by N Felts
yourself with,” he declares, selling the bluff well. A lengthy scowl is the only response he’d hoped for, Midna’s eyes betraying her growing dread. “Your only passageway into this realm, destroyed by your own hand. I fear it is I who should pity you, Imp.”
“Childish,” Midna breathes after a long sigh. “Run along and scheme your schemes. I’ll gladly watch your execution this time around,” she conveys, growing tired of the pointless banter. With an agitated quiver of his lip, Ganondorf turns to leave, satisfied with what he has learned. His mind shifting to his next move, he makes it no further than three steps before Midna’s frustration gets the better of her.
“The sages will remove that pathetic excuse for a heart this time! You will answer to all of the souls you’ve taken,” she concludes, staring at the Gerudo’s back with anticipation. Without another word, Ganondorf marches away from the stone, waving an arm to summon his personal guard back to his side. Satisfied with her message, Midna vanishes from view, though the connection to the twilight realm remains. Nimbly dashing across the sand, one of the naginata touting women trips over a buried object just beneath the surface, having to struggle to retain her footing. Surprised by such a highly trained warrior’s uncharacteristic clumsiness, Ganondorf returns to the mirror, a white object having caught the moonlight in his peripheral vision. Kneeling down and brushing the sand aside reveals a white mask. The sight initiates an instinctual reaction in his gut, and an image of the sage of water executing the killing stroke on that fateful day overwhelms his thoughts. Suddenly, his senses are overtaken by a magnificent orb of fire, the horizon ablaze as far as the eye can see. The intense heat and imminent danger serve to confuse more so than startle him, but his mind cannot make sense of the phenomenon, his instincts now dwarfing his reason. Regret gradually transforms into sensational anger, and the dark lord’s hand snaps shut like a bear trap, crushing the mask to pieces. Partially hidden beneath the shifting sand and tumbling bits of broken, mystical material, a blue medallion shimmers in the sparse light. Grasping the small, circular bit of metal, Ganondorf cannot seem to concentrate his thoughts into meaningful interpretations. Rising to his feet, a powerful gust of wind throws his new cloak off his back as he gazes at the six droplets of water encircling the center of the trinket. Deep in his soul, he doesn’t think the words so much as he feels them come over him.
“The sages… They must, all of them, die.”
Guiding Light:
Harbored Hopes and Father’s Friends
The dark night begins to release its grip on the horizon as Sheik and her disciples exit Kakariko Village, each of them embarking in a different direction. Sanzu, the most gifted of her students, moves west toward the dangerous desert. Boam, the heavy handed wielder of axes starts up the trail to Death Mountain where he has established a rapport with the local Goron tribe. Ashei, former member of the resistance makes for Castle Town where she has many contacts. Linu, a boy who makes up for his lack of stealth with a relentless persistence, heads south to the forest. His endless practice with a slingshot has earned him respect among the Kokiri. The princess circumvents the castle, moving north along Zora’s River to meet with a contact of her own. A massive gathering of intelligence is exactly what she needs in order to sort out the recurring visions of the dark silhouette, and now the all-consuming vortex. Ill omens to be sure, and with them comes no perspective of time. Hyrule could fall to ruin this very day, or generations from now. Regardless, she will utilize her recruits for their intended purpose, and they will be her eyes and ears in every corner of the kingdom in the days to come. As the sun peeks into the valley leading up Zora’s River, she decides to give up on her stealthy ensemble, opting to return to her royal dress for a more diplomatic appearance.
