it chafed at the back of his mind. His uncle had made it seem like he would be routinely going out on adventures. Link couldn’t help but feel a little betrayed.

Time continued to crawl along.

Link amused himself by imagining shapes in the sun beams. If he focused just so, he could almost see the outline of a young girl dancing on the wind.

A rising cacophony of voices indicated the council meeting was at a close. Beside him, a door creaked open and Guard Captain Izu stepped through. Link snapped to arms. The guard opposite him did not. Captain Izu saluted, and Link returned to rest.

“New guy. How goes it?” Captain Izu asked, coming to stand next to him while fastening his helmet. His tone was a bit more familiar than Link was used to.

“Sir,” Link said. “Well enough.”

“Heh,” Captain Izu shook his head. “We don’t really do the formalities thing here. Except for show, of course. Standard fare around nobles and royals. You’ll get used to it.”

“Ah. Okay,” Link said awkwardly. He wasn’t sure what to make of that. The man opposite him sighed audibly and muttered something about "green boys." Izu shot him a look. Link narrowed his eyes, but said nothing.

“Arlinkar, isn’t it?”

“I prefer ‘Link,’ sir.”

“Alright. Linkser it is.”

“Er… ’Link..’ Just ‘Link,’” he hurried to amend. The guard across the hall stifled a laugh. Ugh.

“Okay then, Link,” Izu said, grinning. “I heard you beat Impa in a duel?”

He had been asked about that several times now. Apparently it was a bigger deal than he thought. He still didn’t know what happened exactly, but that was battle for you. Sometimes instincts took hold, and it was over before you knew it.

“I just got lucky, s… uh. I got lucky, is all.”

Izu only smiled. Link shifted, feeling uneasy.

“In case you haven’t heard, there’s a tourney coming up on Remembrance Day,” Izu said, clapping Link on the shoulder. “You should sign up. It’ll be good to have actual competition for once.”

A tournament? Link didn’t like to show off. It went against the teachings of the Faith. Even if few held strictly to the teachings these days, he certainly did. Although, there were exceptions for festivities and entertainment. And it would be far more interesting than anything else in his life right now…

Izu coughed.

“I’ll… think about it. Thank you,” Link said.

Izu and the other guard snapped to arms as the doors opened. Link followed suit. Izu took point beside a third guard exiting the chamber, and together the two of them escorted the Council members down the hall.

Link and his compatriot waited until the chamber emptied before unfastening their helmets and falling out. They were off-duty now. The man nodded curtly to him and headed down the hall. Link wasn’t sure where else to go except the guardsman’s quarters. Maybe the library? He still intended to look into the King’s—

“Link!” he heard Uncle Raolin call from behind. “Over here.”

Surprised, Link turned to see his uncle waving at him. It looked like he had been speaking with an older nobleman who was just now departing through the smaller side entrance.

Link felt a pang of anger and frustration well up inside, but pushed it down. He’d deal with that later. Despite how he felt, he knew his uncle only intended the best. Besides, here was not the time or place for such things. He waved back to his uncle and ventured inside, managing a smile.

Raolin crossed his arms, beaming. “Hey now. What’s this I hear about you besting Impa in a duel? Why didn’t you tell me over dinner?”

Link suppressed a groan. “It’s not … I didn’t think it was a big deal. I just got lucky. That’s all.”

“Ah, I see,” his uncle frowned, one hand stroking his beard. “Well,” he said, brightening up. “There’s a tourney coming up on—”

“Remembrance Day, yeah,” Link interrupted. “Izu told me. I’ll think about it.” He took a deep breath, looking back out of the chamber and down the hall. Link heard the clack of Raolin’s cane as he strode closer. He was doing a poor job of hiding his feelings, as usual.

“Hey,” Raolin said, leaning forward on his cane. “I’m sorry you didn’t get chosen for the expedition. From what I hear, there’s usually plenty of room for any guardsmen who volunteer. This one’s a bit different, it seems. Can’t say more, but I promise it won’t always be like this.”

That… okay, that was fair. Link let out a sigh and felt some of the tension leave him.

Raolin chuckled, patting him on the side. “What do you say we catch up with the others? Grab some food and check out the entertainment?”

“Entertainment?” Link asked. What was that about?

“Ahh!” Raolin’s face lit up and he twirled his cane. “Seff, the Court Minstrel. He’s back in town. Old friend of mine. Used to be part of the same troupe back in my barding days.” He winked. “You’re in for a real treat.”


The castle theater was smaller than Link would have guessed, though somehow it still managed to fit the sixty-odd guests comfortably. A few rows of benches lined the front of the hall, with a balcony towards the front reserved for royalty and their personal guests. It was presently empty.

Uncle Raolin had managed to snag a seat on one of the benches up front. Link stood just off to the side nearby. A few of the other guests also sat up front, but most stood in a loose crowd just behind and to the sides.

The murmurings of the audience died down as stagehands closed the shutters on the windows. Darkness filled the hall.

Silence.

A dozen candles puffed to life. The light of their flickering flames, reflected by silvered glass, revealed a single man sitting on a wooden stool next to a golden harp. Seff?

He was dressed immaculately, wearing a black tunic fashioned from Gerudo silk over a fine, feathered shirt. His right hand played back and forth over the instrument, producing clean notes following the scale. The audience held rapt with palpable anticipation.

He plucked out a few notes, and the song began. His solemn voice washed over the hall.


The melody sped up. Seff mixed in notes in an ascending scale. A faint chorus of voices sang out from the darkness.


The harp went silent, and a string instrument played solo with the chorus in accompaniment. Seff stood and leaned out over the stage, whipping his hands through the smoke of the candles. The flames rose. Intensified. Link could feel the energy building in the air. He could almost see the song come to life. Horns and a drum sounded with the next verse.


Flames roared to life across the stage, revealing dancers and streaming ribbons. The chorus cried out and several other instruments joined in.


The music reached a crescendo and faded abruptly, as did the flames. A couple instruments remained with the chorus singing the names of the goddesses in harmony.

The shutters on the windows opened as the performance ended, revealing another eight performers on stage. Seff and his troupe took a bow, and the audience erupted with cheers and applause. Link joined in. Truthfully, he was impressed. He had never seen anything quite like it.

