I am… I was the goddess called Hylia.

I do not know how this message finds you. I only pray that it does. Take heed, and listen: for more is at stake than you may know.

I was the grand culmination of my Mothers' work. An artisanal masterpiece of Nayru's design: an entity that could harness the combined might of their divine power without being destroyed; a singular will that could not be corrupted and turned against itself.

I was to be the guardian, steward, and protector of their realm. And yet, I failed in my task.

I wish I could tell you that some part of me knew it would happen. That I had ever questioned at all. That deep down in the depths of my being, some small voice had rebelled, had suspected. But no — it was that very first instant when I saw him charging heedlessly into the abyss, sword held high, eyes alight with the fire of the gods, that bright red hair dancing to the tune of his fury…

…That first moment was when I had lost. My undoing… my demise… was borne of trust, and of love.

Do not underestimate the enemy, for he is desolation, and havoc; animosity, and betrayal; malice, incarnate. Do not make my mistake. I am now fractured; fragmented. A mere shadow of my former self, lost and adrift in the Void between worlds.

Please, I beg you: save my children. Protect them, where I could not. You must prevail. You must stop him. You must. For he will not stop. He will never stop. Your world may be next…

Take heed, and listen:


A crash like the fist of an angry god slammed against the gatehouse, and it seemed the very foundations of the world shook with it. It came again. And again.

A regiment of militia stood in loose formations in the courtyard ahead, lobbing javelins and firing arrows at the enemy over the walls. Link held back with the rest of the regulars, pulse pounding and eager for battle. Around them, the streets had been barricaded save for a few lines leading back to the castle. There were four gates in all. Once each fell, their orders were to hold as long as possible in a fighting retreat. The enemy would be forced to funnel into bottlenecks, improving the odds considerably.

The Blin had nearly overrun the defenders on the walls now, and were hurling down pellets from slings. The militia in the courtyard began to fall, dozens at a time. It wasn't long before they broke.

Crash. Crash.

“Archers, at the walls! Shields, hold the line!” the captain bellowed, rushing forward.

Link had been ready for the command and was only a step behind. He dashed through the retreating militia, slid off to the side, and went down to one knee. Bracing himself, he drew an arrow and let loose. It hit true, piercing one of the beasts in the chest. It fell from the wall, and Link was ready with another shot just as more soldiers formed up around him. He let loose again, and soon arrows whizzed through the air. The Blin dropped like flies, and it wasn't long before the walls were clear again.

Crash—

The gate gave way—splinters and debris flying in all directions. Through the dust, Link saw a a dozen moblin twice his size heave aside a massive battering ram. The brutish creatures backed away, and a veritable swarm of smaller bokoblin spewed forth.

“Now!” the captain commanded. A switch released, dumping barrels of hot oil on the heads of the invaders. In the same instant, a fireball hurled across the courtyard and turned the mass of creatures into a blazing inferno. Charred corpses fell to the ground, and Link reveled in their screams of agony. The reprieve was short-lived, however, as another wave broke through the breach the moment the flames died down.

“Ready! Volley!” the captain commanded. Link followed the command, firing an arrow downrange. Hundreds more followed. The bodies piled up.

Yet another wave followed, and even more poured over the walls. Link spotted a few bulblin among them; substantially larger and heartier than the smaller ones, but not as big as the largest brutes. He aimed for one.

“Again, volley!”

The arrows flew, and javelins rained down en masse. Perhaps one in ten managed to survive this time. They charged headlong, heedless of the danger. Link readied another arrow and watched as the captain stepped forward to impale the chest of the largest foe. The smaller ones around him balked, and were effortlessly cut to ribbons. More still poured through the gates in an endless stream, ever bigger and tougher than the fodder that came before. Many now had shields and armor.

“Archers, fire at will! Aim for the big ones!” the captain ordered, rejoining the line. “Shields, ready! Brace!”

Link let loose. Arrows whistled, and dozens of charging Blin dropped to the ground. It wasn’t enough. They crashed against the line, and the fight began in earnest.


