The Legend of Zelda: Forgotten Goddess

by N Felts

as carefully as he’s able, Rift holds his throbbing arm, failing to fight the tears of pain away. Somewhere in the distance, past the aggressive plant life and over the buzzing insects, he’d swear he hears music. Another massive tree trunk leads him left, and the song increases in volume. Some sort of flute generating an upbeat melody, a song of dance and celebration. A song of innocence. Yet another hollow passageway of wood and moss, and Rift’s focus returns to reveal he is hopelessly lost. Even if he could summon the courage to return to Hyrule Field in the dark, he couldn’t find his way if he tried. The forest itself seems to spin around him, the chipper music starting to fade as he decides to go right at a small clearing with multiple exits. Suddenly, a large object strikes him, bouncing off his shoulder blade like a wayward fastball. Wincing in pain, he turns to find a deku scrub waddling toward him angrily. Generally known for their passive nature, the tiny, armless creatures shrouded in leaves have grown increasingly hostile as the drought begins to threaten the forest. Its large spout of a mouth retracts, and before Rift can react, another deku nut blasts at him as if fired from a cannon. Striking him in the stomach, the force knocks him off his feet for a breathless moment. Searching for a way out, he feels a rush of air whip past his head and realizes he is being fired upon from multiple directions. The scrubs prove every bit as relentless as the Stalchildren, emerging from seemingly everywhere. Shielding his face, Rift sprints deeper into the forest, stumbling when yet another nut collides with the back of his knee.

  Tripping forward, the boy has less than a second to collect the appropriate amount of dread as a massive gorge fills his vision. The cliff he is departing appeared no different than any other random span of forest, but his perception has betrayed him, certain now this fall will be his last. Flailing through the air, a dangling vine catches his leg, and utilizing his momentum it throws him past the shallow pools of water far below. Landing harshly on a loft of roots and earth, he feels as though he may faint, the excessive adrenaline too much for him to take. A haunting mist hangs over the gorge. Caressing the walls of roots and foliage, it masks the path ahead, reflecting the dim glow of the moon like a haunted pass. Giving the prospect very little thought, Rift decides to stay put until morning. Attempting to travel in the night has brought him nothing but pain and misfortune. Through the thinning mist along the wall of his loft, Rift spots a fairy bobbing along an uncertain path. The tiny creature of light moves steadily away from him, but he remains resolute, until yet another Wolfos howl creeps over his shoulders. The beasts are getting closer and closer every time he hears them. Unable to decide what he fears more, Rift scrambles to his feet to chase down the fairy. Rounding a corner along the wall of the colossal gorge, he catches a brief glimpse of the winged creature disappearing overhead. Trotting over to the wall of tangled roots, he realizes he can climb up with little difficulty. Never one for excessive physical activity, the events thus far have left him barely able to continue. Still, fairies are believed to be every bit as lucky as they are rare. He needs any amount of good fortune, however small it may prove to be.

  Pulling himself up and out of the gorge with quite a bit of effort, he again spots the fairy dancing through the air, vanishing behind a group of trees to the northeast. Jogging through the valley at a steady, but cautious pace, Rift occasionally loses his footing atop the weaving roots underfoot. The ground itself is nowhere to be found beneath the intricate tangle of branches and vines, holding strong beneath the fine mist pressed against them. The valley has many trees, but they are bunched up in small collections leaving the bulk of the area open for traversing. Growing worried, Rift has failed to spot the fairy for some time and realizes he must be moving too slowly to keep up. Circling another group of trees, his muscles collectively tense with fright to find a deku baba waiting. Its blue, salivating head rests on the ground motionlessly, and upon further inspection, Rift realizes it has been slain. Moving around the corpse as carefully as he would if it were still alive, he soon stumbles upon yet another leafy cadaver. The lofty valley becomes harder to traverse as the mist thickens at every turn, the boy’s way forward just as indiscernible as his progress to this point. Following the path of death tentatively, he spots the fairy once again in the distance.