Seff motioned for the audience to settle as the curtains behind him drew to a close. The other performers disappeared from view and the shutters dimmed once more. He cleared his throat in dramatic fashion.

“The history of Hyrule has always been one of hardship and adversity.” Seff paused, letting the words settle over the audience. “In these times, we are blessed by the Holy Mother with relative comfort and prosperity. But it was not always so!”

Behind him the curtain drew back to show animated wooden props painted with meticulous detail. On one side of the stage rose a great tower; on the other stretched the sea. Seff himself stepped to the side and continued to narrate the story.

“Long ago, the twin kingdoms of Farwatch and Byrna coexisted in peace. But everything changed when the Blin attacked!”

Drums sounded as a crude ship sailed in from the east, crashing against the tower. “Blin” (actors covered in skins and wearing horns) leapt from the ship and attacked the tower.

“Hordes numbering in the hundreds of thousands invaded the eastern coastlands. Their might and sheer numbers quickly overwhelmed the guard at Farwatch, making short work of the ancient city. Countless were killed, priceless artifacts were lost, and ancient tomes of knowledge were burned as the city was razed! Those that could, fled to Byrna…”

Link watched as the tower fell to pieces and was covered in painted flames. The ruins and sea shifted to the right of the stage to reveal a bokoblin savagely hacking at a screaming woman. A soldier was run through by a hulking moblin with a spear, and two others fled across the stage. He heard gasps and muttered curses as the audience reacted to the raw imagery.

The curtain drew closed and Seff took center stage. He paced around, pausing here and there to punctuate the story.

“The people were horrified, stunned, and appalled by the slaughter at Farwatch. Despite their desperate prayers and offerings, the goddesses were nowhere to be found! Many felt betrayed. Why had they allowed this to happen? Had the people been forsaken?

“As the hordes turned toward Byrna, tensions rose. Should they sally out and fight? Try to hold out against the coming siege? Flee? Amidst a growing panic, the Council of Byrna and the Twelve Sages convened, together with the King of Farwatch and his advisers.

“Together, they spent three days locked away in silence. And when at last they emerged, it was revealed that the Holy Mother herself had given them direction!”

Seff stepped aside. The curtains opened again to show an actress dressed in white robes with long, golden hair. A ray of light shone down on her from above and the people around her bowed in reverence. She stepped forward and addressed the crowd. The light followed her movement.

“My children! You must flee and seek refuge west, beyond the mountains! There I will carve out a fertile valley for you, safe from these wretched voidspawn!”

The King of Farwatch rushed forth and fell to his knees, pleading. “Your Grace! What are we to do of the approaching hordes? We cannot travel safely over the plains while they roam free. Please, you must aid us!”

The Hylia-actress crossed her arms and held her chin in thought. She strode to the front of the stage and paced. “Perhaps… yes! Perhaps there is one among you who will be my champion? A courageous, noble knight? Selfless and brave, willing to stand against the darkness and protect my people?”

The audience began to murmur. Seff stepped forward, though the actors paid him no mind. “Well?!” he demanded, arms outstretched. “Hylia needs a champion! Are there none among you with valor, willing to stand against the hordes?”

Link felt a shove from behind and he stumbled forward. Before he could recover, the light from the rafters turned on him. His breath caught and he froze, suddenly wishing to disappear. He held a hand up to shield his eyes. The hall went still.

Was this really happening?

Dear Hylia. Holy Mother. Goddess Above, Link prayed. Please—

“Brave knight!” the Hylia-actress called. “Your courage is second to none. Come forward, and accept my blessing!”

All around him, the crowd cheered. An auspicious and triumphant fanfare sounded out with horns blaring. Streaming tinsel fell from above. The light from the rafters dimmed, and he saw that Seff was waving him over and offering a helping hand onto the stage.

It was all too much. It was just too much.

Something inside him broke. He didn't know what he had done to deserve this. But the goddesses wanted to have their fun with him? Fine. He would oblige.

Link stood tall, looked back over his shoulder at the crowd, and winked. With a running start, he dove for the stage, rolled, and sprang to his feet. The audience shouted their acclamation with wild applause. Link whirled about and did his best to adopt a heroic pose.

Seff joined in from across the stage, though with more reservation. “Looks like we have our champion, folks!”

All eyes turned to Link, and the realization struck: he had no idea what to do next. He stood stiffly, looking between the actors and the crowd. The applause died and an awkward silence settled over the hall.

Uh…

Seff spoke up with a stage whisper. “Mr. Hero, I think you’re supposed to accept the blessing of Hylia.” A bout of laughter rose from the crowd.

Right.

Link approached and dropped to one knee before the Hylia-actress. The light shone from above on the two of them. Somewhere, a harp played out a simple melody.

“O, Courageous Hero!” she half-yelled, gesturing over the stage. Link winced. He hadn’t realized how loudly they had to speak for their voices to carry across the hall. “Arise, and accept my blessing. Go, and bring peace to Hyrule!”

The room dimmed and the light focused now on Link alone, intensifying as the horns and harp sounded out another fanfare. The Hylia-actress and the King scrambled away in the darkness.

Seff strode back to center stage, motioning for for Link to stand. He did so. The light from above faded, and the room lit up.

“And so, the Champion of Hylia sallied forth with the stalwart defenders of the realm. Together they would take the battle to the evil Blin, and buy time for the people to flee to Hylia’s land of promise and prosperity!”

At the back of the stage, three actors dressed as knights entered from the left carrying banners and spears. The crowd shouted and stamped their feet with encouragement from Seff. A moment later, four actors dressed as bokoblin entered from the right to boos and jeers.

Link didn’t hesitate this time, opting to jog over to the waiting soldiers.

“Wait! Mr. Hero!” Seff called. Startled, Link turned back to see Seff waving a wooden sword.

“It”s dangerous to go alone. Here, take this!” He tossed the sword Link’s way, but it fell short by several feet with a loud clack against the floor. It was likely intentional, judging by the audience’s reaction. With a sigh, Link made to pick it up.

Without warning, the knights behind him charged the Blin. Link scrambled after them, but too late. One caught a spear in the chest and fell, screaming dramatically. Another swung and took down his comrade’s attacker, but was himself felled by two more. The last soldier turned to run, leaving Link to face the three remaining enemies alone. One made to stab at him with an exaggerated thrust. Link effortlessly batted the attack away, yanked on the spear, and smacked the actor on the back as he fell to the ground with a yelp.