Zelda stilled her breathing as she applied pressure to the soldier's wound, near the shoulder at the base of his neck. She tried her best to remain calm despite his writhing pain. Two aides held him down as she worked, and one held a wooden spoon between his teeth.

Motes of green energy sparked to life around her hands, swirling in spiral patterns. She focused, pushing the healing energies through. Good—it was taking. The bleeding stemmed and the skin around the laceration was knitting back together. Just a couple more minutes, and…

No. No, no, no! Not another one!

Zelda watched in horror as the wound tore itself back open. Dark blood oozed out, and the tissue around the cut turned a deep angry red. The wound had been inflicted with bloodrage.

The soldier screamed, thrashing. Zelda fell back, her heart racing and eyes burning. She tried to wipe the sweat and tears from her eyes with her sleeve, but only managed to smear blood over her face. One of the aides called for a guard. Zelda watched, numb, as the man strode up. He nodded gravely and plunged a sword into the blighted man's heart. The screaming ceased, and the man fell limp. The guard shook his head, wiped off his blade, and returned to his post. The aides rolled the corpse onto a stretcher and carted it off.

Zelda felt dizzy, weak, and could barely stand. She braced herself against her knees and likely would have vomited again, except there was nothing left by now. She looked out over the infirmary. Ghastly. Nauseating. The carnage wrought by those wretched voidspawn was so much worse than anything she could have imagined.

She wanted so badly to just curl into a ball and scream and sob until it was all over, but she knew she could not. She had to continue. She had to. Her green magic was a scarce resource, and wounded soldiers needed healing. She wasn't of any use otherwise, and so her place was here with the scant few like her that could be spared for the task.

Uneasily, she stood. Triage. Next… next was…

“Your Grace!” she heard someone call. “Your Grace, over here!” Zelda turned to see a tall, dark-skinned nurse beckoning her over to the storeroom. She nodded, making her way over.

Wait — that nurse's accent? Something about it was… off. Zelda paused just as she reached the doorway. Cautiously, she peered through. The woman was nowhere to be found.

Zelda shook her head, turning to leave. Whatever that had been, she didn't have time—

“Just a moment, Your Grace,” said a burly man in the doorway. Zelda nearly bumped into him. She stumbled back into the room, surprised.

“…Vesyrn?” she asked, after having a chance to study the man. She recognized him as a Sheikah — Impa's superior. What was he doing here? “What's… what's going on? Is something the matter? Where is Impa?”

He approached, holding up a hand. “Calm yourself, Princess. It is nothing urgent. You are safe. I just had a few important matters to discuss with you, is all.”

Zelda narrowed her eyes. Something was very not right. She stepped back, keeping her distance. She didn't know Impa's location and so couldn't use telepathy to contact her, but she did have the golden power. She used it, clasping her hands over her bracers and sending out a pulse.

Impa. I am in the storeroom of the infirmary. Vesyrn is here. Something isn't right.

Vesyrn groaned, shaking his head. “I really wish you had not done that. Now you leave me no choice.”

Danger. Escape. On my way, came Impa's response.

Oh no.

A green ball of energy crackled in Vesyrn's raised hand. Zelda had no time to conjure a field to deflect it. She tried to throw herself to the side, but the ball grazed her shoulder. Before she could react, her whole body was on fire. Painful jolts of electricity shot up and down her arm, and her muscles spasmed out of control. She tried to scream for help, but Vesyrn dropped down beside her and shoved a gag into her mouth.

She watched, helpless and writhing, as he snatched the bracers off her arms and lifted the chain from her neck. What was he doing?! How could he?! She had no answers, and before she could act the man was gone.

The pulses abated. Zelda struggled to her feet and yanked the gag out of her mouth. She ran from the storeroom, calling for aid. A moment later, four guardsmen were at her side.

“Your Grace! What's the alarm?”

“Impa! Where's Impa?!” she demanded, clutching at her throbbing arm.

“Here, Princess!” Impa called from across the courtyard, sprinting.

Zelda's eyes flashed blue. She could not risk saying the words aloud. He has the fragments.