  Veiled in the blue aura of the moonlit mist, a gargantuan temple of grey stone stands among the massive trees. Bitterly beaten by the hands of time, the structure looks as though it could collapse at any moment, the crafted slabs of stone and mighty pillars barely holding the structure upright. Bobbing up the steep staircase at the temple’s base, the fairy is barely perceptible through the dense fog. Delighted to find some degree of civilization, Rift advances forward, stopping short when his foot collides with something warm. A mighty Wolfos, cut down in its prime, rests atop the braid of roots forever. Its yellow eyes stare into space, void of the feral focus they once knew. His heart skipping a beat, Rift is forced to take a moment to find his breath as his panning vision spots yet another downed guardian of the forest. Suddenly unsure of who, or what he is following, the boy debates his best course of action for the moment, finally deciding to proceed much more carefully. Still, whatever it is he may find inside the temple, he is certain it can’t be as bad as the forest itself. Longing to be indoors once again, he climbs the dated stairs leading to the massive doorway of the structure.

  Finding no door, only a large archway, Rift apprehensively steps through, baffled when his senses are fundamentally restarted. Passing through some sort of invisible portal, he only realizes how incredibly noisy the forest was now that all sound has ceased. The large room is impossibly quiet, and the interior is equally pristine, the stone floor and walls appearing as if they are immune to decay. Afraid to make a move, Rift feels reassured when he catches a glimpse of a man wearing green proceed through a large doorway on the opposite end of the room. Considering calling out to him, he quickly changes his mind, fearful of both the man’s intentions and what else may hear him. Moving through the room as quietly as he’s able, Rift notices a strange pedestal standing in front of the door. Odd symbols are etched into the stone atop the long, rectangular stand. A disused display for some sort of religious artifact or treasured tribute. Proceeding up the short staircase, he finds the remains of what must have been thought to be an impassable door. Massive chunks of obliterated stone are scattered about the doorway, apparently blasted by some kind of weapon. Carefully stepping between the pieces of debris, Rift stops short when the spectacle within the next room grabs hold of his eyes. A series of torches line the walls of the tremendous room, each resting upon a pillar a short distance from the outer walls. Across the walkway leading between the pillars, hundreds of stairs climb high above the ground level leading to something just out of vision atop the plateau of stone.

  A monstrous man moves up the staircase at a steady stride, his long, golden trimmed, purple cape billowing with every step, and concealing his form completely. Shrouding his head is a relic of a helmet with four horn-like protrusions reaching upward from the top. The material is of unknown origin to Rift, a blend of dark colors coated in an array of symbols. Encircling his head, the helm reaches well down to his chest, ending with intricate designs. The upper-left portion of the helm seems to have been recently reconstructed, the section plagued with cracks and crevices. Unsure of where the man he saw moments ago has gone, Rift has no intention of getting the imposing warlord’s attention as he steps back into the shadow of the doorway. An accidental step lands on a piece of rubble, causing a scrape of shifting stone to echo through the silent room. Spinning on his heels with impossible speed, the man on the staircase throws his encompassing cape off his chest, the material sliding around his shoulders within the custom pauldrons and resting on his back. His dark armor does little to deny his probable sinister nature as he rests both hands on the blades sheathed on his thighs. Ready for a fight, the emotionless face carved into his helm triples the already ample intimidation he is generating.


  A series of sandals lightly striking stone sound as a small squad of assassins drop from their imperceptible hiding places high above. Obviously Gerudo, their dark skin and fiery, red hair are illuminated as they emerge from the shadows. Dressed in the traditional garb of the Gerudo women, their baggy, silk pants end in a jeweled belt just below the navel. An alluring brassiere matches the red texture of the pants as well as the scarf tied beneath their matching ponytails, concealing everything below their intense eyes. Two of the women brandish large scimitars, while the third skillfully twirls one of her chakra as they search for the source of the noise. Shaking in horror, Rift cannot summon the courage to move as the two subordinates close in on him while the chakra wielding leader waits near the base of the stairs. Descending upon the bad intentioned duo like a spider, an obscure figure suddenly whistles a three-note melody, pulling the attention of the women up to the dancing traces of light from the torches. Obfuscated by the