The other two Blin actors were well out of range and backing away. Link stood his ground, unsure if he was actually supposed to fight. The fallen actors crawled off-stage.

“The knights fought valiantly and drew the attention of the advancing armies, but the brutish hordes prevailed by sheer numbers alone! Desperate, the Champion made a last stand at the Temple of Hylia, buying time for his allies to retreat!”

Drums thumped, slow and steady. The two bokoblin actors on the right side of the stage were joined by another three bokoblin and a moblin. From the left side, a two-tiered wooden platform with a fanciful temple backdrop was wheeled in. Taking cue from Seff, Link hopped up to the second tier, but not before grabbing a spear left by one of the fallen soldiers.

The actors advanced one at a time, swinging wildly and nowhere near Link. He stabbed at the first with his spear. The man grabbed the spear under his arm, cried out, and fell on his back. A second charged and roared, stopping just outside of striking distance. Link stepped in and made a slashing motion. He fell away clutching at his neck.

The remaining four actors spread across the lower rung of the platform. The three bokoblin rushed him at once. Link — backed against a wall — felt a surge of panic at their advance, and had to remind himself that this was not a real fight. He slashed at one, who fell away screaming. The other two grabbed him and the moblin advanced with a spear. Link struggled and jerked free. He bopped one on the head, and drew the wooden sword across the other’s chest. They fell away. He readied himself for another attack, but the moblin halted his advance, backed away, and fled.

“The Champion was successful in his bid for time, though many were lost that day,” Seff called out, his tone somber. “The hordes fell back and victory was won, but at a high cost…”

“For the Champion of Hylia himself succumbed to his wounds following the battle.”

Link looked about uncertainly. Apparently, he should have been wounded. Unsure what else to do, he clutched at his chest and took a knee, propping himself up with the sword.

The curtains fell and the fallen actors rose to line up across the stage. The rest of the troupe hurried to join in.

“Hey kid. Good job,” one of the bokoblin actors said causing him to miss Seff’s next line. “Easy with the sword though — that thing hurts.” He rubbed at his head.

Link winced. “Ah. Sorry.”

“C’mon,” he said, pulling Link towards the center of the growing line.

The curtains rose to thunderous applause. The troupe bowed together, and Link with them. Seff called out each of the cast by name, and they each posed and took a bow in turn.

“And lastly, let’s hear it for the Champion of Hylia!”

Link played at sheathing his wooden sword with a flourish. He couldn’t help but smile. What had he been worried about? That wasn’t so bad after all.


Seff exchanged pleasantries with Link, though the man seemed to be distracted and in quite a hurry. The troupe had broken up and went their separate ways while a couple of stagehands remained to tidy up.

Link looked over the thinning crowd. He caught his uncle’s eye and saw him speaking with the same nobleman from earlier. He waved and made to head over. Raolin shook his head and held up a hand. Link stopped. His uncle gave him a smile and a thumbs-up, but looked to be engaged in an important conversation. He touched one hand at the other man’s back and gestured with the other. The two of them wandered off.

Well.

The hall was nearly empty now. Back to the guard’s chambers? Or the library.

But, no. Something felt… wrong.

With a growing panic, Link felt at his chest. The necklace! How had he lost it? Was it—

He dashed backstage and slid under the curtains, searching for the temple prop. It was hard to make out in the dim light, though he found it off to the side and scoured over every inch of it in the hope the necklace had snagged on something during the scuffle.

No such luck.

He darted around hoping to find a stagehand — or anyone else for that matter — but saw no one. Just as he was about to head back to the hall, he heard a door slam shut.

He took off in the direction of the sound. Near the back of the staging area were two service entrances on either side. He opened the door on the left and dashed through. Just ahead was a dusty storage area, and to the right a stone wall. To his left—

Midway down the hall was a spiral staircase. And snagged on the railing? His necklace.

Link said a silent prayer to the goddesses in thanks. He held the thing by the chain, the golden fragment resting in his palm. How had… had one of the actors tried to steal it? With sigh of relief, he fastened it back around his neck. He needed to be more careful. This was a priceless family heirloom. What would his uncle think if—

Turning, he bumped into none other than Seff.

“Hello, Mr. Hero,” Seff said.

Link backed away, regarding the man with suspicion.

“Well?” Seff asked. “Oh, come now. I thought we were friends.”

“Did.. did you—”

“Yes, I stole your necklace. Well. To be more precise, I had one of the actors do it,” he shrugged, smiling. “Same thing, really. But don’t worry. It seems I couldn’t take it from you if I wanted to. It would find its way back to you one way or another.”

Link gaped. He couldn’t believe the audacity of this man.

Seff regarded him with a curious expression, then scoffed. “Truly? Do you not have any idea what it is?”

“That… is none of your concern,” Link said flatly, turning to leave. “I’ll be going now.”

“Oh, but it is my concern. In fact, I believe it may be everyone’s concern, soon enough.”

Link felt his temper rising. What in damnation was this thieving lunatic going on about? Whatever it was, it didn’t matter. He continued on his way.

“You feel it when you hold it, don’t you?” Seff called to him. “When you look at it. It resonates with you, doesn’t it?”

Link stopped in his tracks, hand going to his chest.

He heard Seff make a tisking sound and turned back. The man sauntered up to him, an impish grin playing about his face. “My, my. Farore always did have a sense of humor. It seems you may well be the goddesses’ champion after all.”

Link shook his head in disbelief. This Seff had to be mad. It was the only explanation. He turned again to leave.

“Gather your courage, Mr. Hero,” Seff said, catching Link’s eye as he reached the door at the end of the hall. “You will need it in the times to come.”


Impa rode through the gate of the small walled village and up to the stable. She dismounted from her horse, passing two green rupees to the stableboy as she handed him the reigns. The boy thanked her, pocketting one of the rupees and leading the horse away.

She had made a fair divergence from Zelda’s entourage to get here, taking a circuitous route with several stops and changes of transportation to ensure she was not tracked. The group would be camping at the shores of Lake Hylia soon, and would be boarding ships to sail downriver in the morning. She would easily make up the time with a swift horse and a few hours’ ride during the twilight hours. It wasn’t the safest method of travel, but it also wasn’t anything Impa couldn’t handle.

