by N Felts
the fading light of early evening, the stone architecture of the elaborate courtyard seeming to shimmer in the growing moonlight. Regaining her senses, Zelda decides to slip away from the security of the castle grounds, reverting to her dark cloak to avoid attention.
Kakariko Village has endured many hardships, but it remains one of the few beacons of hope for the recovering people. Overrun with the ruthless Bulbins only months ago, the village has been restored to its simple kind of peace. Once the king of thieves had been slain, Link refused to rest before heroically driving the savages back to the Bridge of Eldin for good. The shoddy collection of houses seem surreal to the princess, resting on the uneven town levels. The flicker of candlelight dances in nearby windows as Zelda dips through the shadows, rounding corners and settling beside the old windmill overlooking the houses atop a small hill. A weak wind crawls through the mild night air, and the princess skates along the grass, silent as the wind itself, dropping into the deep well at the village’s center.
Her billowing cloak vanishes in a whirl of light, allowing her to land as soundlessly as a fresh leaf in a still pond. The bottom of the well is an unpleasant sight, the distorted brick walls and dirty paths leading outward in a maze of darkness. The haunting glow of moonlight radiates in the fine mist the grimy stones have produced. Already, she can sense a presence approaching, skillful and thorough as its stealthy antics may be. Quickly moving through the twisting halls, Zelda has returned to her masked alter ego of the extinct ninja clan. A dim glow surfaces upon turning a corner, a torch, freshly lit but barely burning. Below the mounted stick of flame, an inconspicuous wall, identical to every other in this unwelcoming setting. Pausing thoughtfully before entering the small amount of light, Sheik gazes at the uneven stones, their shadows growing and shrinking in the torchlight.
“Very good, Ashei,” she calls, her soft-spoken words echoing through the dark halls. “But your breathing gives you away. You must retain control of yourself before you can control your surroundings.”
“You sound just like her,” a woman sighs, emerging from the darkness. Wearing a similar blue jumpsuit with the Sheikah symbol upon the white chest, she displays masculine behaviors, proceeding toward the torch casually. Peeking from beneath her cowl, her dark blue bangs appear black in the low lighting. “I’ll get you next time, yeah?”
“You just might,” Zelda smiles, matching her stride and offering an assuring pat on the shoulder. The illusion of the solid brick wall is well known to them, and the two women pass through the mirage like a veil of weightless silk. The large room beyond the artifice is well lit, the circular training ground lined with blazing torches. An array of practice grounds litters the multistoried area including tests of balance, target ranges, swordplay dummies, and endurance challenges. High above the assorted facilities, an old woman meditates among a sea of candles. Her stout face seems to be concentrating intently beneath her massive ponytail of white hair. Stopping at the center of the room, Ashei watches with amusement as Sheik closes her eyes to concentrate.
“Linu is behind the gossip stone, Boam is above the door,” she announces, pausing to concentrate harder. “Sanzu is excelling, but I can feel you behind the scarecrow,” she points out with a smile.
“Feel me?” Sanzu asks unbelievingly, strolling out from behind the scarecrow. “I fail to take your meaning.” Slightly smaller than the other two women, Sanzu’s curious eyes are partially concealed behind her long, black bangs, dangling on each side of her cheeks all the way down to her chest.
“It’s the final level of stealth,” Sheik reveals, glancing up to the old woman. Remaining impossibly still, her full lips hint at a smile, but ultimately do not move. “It is your chi. The essence you emit into the universe. It is the most difficult aspect to conceal. The very essence of your existence will compromise your position if you cannot control your aura.”
“That’s intense,” Boam chuckles, dropping to the floor. Despite his large, muscular frame, his actions are surprisingly silent. Approaching the growing group, he glances at the scarecrow, impaled with a strait blade.
“Did I at least get my breathing right this time?” Linu asks, an immature whine failing to be removed from his voice.