Impa slid to a halt. “Get the Princess to safety! Now!” She yelled, taking off in the other direction without another word.

Stay low. Stay safe, her response came. I know where he's going.

“This way, Your Grace,” one of the guardsmen said, leading the way.

Zelda followed. Her hands shook, and her nerves were still on edge. Silently, she felt around in her pocket to find her mother's locket. It was safe. The clasp had broken earlier and she didn't have time to repair it, so she stowed it away.

How fortuitous. It was almost absurd.


So much blood. So much death.

It was on a scale unlike anything Link had ever seen. They had been fighting for what felt like ages. Soldiers lay dead and dying all around him. His company had successfully broken through and now had a clear line to the castle. But now wasn't the time to take in the scenery. Link half-stumbled backward into formation.

The captain gave the command. Link and two dozen archers sprinted ahead, then spun and dropped to their knees, bows at the ready. As their fellows passed them, they let loose at the pursuing enemies. Half dropped; half continued to charge. At twenty paces, Link and the others bolted back and dove behind the next firing line. His squad readied again, but the enemy had been eliminated, and no others took up the pursuit. What remained of his company jogged the rest of the way, across the drawbridge and to safety.

Winded, Link fell out and collapsed off to the side. Most of the others had the same idea. Everything ached, but thankfully he had not suffered any wounds. Scanning the grounds, it seemed his company was one of the last to make it back. But there were… many fewer than there should have been. That didn't bode well. Had everyone fared as badly as his company?

“—still held up at the northwest gate. It's a massacre,” he overheard — soldiers posted at the bridge were conversing. Link forced himself to his feet and shuffled closer so he could hear.

“But a whole regiment is still out there. What do we do?”

“Nothing—our orders are clear.”

“Are you serious? We can't just cut them off!”

“If the hordes draw any closer, we won't have a choice. I don't like it either, but orders are orders.”

Link's response was immediate. Instinctual. Purpose stirred within him; a primal vigor urging him to action.

No, was his only thought. Singular, defiant, decisive. That will not happen. Not while I still breathe.

His feet carried him to the stables nearby, and onto the back of an armored steed. Someone called after him, but he paid them no mind. He set off at a gallop, and drew up at the courtyard before the drawbridge.

“At arms!” he bellowed. Around him, soldiers scrambled to their feet. They looked to him expectantly, though he heard murmurs and saw a few exchanged glances when they realized he was not wearing an officer's uniform.

Quick, say something.

“Form up!” Link commanded. “We're relieving the northwest gate!”

“Belay that order!” someone yelled in response. One of the soldiers at the gate jogged out to meet him. “I have direct orders from High Captain Raolin. No one is to leave the castle!”

Link grit his teeth. Fire and determination welled within him, pushing him to act. He would not be stopped; damned be the consequences. He drew his sword, leveling it at the man who dared to bar his way.

“You! Run, and tell the High Captain that his nephew has taken command!”

Dumbfounded, the man drew back. He didn't do as Link commanded, but he did step aside and gesture for another to relay the message.

Link tugged on his horse's reins, wheeling about. “The rest of you!” he yelled, searching for the right words. Truthfully, he had no idea what to say, but he had to say something. “Our brothers and sisters are stranded out there, and they need our help! Any of you with a shred of honor will form up, and come with me!”

The response wasn't anything like Link expected. Perhaps fifty — sixty? — fell into formation. Another dozen made for the stables and rode up beside him.

“We're with you, sir!” one of the riders called, raising his sword. The others yelled and stamped their feet in response.

It wasn't enough. It wasn't nearly enough. But it would have to do.


Impa, fueled by red magic, bounded across the battlements of the castle's inner walls. She leapt from one platform, swung from a spire, and crashed through an upper-story window using a short burst of magic to clear her way. She dove down a staircase and around a corner, dashing through the hall.

She smelled the burning flesh before she saw the scene. Three guardsmen had been felled mere moments prior. Smoke rose from one whose chest bore a smoldering hole, with jagged crisscrossing lines radiating outward from the point of impact. Another had been impaled with his own spear, and the last laid twitching in a pool of his own blood.