Presently, however, she had urgent business to attend to. Vian herself had securely requested a meeting at a long-abandoned Sheikah outpost and training ground. It could only mean one thing. Despite herself, Impa found she wanted desperately to cling to the hope it was anything but.

As she plodded along the dirt road to the Tower, she was reminded of the early days of her training so many years ago. Unpleasant memories to be sure, though somehow still comforting. She had been broken here — and then some — but was ultimately reforged into a tool, purpose-made to serve her kingdom. She was nothing and would have been nothing without the Sheikah. That poor orphan girl struggling to survive in the underworld of Castletown had no future.

She passed the old barracks — now an inn — and found herself at the base of the Tower. A man in loose clothing stood there, propped up against the door as he whittled away at what looked like a pipe.

“She’s expecting you,” he said, making way.

Impa nodded to him and entered the building.


Two knocks on the great oak door leading to Vesyrn’s old office. Vesyrn: her immediate superior, one of Vian’s two lieutenants, and the closest thing Impa ever had to a father.

“Enter,” the response came. Impa did so, closing the door behind her with a thud. A thin plume of dust billowed across the floor.

“Impa, dear. Have a seat,” Vian said to her, somber and mirthless. She sat alone, staring out the window.

Impa bowed reverently, taking a seat opposite the venerable woman. It had been a few years since she had last seen her in person. Age lines marred her face more heavily than Impa remembered, and her hair had gone completely white. She wore simple clothing; a shawl bearing the silver eye of the Sheikah and a wide-brimmed hat with dangling tassels.

“You wished to see me?” Impa asked. Tension hung in the air. She could tell Vian was not looking forward to this conversation any more than she was. Impa adjusted her posture, unable to rest comfortably on the hard wooden chair.

Vian turned to Impa, her eyes heavy. “I am so sorry to ask this of you, child. But I can trust no other.”

The last flickers of hope hiding at the back of her mind were extinguished. Slowly, she nodded. There was only one reason Vian would break the chain of command like this, meeting here of all places.

“It was him, then? You’re certain?” she asked.

“As certain as we ever are of these things,” Vian said. She grimaced, looking to the heavens.

Impa could feel the old woman’s pain. A cocktail of emotions swirled inside her as well, but she choked them down. Now was not the time. It was not. She would have to deal with it later.

“How?”

“He was seen consorting with a Gerudo agent,” Vian said. “We caught her and learned she was part of a renegade faction camping out in the highlands that we've had an eye on for some time. Little more, unfortunately.”

“And?"

“Among her possessions, we found a magically empowered strain of aracha venom,” Vian continued, waving a hand. “I… witnessed its effects myself. There is no mistaking it.”

Impa clenched her jaw and buried her face in her palms, fingers digging at her scalp. She didn't know which upset her more: that he had done it, or that he had been caught. “Why?” she half-whispered. She didn't trust herself to speak, but the words came anyway. "How could he be… so foolish…"

“Why does anyone commit treason and attempt regicide?” Vian mused. “I am sure he has a compelling story, and is suitably convicted.”

“But it doesn’t make sense!” Impa cut back. “If he wanted the King dead, why use poison? Why not any number of other approaches? And what does this rogue faction of Gerudo have to do with any of it?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, dear,” Vian answered in a hushed tone.

The two sat in silence. Impa tried to gather her thoughts. She felt sick.

“Why me? Allanna knows, doesn't she?”

“No,” Vian said pointedly. What?

“You are the first, outside of my personal cell.” She looked worried, rubbing her hands together restlessly. “I couldn’t risk it — she would confront him. They would be at each others’ throats, and who knows what the fallout would mean for the kingdom. But, no. He trusts you. If we play it right, we may still avert the coming disaster.”

Impa froze, her thoughts catching up to her. “But then, how did you know I’m not—”

“—Oh, don’t think I don’t know about your experiments,” Vian said, a note of derision seeping into her voice. “Nothing happens in Castletown without my knowledge. Not exactly the most productive of endeavors if you were working with him, hmm?” She frowned. “And besides, I know how close you are with Zelda. I had the thought it was merely a ruse and that you might be sabotaging her efforts, but you would never betray her, now would you?”

Impa tried to speak, but her mind had ceased to function. She only gaped wordlessly at Vian.

“What?“ Vian said with a sardonic laugh. “You are hardly the first Sheikah with fiendish hobbies. And if we interfered every time a royal ordered something clandestine and illegal, there would be a civil war every other generation.”

Impa fell back into her chair. The weight of it all was too much, even for her. Where to start?

Practicalities. Focus on the matter at hand. There is one path forward. The next steps are the same, regardless of all else. Keep moving. Figure the rest out later.

“Last seen?”

Vian smiled. It was unnerving. “He was tasked to the Seekers. Supposedly a rogue mage hiding out in the hills north of Kakariko. Left three days ago. He’s expected back in Castletown a few days before you’re scheduled to arrive back with Zelda.” She rubbed at her temple. “The window won’t be open for long. I’ll have to keep him busy while not rousing suspicion. If he hasn’t figured out he’s compromised by then, he will soon after.”

“Parameters?”

“He will try and approach you.” Vian said, leaning forward and lacing her fingers. “Learn what you can first, but don’t tip your hand. Do not leak anything to anyone. He won’t leave himself vulnerable. I expect he’s turned a few already.” She chewed at her lip. “It won’t be easy. I’ll provide what assistance I can, but… no promises. We must avoid this coming to light at all costs.”

Impa nodded, resigned. Translation: she would bear the brunt of the risk. “Anything else I should know?”

Vian shook her head. “I’ll keep you apprised if I learn anything or if the situation changes. Expect a message waiting when you get back to Lurelin.”

“Very well.” She stood and bowed. Vian nodded in acknowledgement.

"Goddesses' fortune, child. The future of the kingdom may well rest with you."

Impa turned to leave. Nothing more needed to be said. Vesyrn had betrayed the kingdom, and was conspiring with an enemy faction to unknown ends. No other could act without throwing the kingdom into chaos, and so it fell to her. Her own feelings were irrelevant; she was a tool, and she would serve her purpose.

Best to get going. Daylight was waning, and she still had a long ride ahead.



Day 1, 24th of Last Storms:

I’m actually doing this. I’m actually going to see Nineve!

