They knew the land was untouched from the moment they set eyes on it. The rich black soil, still unscathed by harrow, gave a certain spring in the step for the Sheikah band. Each of them was forced to pause, taking in the unsoiled beauty of the landscape. There they saw a willow tree with ivy climbing up the trunk. Elsewhere stood a field of cattails, waving lazily in the mid-summer breeze. Beyond the ridge? Well, only their wild imaginations could tell them, but they were certain that they would find wonders more captivating than anything else they had ever seen.

Menteith stood apart from his clan mates. He claimed that he was merely scouting ahead, but the truth of the matter was that he just wanted to be the first. It seemed like such an honor to him. The first to set foot on the untouched soil. The first to gaze upon the shimmering blue water. These days, it was getting more and more difficult to be the first to do anything in Hyrule. The undiscovered lands were slowly dissolving into memory as the Hylians spread. Menteith felt a sense of awe and sheer, unabashed pride, shivering down his spine like a chilly trickle of water.

He looked back over his shoulder at the others. Nuria was in the lead, of course, the sunlight glinting off of her sleek caramel colored hair. The others all followed a step behind her, gazing where she gazed. They didn’t seem to realize the wonder of this place as Menteith did. Yet, when his eyes fell into Nuria’s gaze, he could tell that she too felt the exhilaration.

“Menteith,” she called to him after awhile. “Come back down here.”

Reluctantly, Menteith slowly began to retrace his footsteps, occasionally glancing over his shoulder to keep up his façade as the group’s watchman. “Yes, Nuria?” he asked dutifully, pounding a fist to his chest, the typical Sheikah salute.

“Stay with us for awhile,” she told him in her pleasant, husky voice.

“As you wish.”

The group began to walk again. There were eight of them in total and each specimen was more pleasing to the eye than the last. Such was the way of the Sheikah back then. Each was at least six feet high, with light hair pulled back tightly. They all wore the Sheikah eye proudly over their hearts, as if to leave no question to any who saw them that they were the proud race that protected the royal line.

“What do you think of this spot, Nuria?” one of them asked as they crossed over a rocky plateau.

“The queen wants to build the castle on fertile ground,” Nuria replied. “There, she can plant her rose garden.”

“Rose garden?” scoffed another Sheikah from the pack. “The best place would be on the high ground. To better fend off attacks.”

“Attacks from whom?” Nuria asked skeptically.

“Anyone who sees opportunity.”

“And who do you suppose would be foolish enough to attack the royal castle?”

“The Gerudo have been restless lately. They say there’s been a prince born in their number.”

Nuria shook her head. “The Gerudo wouldn’t dare. Besides, the high ground isn’t easily accessible for foreign dignitaries. Don’t forget that the palace will be more than just a safe haven for the royal family. It will be the center of Hyrule’s political activity.”

Menteith smiled inwardly. He adored how logical Nuria could be. He had long ago pinned his hopes on her. Nuria was the women he would marry and while she was still reluctant to declare her fidelity to any one man, Menteith felt sure in his heart and soul that when the time came, she would choose him.

He was shook out of his reverie quickly, however. Nuria stopped the group and held up a hand, signaling for silence. Following her gaze, Menteith’s eyes fell on a pass in between two steep rock hills. “The castle could never fit in there,” he joked, “it’s far too narrow.”

Whether or not she thought this was particularly funny, Nuria offered him a good natured smile. “No, it’s not that.”

“What is it?”

“The walls of the pass. Look at them.”

Furrowing his brow, Menteith glanced at them, feeling the others all do the same behind his back. “Smooth,” he commented.

“Too smooth to be natural.”

“What do you suppose that means?”

Nuria licked her lips. “Perhaps this land isn’t as uninhabited as we suspected,” she decided at last.

“Who could possibly have carved that out?” asked one of the Sheikah from the rear.

“Must have taken hundreds,” another decided.

“What’s the purpose?” a third wondered.