“Close, but you’re trying too hard,” Sheik reveals, gesturing with her hands. “Remember, you are not inhaling and exhaling, you’re merely a vessel through which air may travel.” Nodding with understanding, the young boy brushes a hand through his short blonde hair nervously. Her disciples are improving, but even so she worries it is not quickly enough. The legendary Sheikah race has become little more than a memory. A fairy tale for imaginative children. The sworn protectors of the royal family have executed their duty without fail, but just as the royal family itself shrinks, so too has the Sheikah race. Nimbly ascending the room’s levels, Sheik lands before the old woman, bowing respectfully before beginning the dialogue. “I regret that my visit is not one of simple purpose, but I must seek your council.”
“You flatter me with formality my dear,” the woman laughs, pulled from her trance with little reservation. “Surely that young man has come around by now. Still resisting your charms is he?”
“I’m serious,” she sighs, blushing slightly. A glare over her shoulder promptly returns the gawking group below to their training. “The king of thieves has returned.”
“Impossible,” she states flatly.
“Is it?” She retorts, raising an eyebrow.
“I fear it must not be. I have felt a darkness weaving into the winds from the west. Will the damned Gerudo never learn?”
“I fear for the worst, Impa. He has shattered the Triforce once again,” she reveals, raising her hand to display the glowing triangle.
“This is an ill omen. This kingdom cannot withstand another blight of darkness,” she sighs, a tired expression stealing over her face.
“I know. I’m afraid their training thus far will have to suffice. I must employ every resource to ensure the tranquility of the realm.”
“They are not ready,” Impa mutters, shaking her head with disapproval.
“They are not Sheikah,” she promptly corrects. “But they are capable. Besides, they’re all we’ve got now.” A brief silence ensues, and Impa considers the information carefully before responding.
“The piercing ceremony must come first,” she insists, reflecting on the timeframe they have to work with. “It’s unsettling to think,” she pauses, briefly reflecting on her years. “I haven’t pierced an ear since your young hero proved himself worthy.”
“He wears it to this day,” Zelda nods with a fond smile.
“Alright,” Impa starts, obviously uncomfortable with the thought of sending such undisciplined pupils out into the world. “What do you have in mind?”
Hylian Hero:
A Peace that’s Seldom Lasting
An energetic Epona spiritedly nudges Link’s back as he dismounts in Ordon Village. More irritated than affectionate, he gives her a loving pat on the head just the same before proceeding to his house. The village is a modest example of southern life in Hyrule. The rolling hills serve well for ranching, the grassy earth surviving the drought thus far. Large packs of goats migrate through the fenced-in fields, grazing lazily. The houses utilize a cabin-style construction with thick patches of hay serving for roofing. Pulling open the door to his small shack, Link isn’t surprised to find Ilia waiting. The mayor’s daughter has grown into an attractive woman, though her short, dishwater-blonde hair and sleeveless shirt are a bit tomboyish. Friends for many years, Link grew up with Ilia after his heroic adventure through time itself. The master sword was returned from whence it came, and Link regained his lost childhood. Ganondorf’s thwarted usurping of the throne granted Link a second chance at life, his stolen childhood returned at the cost of the space now forced between himself and his love. The princess convinced him to distance himself from Castle Town. The royal family remains plagued by tradit
ion, even more so once the prophecy was fulfilled, and the daughter of a king cannot associate so with a commoner of any status. Kokiri Village was out of the question. Link is not one of them, and even after his lost fairy returned, he could not continue to live amongst the ageless children. Ordon Village was a growing nexus of agriculture and the mayor couldn’t have been happier to welcome another able bodied boy willing to earn his stay. It has been his home for many years since.
“You kept me waiting,” Ilia sighs, setting her knitting aside as Link strolls through the door.
“I think I’ll wait outside,” Navi awkwardly interjects, drifting toward the door.
“Park it fairy,” Ilia warns, her tone that of a wronged housewife. “I bet you put him up to it.”
“Hey, it had to be done. Heroes don’t get vacations,” Navi points out, floating near Link’s head.
“I can’t do this,” Ilia mumbles, shaking her head. “I can’t keep waiting for you. Never knowing if you’re even coming home.” A sad look steals over Link’s face, knowing she is right. He could be killed, or worse yet, sent through time once again. Ilia has wanted for nothing but a normal life, but her best friend has grown distant from her through his endless obligations. First, a missed