I'm going to chronicle the entire journey. I doubt any but me will ever read this, but in my studies I have often lamented that people did not journal more frequently. Journals are such wondrous troves of knowledge!

I digress…

Impa was initially concerned that the dreams involving the River Hylia may refer to the Zora themselves. However, the Zora have held peaceful relations with our people since time immemorial. I have no fear of an attack. They are and have always been decidedly isolationist (and more than a little xenophobic). Impa was persuaded by my arguments.

(The "mountain in the east" likely refers to Blin. Thurdan is unconcerned, though I have not shared details of the dreams nor their nature. I trust the High Captain to do his job, but perhaps I should look more closely at reports from Talus when I return.)

Presently, my hypotheses concerning the river are that either the dreams are metaphorical, or that they refer to some natural disaster. If they are metaphorical, I certainly have no idea as to their meaning. And if they refer to some natural disaster, it is unlike anything we have records of. In any case, I hope that Nineve will be able to shed light on the subject. She is over five thousand years old, after all. The secrets her mind must hold…

My secondary objective is to try and obtain a fourth shard of Wisdom. Impa is dubious the Zora will just give me the shard, and we have little to offer them in return. I freely admit it is unlikely, but it has to be worth a shot? They’ll believe me at least about the urgency and dire nature of the dreams. The remaining fragments are lost to us, though with her help and her memory, perhaps we may locate more. Dare I hope to reunite the shards and wield Nayru’s golden power for myself?

Impa still insists that I take the Crown. I still believe myself unfit for the task of governing a kingdom. Until now, I have held out hope for Father’s recovery. It pains me to admit, but she is likely right on that count. Oh, Father… we never did see eye to eye, but I miss you so dearly. I wish I had just one more day with you. One day — is that so much to ask? I hope you are not in pain. I will continue to pray to Hylia for your recovery.

For now, I have named Adresin as Prime Chancellor in my absence. I have also agreed to hold discussions with him and the other high nobles regarding succession when I return. That should ease the current tensions and buy me time.

Which reminds me — Seff is back in town. I had hoped to see his performances. It’s a shame I will most likely miss them. They are always so delightful, though I wish he wouldn't take so many liberties with history. Common understanding is bad enough as it is.

We’re looking at 21-23 days for the full journey. 9 days to travel to Zora’s Pass, a day or three to meet (depending on how cranky they're feeling this time of year), and 11 days to return. We’ll be able to sail directly to Hylia’s Watch on the way, though the return trip will require travel over land heading back upstream. With the entourage, Impa says she expects the journey to be mostly uneventful until we reach Hylia’s Watch. Is it odd that I find the prospect of danger exciting?

The core of my entourage consists of a dozen senior guardsmen, a master navigator, two healers, and Impa. Naturally, we will be accompanied by sailors on the way to Hylia's Watch. Once there, we'll pick up more soldiers to accompany us to Zora’s Pass. For the return trip, it will just be the core group. We will likely meet up with a caravan somewhere to travel back north.

I am so excited! I have much more to say, but Impa’s fussing at me to put away my quill and prepare.


Day 2, 25th of Last Storms:

Impa got back sometime during the night. She hasn’t spoken much, but I can tell she is upset. Sheikah business obviously, though this seems personal. I won’t press. She never opens up to me anyway. Still, usually I can at least provide her with some comfort and emotional catharsis with my company. I worry for her. It’s not healthy what she does to herself.

We’re boarding the ships today. "Ships" I am reminded to call them, and not "boats." Sailors are so passionate when it comes to their vessels. They even name them after women and speak of them with romantic imagery. Do they not have wives back home? I will never understand it.

The women (myself, Impa, one of the healers, and four of the guardsmen) will share quarters in one of the three boats ships. I hope it’s not too cramped.

I hope to see some interesting creatures on the way! I’ve never seen Kodongos, spumes, or stingers up close. Maybe I’ll even do some sketches…


Day 3, 26th of Last Storms:

Nothing interesting, unfortunately. It was raining all day, so I spent most of it below deck studying.

Something I never noticed before that merits further investigation: mentions of Fae completely disappear from cultural records towards the end of the Forsaken Era. To my knowledge, there hasn’t been a single mention of them in any record that I’m aware of within the last 500 years. And yet, it was quite common in earlier times. How strange.

Note: Need to cross reference any manuscripts I can find between the Gerudo Wars and Arminel’s Conquest. Maybe I can establish a more precise timeline. Did a single event cause the common folklore to fall out of favor, or was it a more gradual cultural shift?


Day 4, 27th of Last Storms:

Eeeeeeeee! I saw an octorok colony! They were swimming in the eddies up against the cliffs near the fork. Unfortunately, we couldn’t get too close because they kept lobbing rocks at us. But that didn't stop me from scrying them!

It was absurdly difficult. It's hard enough to correct for the boat SHIP'S movement without it rocking as it does, and scrying is already an unpleasant sensation as it is. I'm not enthused about trying that again, but it was definitely worth it for the views I got.

THEY HAVE TATTOOS! It's incredible! I mean, I knew from reading but I had no idea how intricate the designs were. So pretty!

Ithin (the ship’s captain) said they’re mostly harmless so long as you keep your distance, and that they are only aggressive when they feel threatened. They usually aren’t seen in such large numbers. Maybe it’s mating season? I am so fortunate! I need to schedule a trip soon just to study them in more detail.

It’s raining again today but I’m going to tough it out in the hopes I get to see more.


Day 5: 28th of Last Storms

No octoroks. And I overdid it with the scrying. Impa had to siphon some magic to me to prevent exhaustion. Need to be more careful.

Disembarking today for Hylia’s Watch. Finally. I hate ships. I never want to do this again. It’s so cramped and cold and musty and I have no privacy. And the sailors smell something horrid. Why can’t they just bathe regularly like decent folk? Gross.


Day 6: 29th of Last Storms

Finally made it to Hylia’s Watch. Got a hot bath and an actual meal for a change. Too bad we can’t stay longer.

The most dangerous leg of the journey is ahead of us. How exciting! It’ll be four days of hiking through wilderness both ways. We’ll be picking up a dozen soldiers from Hylia’s Watch, as well as a few oxgoats. I’ll be riding one bred specifically for travel in the area, as will our healers. Impa doubts we’ll be able to keep up with the group otherwise. She’s probably right.