“Well,” Nuria drawled slowly, “we don’t need to return to the base camp until the sun is beyond the highest point in the sky.”

“Do you want to investigate?” Menteith asked her.

After a moment, Nuria nodded. “Come; let’s see what these people, if they exist, are capable of.”

There was no argument. There never was, not once Nuria had made up her mind. The group traveled across the plain, passing fragrant fig trees and apple trees with dappled barks. Menteith felt a sense of disappointment. If Nuria was right, if this land was inhabited, it took something away from his earlier feeling of discovery. He was no longer a daring pioneer now. Merely a trespasser on what had already been seen by Hylian eyes.

As they neared the pass, they were even more impressed with the craftsmanship and more convinced of inhabitants. The walls were smooth as teak, climbing high up into the sky on either side and curving around into gentle grass slopes. The fact of the matter was that they weren’t going through a natural pass at all, but rather a highway carved directly through the middle of a hill.

“Industrious fellows aren’t they?” one of the scouts muttered.

“So it would seem,” Nuria replied tersely.

“Could they be Gerudo?”

Nuria shook her head. “The Gerudo could never have gotten themselves organized enough to accomplish this. The prides are too busy fighting amongst themselves.”

“I wouldn’t advise building the new royal castle so close to these people,” he said wearily. “Think of the weapons they could develop.”

“They may be friendly,” Menteith pointed out.

By this point they had arrived at the edge of the pass. Everyone looked to Nuria for instructions. She examined the floor of the pass for a moment. It was covered with ancient, withered leaves. They were mashed down, creating a dull and dreary colored carpet. As her eyes went up the pass, she saw the uniform stretch clear to the other end. A small frown etched across her face for a moment. She felt uneasy about the sight, though she couldn’t say just why.

“Nuria?” one of the scouts called.

“Hmmm…” she muttered.

“Should we cross?”

For a long moment, she considered her answer. Finally, half wearily, she nodded. “Let’s go.”

Once again, there was no argument. Nuria filed into the pass and the others followed behind her in single file. Menteith brought up the rear as he wanted to move a bit slower, examining the sleek walls surrounding him. On closer inspection, he realized they weren’t as smooth as he thought from a distance. High up, beyond a single person’s reach, he saw shapes engraved into the rock. He paused, squinting against the sunlight to identify what they were.

“Menteith?” one of them called.

Nuria glanced over at him. She held her hand up and everyone stopped, turning to look back at Menteith. “What is it?” Nuria asked.

“There are figures in the rock,” he said, pointing up. “I can’t quite make out what they are.”

In that instant, they were all glancing up at the side of the rock. “Is it a person?” one of them wondered.

“A person?”

“Look, a horizontal person.”

They all tilted their heads in unison. “I think it is.”

“What’s going through the middle of the torso?”

“I’m not sure.”

“It looks like –”

But whatever it looked like, that would be lost to the annals of time. Nuria took a step back and her heel hit against something under the leaves. Instantly, there was a loud whooshing noise, followed by a low groan. The ground trembled beneath them, causing most of them to lose their balance. All at once, the man directly in the middle of the pack let out a horrified scream as the leafy ground dropped out from under him. He disappeared from sight. Before any of them could react, the two on either side of him fell into the widening abyss beneath.

Full of panic, Menteith, stepped back. Two more of his friends fell. By this point, he realized what had happened. Somehow, Nuria had tripped an old trap. The ground was giving way beneath them and though he could not understand the mechanics of it, Menteith understood well enough the implications.

As two more fell, he heard agonized sounds of pain. He broke out into a full sprint, but he knew, even as he ran, that he could not outrun the vanishing ground beneath him. At once, he felt his heels digging into nothingness. As he dropped, he reached his hands out and his fall was suddenly stunted and he felt his arms wrench, straining against their joints. For a moment, his vision was blurry, but then, when he blinked away the clouds of fear, he realized that he had somehow managed to catch hold of a root growing out of the ground. Listening to the sound of his heart racing, he swung above the gaping cavern. When he had finally managed to catch his breath, he turned to look over his shoulder. At once, he wished he hadn’t.