Vesyrn — how could he? Vian suspected he had poisoned the King and had tasked Impa with finding more information… and eventually confronting and killing her once-master. But she had received word that he fled following Vian's death and Allanna's disappearance a few days' prior. Foolishly, she had let her guard down. But now he had attacked Zelda in broad daylight, and was planning to abscond with the fragments of the goddesses' golden power to unknown ends. What had happened, that had convinced him to betray his own order and the kingdom he swore to protect?

It didn't matter. She would see him pay for his crimes, and hopefully subvert his plans before it was too late.

Impa steeled herself. A torrent of energy exploded around her; consumed her. Her body twisted and morphed. Every inch of her skin screamed in agony as her skin thickened and clustered into scales. Her fingers stretched into claws, her teeth grew into jagged fangs, and spines erupted from her skull and neck.

Her transformation complete, she flew forward in a rage and shattered the door to the King's chambers. Vesyrn was waiting by the rafters, and let loose with bolts of green energy. Impa was ready. She weaved between them and launched herself upward, grabbing him and slamming through to land on a tiled roof outside.

Somewhere in the scuffle, she lost purchase and Vesyrn slipped from her grasp. She stumbled and fell, but slowed her descent with a rake of her claws. She scanned for her target, and found him fleeing along a walkway ahead and to the right. She kicked, and with three great leaps she was there to cut him off.

Vesyrn halted, raising his hands to ward her off. “It doesn't have to end like this, Impa!”

Impa only growled, her fury rising. This man was not the man she knew. He attacked Zelda. His other crimes notwithstanding, that could never be forgiven. She pounced, readying herself to swipe—

A column of ice sprung up from nowhere, cutting her off. She coiled midair and slammed her legs against it, arresting her momentum and causing it to fracture. Behind her, two more had joined the fray. On instinct, Impa moved swiftly to try and seize ground to gain a better position, but Vesyrn and his lackeys moved with her, circling her and denying her movement.

“Listen to me: I would never harm the Princess, and it was never our intention to kill the King! We only wanted Zelda to take the crown!” Vesyrn yelled.

“You killed Vian!” Impa roared, her voice deep and guttural. “Allanna!”

“No! There are forces at play that you do not understand!”

That gave her pause. Could he be telling the truth?

He raised his hands placatingly, stepping closer and lowering his voice. “Listen, I don't have time to explain. We need to get the fragments out of Castletown. My patron—”

“No,” Impa interrupted, voice rumbling. “You know I can't let you do that.”

She didn't know what to think about the rest, and she wouldn't be able to reason clearly with her form magically altered like this. At the same time, she dared not drop her transformation; she faced a tough enough fight already. To do so would only seal her fate. But the fragments of gold… the goddesses' power made manifest? Wars had been fought over them. Kingdoms left in ruin. She would fight here and die if it meant keeping them out of the wrong hands.

Impa readied herself, assessing her opponents and weighing her options.

“Damnation, Impa!” Vesyrn yelled, falling back. “Don't make me kill you!”

But her mind was made up. She would not be deceived. Whatever his motivations, if he had ever wanted to cooperate he would not have attacked Zelda and murdered the guardsmen below.


Ahead, Link could see a mass of soldiers amid a sea of Blin. They were clustered tightly, fighting in the beetle formation with shields interlocked and rows of spears jutting out.

Link readied himself, nodding to the men at his sides. This was it. He gave the signal, and the riders charged. The rest trailed behind on foot, bellowing war cries. Link raised his sword, and directed the charge to where the enemy numbers were thinnest. They punched through, knocking bodies aside with ease and trampling them underfoot. Behind him, his men surged in to hold the gap with swords and shields at the ready.

It was working! It was actually working!

“Retreat! Let's go! Move, move!” he commanded. The massed soldiers wasted no time. The side of the formation nearest Link fanned out to cover the gap, and those inside sprinted through.

The Blin advanced.