We’ll be following the mountains as far inland as we can manage. The forest is much thinner there, and unless we’re particularly unlucky it will allow us to completely avoid any Lizalfos. Biro (our master navigator) says they’re actually fairly skittish and aren’t much of a threat, so long as we don’t make the mistake of getting anywhere near their breeding grounds. I had hoped to see one…

Apparently, the biggest threats are wolfos and kargaroks. Kargaroks are always a threat, but if you can spot them first you have time to bunch up and scare them off. That’s more difficult to do though with sparse tree cover. Biro says he's seen them crash through canopies and make off with people before. Terrifying.

He also says that wolfos won’t come near as long as we’re in a large enough group, and so it’s critically important not to break up or go off alone, even for a few minutes. I’ll need to resist the temptation to study the local flora and fauna. It’s a shame. Lots of things are poisonous around this region. Maybe I’ll get a chance someday to do a more focused observation of the area.


Day 7: 30th of Last Storms

Nothing particularly eventful thus far, unless you count a guardsman getting attacked by hornabees. I was promised danger!

(I jest.)

The guardsman is fine, by the way. Well, he will be. We brought healers for a reason.

The scenery is nice, though it’s not that much different from forests back home if I’m being honest. I tried a bit of scrying and chanced upon what looked like ruins, but couldn't see much of anything for the trees and overgrowth. I don't want to overdo it again.

Who would have thought that oxgoats smell better than sailors?

Making camp here is interesting. They set up wedge structures to hold firewood in the shape of a “V”. As it burns from the center, the upper logs roll down and keep the fire fed throughout the night. It also allows for covering above if it rains. How clever! The group sets up a few of them around camp before nightfall. Works both as a deterrent and to minimize distractions for those on watch.

Some of the soldiers complained about the pacing. Impa yelled at them. Said they could straggle behind if they really wanted, so as to draw any fiends towards them and away from us. “Then you’ll have finally done something useful with your pitiful existence,” she said. Mother's love, woman. Brutal.

…I love Impa. Tough. Fierce. Doesn't let anyone or anything stand in her way. I wish I was more like her.

(Needless to say, the soldiers haven't complained any since.)


Day 8: 31st of Last Storms

We lost a soldier and a guardsman today. They went off for some private time shortly after we stopped for camp, and got eaten by tektites. Idiots.

(I wonder if tektites are tamable? I would love to see Taetus’ reaction!)

I miss Anli. I wonder what she’s up to?


Day 9: 32nd of Last Storms

Almost there! Just a few hours’ trek and we’ll be at Zora Pass.

Biro is surprised we've had such an uneventful journey thus far. I suppose I should thank the goddesses for our good fortune.


Zelda sat alone in a foot-deep sandy pool, shaded from the midday sun. She had sent a message ahead and was now awaiting an emissary. Impa waited with a guard detail far behind. Zelda had instructed them not to interfere and not to approach, no matter what happened.

A small fish with silvery scales darted to and fro at the other end of the pool; an offering to her host as was customary. She had also brought a few trinkets and baubles to serve as collateral in the event of any social missteps. Nothing particularly valuable, though each was handmade by a master craftsman with elaborate care. Zora had an odd sense of aesthetics, and even odder sensibilities.

An hour passed. Two.

To keep a guest waiting like this would have been seen as an affront to Hylia herself back in Hyrule. But Zelda knew from her reading that the emissary would be watching from a distance, and that they would refuse the offer of a meeting if they thought their guest incapable of exhibiting patience and restraint. It was quite possible they would require a full day or two of the display before electing to meet. No matter; she was determined.

The shadow of the hillside grew longer. Zelda meditated, clearing her mind. She focused on her breathing, on the sounds of the river nearby, and of nature. She felt the fish brush up against her feet a time or three.

Just when she was considering heading back to camp for the day, she saw it. Across the way, a sleek humanoid figure breached the water and landed gracefully on shore. They made it seem effortless; as easy as an experienced rider dismounting a horse. She could not tell if they were male or female at this distance; most Zora appeared considerably more androgynous in both form and presentation than did Hylians.

Zora faces appeared bald and somewhat childlike to her Hylian eyes, with something like a tapered caudal keel and fin at the back of their heads in place of hair. Their eyes were elongated with a slight forward slant, and were positioned closer to the sides of their heads than the center. Long fins protruded from their forearms, hips, and calves, and their hands and feet were webbed. Zelda found them to be most fascinating.

The sleek figure drew near. Male, she observed, judging by the widening face and slight angles from jaw to forehead. His pale blue skin was smooth and glossy from head to toe. He wore no clothing, but sported all manner of ornamentation. Interestingly, there were few metals; mostly colored glass, beads, and rough-hewn gems strung together with rope-like fibers.

Zelda rose, elbows out and fingers of both hands forming a sphere. The emissary neared, and returned the gesture. “I am honored by the presence of my elder,” she said; the proper greeting. Truthfully she didn’t know his age, but it was a safe bet he was far older than she.

“Greetings, daughter of Hylia,” He sat, snatching the fish from the pool and biting through its head with a sickening crunch. Rows of jagged, sharp teeth lined his mouth.

Zelda did not react to the sight as she returned to the pool. “May I know the name of he who graciously hosts me today?” she asked.

“This one is Golvara,” he replied between bites.

Zelda waited for him to finish. A couple bites more, and then he held what remained of the fish by the tail and dropped it into his mouth.

An uncomfortable silence followed. Golvara said nothing more. She could not tell where he was looking; Zora eyes were black and without irises. Zelda was unsure if she should speak or wait. “I trust wisest Nineve has received my message?” she ventured.

“She has,” came his reply.

Right… “And… what does the Wisest have to say?” Zelda asked.

“ⰩⰃ Ⱀ'Ⱉ'ⰘⰠⰄⰄ ⰄⰏⰄ ⰪⰂ'ⰦⰏ Ⱐ'ⰉⰋ Ⱋ'ⰊⰮⰃ Ⰸ'Ⰵ' Ⱙ'ⰕⰉ,” Golvara spoke in his native tongue. The sounds flowed continuously, and were punctuated with hard breaks just as flowing water crashed against the river banks. Beautiful, but the meaning wholly escaped her. What had he said?

“The day grows long,” he said shortly, “and Golvara has little patience for petulant children.”