Below, a wide chamber was exposed. The floor was covered in sharp wooden stakes, each nearly three feet high and ground to a fine point. Menteith saw that all of his friends lay motionless on the cavern floor, most of them impaled directly through the stomach by the deadly stakes. Menteith felt his own stomach give way and he vomited. Dead. They were all dead.

His arms were beginning to tire. Gritting his teeth he pulled himself up, hoisting his body back over the ledge of the newly formed gap in the pass. It was a simple climb and soon, he was once again on solid ground. There he lay for some time, gasping for breath and shuddering with dismay. Suddenly, he understood what the hieroglyphics on the wall had meant. They had been a warning. If only he had realized sooner! Then they might still be alive…

Slowly, Menteith pushed himself up. As he looked back along the wide expanse of ground they had crossed, he came to the startling realizing that he wasn’t entirely sure which was the path back to camp. The navigator was dead and all the maps lay at the bottom of the deadly pit. Choking back tears, he started trudging back past the cattails and willow trees. It was too late, without his friends, he was lost.



Impa sat up with a sharp inhale. For a moment, the tent seemed to spin around her, but she quickly caught her bearings, taking several deep breaths to calm herself. Her heart was racing, but for the life of her, she couldn’t understand why. She felt something, something peculiar, in the pit of her stomach. Absently, she glanced over to her side. Glas was laying there, his hands resting on his chest. She could tell that he wasn’t asleep, though he kept his eyes closed.

“What’s the matter?” he asked drowsily, confirming her suspicions.

“I don’t know,” she replied.

“Then lie down again.”

“I can’t.”

Glas opened his bright red eyes, looking up at Impa. He tended to lack the steely gaze typical of a Sheikah. Instead, whenever he looked at anyone, it seemed like he was soft. Of course, Impa knew better. Glas had a stronger stomach than almost anyone else in the world. Still, when she looked into his eyes, she couldn’t help but wonder at them. “Lie down,” he told her gently, reaching out a hand to stroke her arm lovingly.

“Something doesn’t feel right.”

“Impa,” he scolded her gently.

Sighing loudly, Impa gave in and lay down beside Glas, staring up at the canvas above them. “Do you think the others will be back soon?” she asked after a moment, running her fingers along the stitching of her quilt.

“They’ll be back on time, as they were ordered,” Glas assured her, leaning forward to kiss her shoulder.

“I have such a sense of foreboding. I can’t explain it.”

“You always expect the worst,” he told her.

“That’s what makes me good at my job.”

“I know,” he replied, kissing the back of her neck.

“I can’t do this.” Impa tried to sit up, but Glas pulled her back down. “Glas!” she yelped indignantly.

“Calm down, Impa,” he told her.

Rolling her eyes in frustration, Impa relaxed, pressing her back against Glas’ bare chest. “I’m sorry,” she murmured gently after a moment.

“You’re on edge.”

“It’s not your fault. It’s just the stress of –”

“Your first assignment,” he finished for her.

“I’ve never been in charge of other people before.”

“You’re doing a fine job.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Impa ran her fingers up and down his arm absently, staring at the side of the tent. “I just wish I didn’t feel so sick.”

“Sick?”

“I feel like I’m about to lose my lunch. And I haven’t even eaten my breakfast yet.”

“Breakfast in bed? Sounds nice.”

Playfully, she smacked his arm. “I’m serious, Glas.”

“So I am. What would you like? I can probably go out and catch a wild chicken for you.”

“You couldn’t catch a cold,” she retorted.

“Granted.”

“Besides,” she sighed, “I can’t eat. I’m sick.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m a healer,” he said, sitting up. Brushing some hair away from her face, he leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Well,” he said, sitting up again, “You’re not running a fever.”

“I could have told you that.”