As he scanned the streets, Link's head snapped back and his ears rang as a pellet ricocheted off his helmet. That likely exhausted his luck, and so he gathered up his remaining reserves to refresh the effect.

Link leapt from his horse, pulling his shield up for cover and ramming a sword into the chest of a foe attempting to flank a soldier at his side. He pulled the sword free and cut a smaller one down just ahead that tried to rush him. As he recovered, he saw a blur of movement in his periphery. Just in time, he ducked under a mighty but poorly-aimed swing, and hacked the leg away from the brute, shoving him aside. Another rushed him, and another fell by his blade.

They were everywhere. Breathing heavily, Link backed away, trying to edge closer to his support. There were so many…

A larger foe now stepped up to challenge him. This one was easily twice his size, and carried an club as thick as Link's leg. The creature's eyes glowed red. Bloodrage. Link would need to be careful. Even a glancing hit and he would be as good as dead.

The moblin roared, swinging wildly. Link dodged, dodged again, then braced himself against an attack aimed at his head. He raised his shield to deflect it, but didn't quite get the angle right. The club slammed into his shield, sending a jolt of pain through his arm. The moblin reared back to swing again, but Link didn't give him the chance. He dove in, slicing through the creature's stomach and clean through its spine.

Caught up in the fight, Link found himself further and further away from the others. He began to panic. He had to act now, or he he would be overwhelmed. He bolted for an opening—

—And it happened again. There was no mistaking it: a flash of insight, and the feeling of his consciousness floating in from nowhere to settle anew in his body. Link threw himself to the ground. No sooner than he did, a spear hurdled through the space he vacated to impale a hapless bokoblin a few paces ahead.

That spear would have certainly killed him. Whatever it was he experienced just now was not mere luck. The necklace — could it be?

With a rising sense of dread, Link rose to his feet. He was completely surrounded now, but the Blin gave him a wide berth. They were chanting, and cheering.

ሁሁᏆᏌ! ጠዐ-ᛕዐ-βᏓᏆᏁ. ሁሁᏆᏌ! ጠዐ-ᛕዐ-βᏓᏆᏁ.

Hesitantly, Link turned. At the far end of the throng stood the largest Blin he had ever laid eyes upon. It was a thing of tales and folklore. The hulking abomination towered above him, snarling. Cords of muscle and sinew rippled across its body. Its skin was painted red with fresh blood, its eyes burned red, and it carried a battle axe that had to weigh more than Link did himself.

Was this the warlord? Link knew he should retreat — every instinct he had screamed at him to do so. He had no chance against this thing. But if he was right… if there was even a chance he could fell the creature here and now…

Dear Goddess, Link prayed. Holy Mother, guide my blade. I will be your champion.


Zelda stumbled along, guards at her side. Her feet ached. Her shoulder ached. She was covered in blood and sweat, and was nearly exhausted. Her mind raced, and she was unable to pull herself together. She wanted so badly to just do something useful. If only she had acted sooner! Instead, here she was being shuffled to the inner sanctum to cower and await news of her fate, hiding away while her kingdom fell to pieces around her. How was Impa faring? Would the defenders hold out? Was this the end?

She and her detail rounded the last corner and entered the sanctum. Her thoughts were interrupted by a sight she never expected to see — especially here, of all places. A tall, dark-skinned woman stood before them, resting against a large glaive. She wore traditional Gerudo armor: loose pantaloons and a form-fitting tunic over a light mail hauberk.

Zelda's guard acted instantly, drawing their arms and moving to attack.

“Hold!” the woman said, with a thick accent. She raised her weapon, but fell back. “I am not the enemy! I have a message for the Princess!”

“Drop your weapon and stand aside!” one of the guards commanded.

“Wait!” Zelda said, edging forward and trying to get a better view. The guards however did not move, and her view remained obstructed. She recognized that voice, though; it was the 'nurse' from earlier — she was sure of it. Was she working with Vesyrn? She had no idea what this was about, but she needed answers.

“Your message — what is it?”