The bending, weaving path through the canyon north of the castle has an oddly mystical ambience. Throughout the ages, this river has connected Zora’s Domain to the castle without fail. Even the drought has failed to cease its flow, though the quantity of water has receded greatly. A twisting helix of rocky arches coated with moss soar and dip up the treacherous path. One misplaced step could end in disaster, the path constantly passing back and forth over the water. Suddenly, a purple creature with haunting, green eyes emerges from the shallow stream. Quickly lining up its target, the octopus-like water dweller fires a large rock through its short, canon-shaped spigot of a mouth. Dodging the attack with ease, the princess is more surprised by the octorok’s boldness than the actual attack. She has traversed this passage a hundred times, and the various sea creatures have always stood down in her presence. Another rock is spit at high velocity, but this time Zelda waves her arm in a circle creating a large, crystal shield which hovers before her. The rock collides with the magical barrier and immediately returns from whence it was fired, the shield reflecting the rock and promptly dispersing. The octorok is unable to react in time, the rock landing square on its forehead with a loud thud. Immediately regretting its decision to attack, the recoiling squid dives back into the water with a painful whimper. Considering why it would initiate a hopeless battle for a moment longer, the princess returns her thoughts to the path ahead, and more importantly, the conversation to follow.
The winding walkway finally draws to its conclusion before a mighty waterfall, the lofty trail simply looping at the end, and proceeding back out of the valley. Pausing before the falling water, Zelda expresses a relaxing sigh while listening to the tranquil sound of the Sleepless Falls. The generally tame wildlife near the castle grows increasingly hostile, and yet another premonition of dark days on the horizon invades her thoughts. Another magic invocation is spoken as her focus returns causing a brief whir of light to whip around her hand, leaving a simple harp in its wake. Memories, both fond and painful dance through her subconscious as she plays her childhood lullaby. The notes have been kept sacred through generations as credentials for connection to the royal family. The melody echo’s through the long cave before her, and the veil of water parts in the center allowing her passage into it. The consistent rumble of falling water is amplified and altered as she proceeds deeper into the dark tunnel, the morning sun casting quaking shadows through the aquatic curtain as it closes behind her.
The cavern expands drastically as Zelda steps into the familiar grotto of Zora’s Domain. Swirling structures of hollowed stalagmite stretch from ceiling to floor throughout the massive cave. The usually overflowing pools are a shadow of their former selves, though the glowing plant life beneath the water continues to feed on them and produce an oceanic ambience, projecting the lazy waves on the walls and ceiling. Rounding the store in order to reach the ramp leading up to the throne room, Zelda approaches a pair of Zora emerging from the water below. The sun is no friend of their race, their teal-colored skin considerably darker on their heads and backs. While they have a very humanoid build, their large fins hanging from their arms at the elbow, as well as the long, tail-like protrusion hanging from the back of their heads makes them very easily identifiable. The majority of the Zora race wears little to no clothing, save for the occasional accessory, as it would interfere with their ability to effectively swim. Passing by with a friendly smile, Zelda is greeted with a formal, yet casual bow from each of the men as they return from their hunt with a number of fish.
“A pleasure to see you princess,” one of them expresses, maintaining his bow respectfully.
“You grace us with your presence,” the other smiles, also only standing upright once she has greeted them.
“I’ve come to converse with your king,” Zelda nods, her natural charm quickly giving each of them comfort. “Still finding adequate game in your waters, I pray.”
“Yes, but I fear we’ll have to travel much further in the near future. Each day proves more difficult than the last,” the Zora holding the net of fish responds, his face stricken with frustration.
“Just as I’d feared,” she conveys, sympathizing with them. “But we must persevere. Th
e drought will pass and we will all be stronger from it.”
“I pray you are correct,” the other Zora sighs, bowing once more before they depart. The soothing sounds of flowing water massages Zelda’s tense heart as she proceeds up the large, curving ramp to the throne room. Far below her, the Zora people gradually emerge from their homes and conduct their daily routines. The long, stretching cones of stalactite seem purposely placed in the small passage to the throne, their random yet captivating spacing giving the room a sense of timelessness. A pair of narrow walkways reaches across each side of a long pool leading to the decorative throne of shells and limestone. King Zora rests with a hand to his forehead, the stress of the crisis afflicting the kingdom beginning to get the better of him. Approaching with a heartfelt smile, Zelda almost manages to startle him as she arrives.
“Zelda!” He exclaims, hopping from his throne to his feet. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
“I’m sorry, Ralis,” she giggles, sitting on the natural steps ascending up and around the throne. “I should have sent word. I’m not here in any