“True, but I make it sound professional. Let me check your glands.” Again, he leaned over, planting a series of small kisses down her neck and shoulder, first on the right side, then on the left. Impa laughed, her entire frame shaking. “Well, everything looks all right there,” Glas declared.

“I told you, it’s just my stomach. I feel nauseous.”

“Yes,” he muttered, lying down beside her again. “Well, I don’t blame you. Kaya’s cooking leaves something to be desired.”

“That is very true,” she snickered. Eventually, her smile faded. “I can’t keep from thinking that something is wrong.”

“With you?”

“With everything, Glas. This place just feels…ominous.”

“Ominous?”

She shrugged. “I’ve been having the most awful dreams about this place. Nightmares.”

“And what happens in them?”

“I don’t know exactly. I’m not very good at interpreting these sorts of things. You know that.”

“Frankly, I don’t put much stock in dreams. I don’t think there is anything to interpret.”

“That goes against a thousand years of Sheikah lore.”

“I suppose it does,” Glas sighed.

“Your grandmother would be horrified.”

“Well, I’ve already done enough damage there. I think she was ready to disown me when I decided I wanted to become a healer instead of a warrior.”

“It’s not exactly conventional.”

“I don’t like convention,” he answered.

“You don’t like convention, you don’t like fighting, you don’t like dreams. What kind of Sheikah are you? Do you like anything remotely Sheikah?”

“Well, there is one thing.”

Impa arched an eyebrow. “What?”

“I like you.”

She laughed at this. “Well, thank you very much.”

“You’re very welcome.”

Impa sat up, wrapping the quilt around her chest. She rose from the bed, crossing over to the other side of the tent where her clothing lay in a rumpled pile. Glas sat up as well, leaning on his elbow to watch her. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“Leering like that.”

“This isn’t leering. This is leering.” He scrunched up his face, leaning forward to stare at Impa.

Again, she laughed. “I stand corrected.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m getting dressed.”

“You’re going to do something foolish, aren’t you?”

“Of course not.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to take Kaya out to do some scouting.”

“You already have a team scouting.”

“I’m anxious,” she said. “I can’t just sit around. I need to do something.”



Leafa had a secret. The secret was one she kept close to her heart, not out of fear or embarrassment, but rather for the sake of having a special secret. Her secret was that she loved calling meetings. True, it was in her right as leader of the clan to do so whenever she wished, but that wasn’t why she enjoyed them so much. The real reason she loved calling meetings was because it meant going into the meeting hut.

Most of the time, it stood vacant; a lonely little hovel off to the far edge of the village. At night, as the sun would set, Leafa would stare at the dark silhouette of the building: As the sky changed from yellow to orange to dark blue, the hut remained unchanged. It was the greatest accomplishment of the village to date. By far the biggest structure they had, it could fit every adult in the village, seated comfortably around a wide, gaping fire pit in the middle of the room. From the pit rose curls of bluish smoke, smelling vaguely of rosemary and sage. Leafa would sit in her wicker throne, watching as the fingers of fog licked the faces of the citizens, each smiling absently at her, enjoying the richness of the smooth aroma.

Unfortunately, today’s meeting was far from smooth. They had serious matters to discuss, not festivities to plan or initiation rites to witness. Leafa scowled, tapping her knuckles absently on the armrest of her chair. As her sharp green eyes swept over the faces of those around her, she could tell they sensed her tension. And there was plenty reason to be upset.

“Peace and long life,” she finally said, raising her hands in the customary salute of the clan.

“Peace and long life,” the people echoed, returning the gesture. It dated back from the ancient times, when the people used to believe that their leader was semi-divine. Of course, they had long ago abandoned the notion, but the gesture still remained for the sake of tradition.

“We are troubled today,” Leafa announced, “troubled by the appearance of strangers in our midst.” She turned to gesture absently to her champion, Tully, who stepped forward.

“One of our traps was sprung this morning,” he said in his deep, rich baritone. “Several strange creatures have been put to rest by the stakes.”

“Strange creatures?” someone from the crowd wondered quizzically.