Oh, damnation. She had offended him already. She scrambled to select one of the baubles in her pack, choosing a loop of silver with several smaller loops of varying sizes embedded in its ring.

“Please, dear elder, forgive my petulence,” Zelda said. She offered up the bauble with both hands extended, bowing her head fractionally. Thinking quickly, she added: “I only mean to say that I expected to discuss matters of grave importance to my kingdom with Her Eminence.”

Was that the right form of address? Likely not, but truly Zelda did not know. Little was known about Zora culture and governance outside of bits and pieces that had been cobbled together over the ages by scholars and diplomats. She knew Nineve was the eldest among them, and was highly regarded. She assumed it only proper for one royal dignitary to meet with another of their station.

“It is no insult,” Golvara said. He took the offering, studied it, then clipped it to his right earring. “Golvara knows your kind to be brash, ill-tempered, and disrespectful. You have fallen from Hylia’s grace, and cannot help what you are.”

Wow, okay. Zelda knew from secondhand accounts that some among the Zora — particularly the older ones — could come across somewhat pointed and snobbish. Still, that threw her. Those she had interacted with before now had been much more reserved and certainly had not dealt out sweeping judgements of her entire race and culture.

He must have sensed something in her response, as he elaborated in a softer tone: “Golvara will observe your customs. If he deems it worth wisest Nineve’s attention, he will bring Your Grace’s matters to her.”

Somehow despite his tone, his inflection of the words still managed to convey a contempt that would put Taetus to shame. With a sigh, Zelda collected herself. That she would not be meeting with Nineve was… disappointing. But not all was lost.

 “Very well. I… trust the elder’s judgement,” she said carefully. Golvara nodded. Good. “…Does Golvara know of this one’s dreams?”

“ⰚⰉ'ⰨⰉⰆ ⰞⰃⰄ ⰐⰃⰣ'ⰏⰜ.”

By the Mother, but she was doing so well!

“Speak plainly, as you would to your people,” Golvara said. Zelda made to fish out another trinket, but he held up a hand. “No. Golvara knows your intent.”

Okay, then. At least he seemed somewhat reasonable. Zelda sat patiently, hands in her lap.

“Matters of the lost children and of the savages do not concern the Zora,” Golvara continued a moment later. He made a gesture Zelda did not recognize, touching one hand to an elbow and extending his palm. “But wisest Nayru sends you visions of the great river. This concerns the Zora. You are right to share your worry, and you have earned Golvara’s gratitude.”

Excellent. She was finally getting somewhere—

“—But you should have come to the Zora sooner.”

…There was no winning with him. Be that as it may, it didn’t matter so long as he was willing to listen. She took a moment to compose her next query carefully.

“If you deem it wise to share your thoughts,” she said, “I would like to know your take on my dreams, and perhaps that of others among the Zora? Presently, their meaning eludes me.”

“That is fair,” Golvara said, nodding. “Golvara believes they may speak of a great evil long thought dormant. Others agree, but to fathom the whispers of wisest Nayru from the great beyond is never certain.”

Was that it? Zelda waited, but more information was not forthcoming. Just as she thought to speak, Golvara held up a hand.

“Golvara knows your thoughts. To speak the name of Ja’bu will do no harm, but the name will mean nothing to the children of Hylia. This matter concerns the Zora, and the Zora alone. The Zora will see it handled.”

Zelda felt like a great burden had been lifted from her shoulders. She could breathe easier now knowing her message had been well received. She bowed her head. “Thank you. Thank you, Golvara! That is most reassuring to hear.”

“It is no matter,” Golvara said. “Now. Does Your Grace have other matters to discuss?”

Zelda felt uneasy. She wanted to ask, but dare she? There was no way he would not take offense. Still, to come all this way…

“Wise elder, I would seek to reunite the shards of Wisdom. To see Nayru’s golden power made whole. With it, I could—”

“Ⰸ'Ⰵ' ⰚⰉ'ⰨⰉⰘⰏ Ⱏ'ⰚⰆⰊ,” Golvara replied. “No, do not make your offering. If this matter were so easily done, the Zora would have done it. Have you found information pertaining to the lost shards?”

“I… no, I have not,” Zelda said, blushing. Golvara crossed his arms. She knew that gesture. And now she would make a complete fool of herself. Well, nothing for it. “I had thought that perhaps the Zora would allow me to—”

“Ⱝ'ⰄⰜ,” Golvara said, standing and throwing his arms in the air. “Ⱝ'ⰄⰜ ⰅⰊⰆ ⰩⰃ Ⱏ'ⰚⰆⰊ.”

“Forgive me, wise elder, but—”

“A fourth would not even clarify your dreams!”

“Please! I only—”

“—ⰭⰉ ⰇⰊⰎ ⰄⰧ'ⰚⰎ ⰩⰎ'ⰓⰉ Ⰸ'Ⰵ' ⰇⰂ'ⰣⰄ ⰊⰉⰄ ⰩⰃ Ⱒ'Ⰷ'Ⰶ Ⰼ'Ⱄ'Ⰲ Ⱄ'Ⱀ' ⰉⰪ'ⰄⰗ ⰩⰃ ⰬⰚⰊⰊⰃ Ⱋ'ⰊⰮⰃ Ⰸ'Ⰵ' Ⱗ'ⰁⰊ Ⱚ'ⰛⰃⰔⰂⰎⰎ ⰍⰆ'ⰙⰆ ⰊⰅ'ⰊⰈⰣⰏ…”

Golvara, clearly incensed, continued to rant in his tongue as he stomped off.

Zelda knew she had only herself to blame. It wasn’t like she didn’t see it coming.



Day 17, 5th of First Brisk:

I completely forgot I wanted to chronicle the entire journey! So much for that.

Let’s see…

My message was well received. Golvara was incredibly rude, and it was extremely disappointing that I didn't get the chance to speak with Nineve herself. I hope I didn’t upset him too much.

I pray to Hylia that the Zora will be able to forestall a disaster. But a “great evil long thought dormant?” I’ll be following up on that. Possibly I could get more information from Sages Rutilo or Vulas through the Order?

The group was much more careful on the way back after the tektite incident. No fiend attacks. Everyone made it back to Hylia’s Watch safely. Not even a single Lizalfos sighting. Hurrah.