“Princess!” the Gerudo woman called. “The Lynx offers you her support. But you must come with me. We do not have much time. They will soon be upon us.”

“Who are 'they?'” Zelda asked.

“Servants of the Exiled King,” she answered. “There is no time,” she said, growing frantic. “Come, you must—”

Above her, Zelda heard glass shattering. Six robed figures landed on the second story above. Three of them were armed with bows, and let loose with a rain of arrows as the others charged.

It unfolded faster than Zelda could follow. Shots glanced off her guards' armor, and one of them took an arrow in the shoulder before they could raise their defenses. Her heart thrummed in her chest as she heard an arrow whiz by her head. The injured guard ushered her back, shield drawn to protect her. A thud sounded as another arrow struck and was embedded in the raised shield.

Ahead, a melee ensued; Zelda couldn't follow it. She and the injured guard scrambled backward. One of the assassins broke free and made a beeline for her. The guard at her side made to intercept, and they locked weapons.

Acting quickly, Zelda summoned up a veritable tide of blue magic. Channeling it into the form of an ice crystal, it erupted from the ground and impaled the attacker in the chest. The guard fell back to her side. Immediately, Zelda raised a sheet of ice for protection. Not a second too late, as an arrow deflected off the curved surface.

Turning her attention, she realized with dawning horror that the rest of her guard had fallen. Only the messenger and two of the attackers remained. The messenger parried an attack and made to riposte, but her target ducked, allowing an opening for the archer to land a shot. It caught her in the neck, and she stumbled to the side, clutching at the wound. Blood gushed from her fingers, and she slumped to the ground. The assassins recovered, and advanced.

No, Zelda thought, panic rising.

Her last remaining guardsman was injured. Zelda herself was low on magic, and was completely outclassed. She was no fighter. She knew they did not stand a chance.

Hylia — Goddess Above! Zelda prayed. Please… don't let it end like this!


Impa sensed an opening and lunged forward, feigning an attack at Vesyrn. Red sparks crackled around her clawed fist. Another ice barrier rose to protect him, but he was not her target. She pivoted and hurled a blast of fire at the one who had summoned the barrier. The woman, caught off guard, only just managed to throw herself free from the attack.

But the opening was all Impa needed. A bolt of energy flew her way and she dodged it with ease. With a mighty leap she was at the woman's side. The woman rose to her feet, but before she could react, Impa plunged a clawed hand clear through her chest. Impa then spun, holding the woman's body as a shield against any coming attacks.

To her dismay, Vesyrn was once again fleeing. Except now, four foes barred her path — more Sheikah he had turned. One had transformed to take the form of a great horned beast. Red magic crackled in the hands of another, and green and blue swirls danced around the two in the back. If the odds were bad before, she now faced certain death.

Mother Goddess, Impa whispered under her breath. Grant me strength. I cannot fail here.


Take heed, and listen: just as Hyrule will surely fall without your intervention, the fate of all life is at stake. Do not underestimate the enemy, for he is far greater than you may realize. You must stop him.

I regret that I cannot aide you directly. I can only bequeath to you what little power I have left. You must choose your champion, and you must guide them in this quest.

Do you choose Link? A courageous hero. Selfless, and determined. A young veteran, and a natural leader. He will slay a Warlord and turn the tide of battle without further bloodshed. With him as your champion, you need not fear even the darkest abyss. Even so, he is just one man…

Or would you choose Impa? A fierce Sheikah warrior. Powerful, and devoted. Her skills are wide and varied. She will recover the stolen fragments of the golden power: two of wisdom, and one of power. With her as your champion, the most powerful of foes will fall before you. Be that as it may; magic is a limited resource…

Or is Zelda your choice? An idealistic dreamer. Ingenious, and clever. The Crown Princess of Hyrule, and my own blood. With her magic, she will rally the defense and bring ruin to the enemy… but at great cost. With her as your champion, you will have the resources of a kingdom at your disposal. But she is no warrior…

Each of them would serve you well. I regret I have not the power for you to aid them all. And so, you must choose.

I pray you choose well.