We joined up with a caravan yesterday. Nice enough folk, I suppose. Mostly merchants. They have a bard. He’s okay, though he’s no Seff. We crossed the river at Rhomar’s Span, and are half a day from Lurelin.

I haven’t told Impa yet, but I’ve finally decided. I’m not going to abdicate, but I will extend Adresin’s tenure as Prime Chancellor until I am more confident in my ability to rule without running the kingdom into the ground. I’ll have to put off my studies, and scale back my projects, but ultimately it is the only sane path forward. She will understand. I hope. I hate disappointing her.

It will be okay. Everything is going to be okay.


Day 18, 6th of First Brisk:

It’s happening. The dreams are coming true. It’s worse than I could have imagined.

Talus was overrun. They retreated to Hateno, but the hordes march north. No one knows anything. They’ve never been this coordinated?????

I’m to ride with Impa back to the Castle. More of a formality than anything, but I’ve sent advance notice granting General Letholdus emergency powers. We’re preparing for war.

Goddesses… help us.


The Lord General addressed his war council, gesturing to painted figurines and shuffling them about as he spoke. Wymar Letholdus: Father's cousin. He was detailing enemy numbers. Troop movements. Recounting relevant details of the battles and skirmishes thus far. The other dozen or so attendees, gathered loosely around a large map of the kingdom, stood in a dead silence hanging on his every word. For her part, Zelda's eyes followed but her mind was not present.

She watched as the general moved eight red markers to bar four green markers that had maneuvered west and then north of Hateno. He then shuffled three more to overrun the town nestled in the mountain pass, and removed the green marker that had remained.

Zelda could scarcely believe what she saw. Try as she might, but she just could not connect the reports and the markers on the board with the world she lived in. The Blin were coordinating. They were following a strategy. They were not here to pillage. They had broken through the defenses, and now they were marching north.

North, to Castletown. North, to the heart of Hyrule. A Blight? That, they could handle. They had done so before in centuries past. They would hunker down. Ride out to meet the disorganized enemy on the field after they spread across the countryside. They would systematically crush them, rout them, exterminate the stragglers, and force them back. Tens of thousands would die, and the destruction would be immense… but ultimately, her people would survive.

But now? Her people faced not a Blight, but utter annihilation.

Logically, she understood this. And yet, some stubborn part of her mind refused to accept the reality she knew to be true. Nothing this horrible could be real. That part of her mind insisted she was safe inside the castle — that this was all some awful, abhorrent game. Tomorrow she would sleep in, wake up, and everything would be back to normal. She would sip her tea in a warm bath as Anli brushed her hair, and then she would have breakfast and begin her studies. In time, this would all fall away from memory as little more than a bad dream.

She shook herself, trying to focus.

“…suffered significant losses in the initial assault as well, but we are not certain of the exact magnitude,” Wymar said. “The lower estimates place it at fifty-thousand — which we will take as the assumption — though this could be off by as much as a factor of two. In conclusion, we face four-hundred and sixty thousand bearing north, and another ninety thousand bearing south.”

“The remaining Talus forces have retreated across Rhomar's span,” Wymar continued, moving four green figures to the far side of the river. “As we speak, they are joined by every soldier that can be spared from Hylia's Watch and Last Bastion, along with reserves and militia from the southern territories. That will count for another four regiments, though many will be ill-equipped.” He placed four yellow figurines beside the green, for a total of eight.

Another officer spoke now — an older veteran with a cane. Raolin, wasn't it? He was appointed as High Captain of the City Guard a couple years ago. “All told, we have fifty-thousand trained soldiers ready to defend the city,” he said, placing several blue and grey markers at Castletown. “Primarily reserves and veterans; augmented by the City Guard. We've also mustered another eighty-thousand militia from the nearby regions, though most of them are little more than farmers. The quality of their equipment is highly variable, though we can count on the majority of them having a minimal level of training from service at Talus. We've set smiths to work forging helmets, swords, spears, arrows, and the like, but it still won't be enough to properly outfit them all. We've also begun digging ditches, setting traps, and placing caltrops and barricades outside the walls.”

“How many mages,” Wymar asked?

“Maybe enough for a battalion?” Raolin answered, scratching at his beard.

Wymar grunted.

To Zelda's right, a female officer she didn't recognize spoke up. “From the Kakariko province we'll have another eighteen-thousand reserves, and perhaps thirty-thousand militia. We've already set up staging grounds along on the northern shores of Lake Hylia, but at the rate the hordes are advancing they'll be two days behind the first waves.” She placed grey markers where indicated. “But if we can hold out until then… that puts us at better than one-to-three odds?”

“Over half of these auxiliary forces are militia,” another officer replied tersely. “They're fodder at best.” Zelda didn't recognize him either. He was tall, and had black hair.

“That may be so,” Raolin replied, “but keep in mind that about half of the enemy numbers are bokoblin. They're smaller, malnourished. Their arms are going to be significantly worse than farmers with scythes and pitchforks. Mostly bone, wood, and crude iron. Few of them will have any armor to speak of. In the field, their tactics are usually hit-and-run with superior numbers. A well-armored and well-trained column with cavalry and magical support can handle far worse odds.”

The tall officer shook his head in response. “No. Given the reports, any assumptions based on precedent and history are tenuous at best. It would be a mistake to rely on past experience. We must assume the enemy will anticipate and adapt.”

Raolin waved a hand in acknowledgement. He crossed his arms and muttered something about "the boy being right," but didn't look to have anything else to say.

Wymar tapped at the Floodplains, drawing attention back to himself. “Our best bet is here. We've had heavier rains than usual this year, which means it will be nigh-impossible for them to ford the rivers anywhere further south. Special forces can harass the attackers as they cross. With luck and good reconnaissance, we can make a sizable dent in their numbers before they can regroup. If nothing else, it will buy us time for more fortifications, and maybe even enough for the reinforcements. Worst case, we simply retreat back to Castletown.”

A brief pause as the council considered his suggestion. The others murmured in general agreement. As far as strategy and tactics were concerned, Zelda knew enough to defer judgement to those more capable than she. Still, it still sounded like a solid enough plan.

“Not bad,” the tall officer said. “Some of us may survive this yet.”

The murmurs ceased, and a grim silence fell over the room.

“Moving on,” Wymar said, breaking the silence. “Defense plans for the city?”