As the others began to mutter nervously, Leafa glanced out to identify who had spoken. “Yes, Robia,” she said.

“What do you mean by ‘strange creaturs,’ Tully?” Robia asked.

Tully cleared his throat, stealing a quick glance at Robia before he proceeded to explain. “They are unlike our kind,” he told them. “Their eyes are scarlet as blood and they stand high as giants, twenty stones or more. Their ears point like those of a bat. On their faces, they wear war paint and on their chests, a symbol. Of what, I can only guess.”

Unrest immediately settled over the gathering. The villagers looked at each other, frightened and amazed. Leafa leaned back in her chair, bridging her fingertips in front of her eyes for a moment. When she finally spoke, it was with the customary calmness that had made her a beloved leader for five years now. “Tully, what do you think was their purpose in our land?”

He shook his head. “I cannot say, Basileaus.”

Leafa sighed inwardly. She hated it when Tully referred to her by her proper title. He certainly never used it when they were alone together, why did he have to use it in public all the time? Well, that was no matter. Not right now. “The odds are that there will be more,” she declared, although she certainly had no idea if that was really true or not.

“What are your orders?” Tully asked.

“Should any of you encounter the strangers, do not make contact or engage them,” she said. “Should you see them, run back to the village immediately and inform me at once.”

“Do you think they’re hostile?” a villager spoke out.

“I cannot say,” Leafa replied.

“They were armed, Basileaus,” Tully put in softly.

“That may be,” Leafa addressed him. “But carrying a weapon does not necessarily indicate hostility. Our people carry weapons too.”

“Of course.”

“Until we know what they mean to us, however, I want to keep my people safe within the confines of the village. You have your instructions.” Her eyes scanned the room briefly, taking a quick count of all the faces, staring anxiously up at her. Finally, with a small sigh, she held up her hands again. “Peace and long life.”

“Peace and long life,” they chorused back to her.

With that, the meeting was over. Low murmurs began to emerge as the people filed out of the hut in small, family groups, all of them wondering about the meaning of the strangers. “Robia,” Leafa called.

“Yes, Basileaus?” Robia’s voice replied, although Leafa could not see her within the dense crowd.

“Come here,” she said.

There was some shuffling near the door. After a moment, a small woman emerged from the throng. Robia was a pretty girl, close to becoming eligible for marriage. It was whispered that many men desired her, none more than Darius, a man who had already outlived three wives. She had a slender, nymph-like build, not customary to the clan. Her hair was coal black, chopped with a severe edge hovering over her shoulders. She gazed at the world through wide, cobalt blue eyes that always seemed to be filled with a sense of hidden wonder. Most beautiful, however, was her flawless skin, stretched tight over high cheekbones that were high enough to be beautiful, but not so high as to appear stern.

Gracefully, Robia raised her hands in salute. “Yes, Basileaus?” she asked again as the hut slowly emptied, leaving behind three: Basileaus, champion, and beautiful village girl.

“Robia, where is your father?” Leafa questioned her. Her voice was firm, but certainly not unkind.

Tully, however, was another matter. “Sojef has disappeared again?” he mumbled irritably.

“No!” Robia cried, “Not disappeared!”

“Calm yourself,” Leafa assured her, “I’ve made no accusation.”

“I’m sorry.”

“However, I would like to know where he is.”

The girl sighed, playing absently with the necklace of polished white stones she wore around her neck. “He left the house early this morning,” she explained, “before I woke up.”

“Did he leave any indication of where he was going?”

Robia shook her head. “No.”

“And he must have been so far away that he didn’t see the smoke,” Leafa sighed, running a hand through her rust colored curls.

“Yes.”

“Well, I don’t like the fact that he’s run off again,” Leafa muttered, throwing a casual glance at Tully. “Still, he could very well have decided to go fishing near the northern ridge.”

“I’m sure that’s where he went,” Robia said, though all three could tell that she didn’t really believe it.
“Go,” Leafa said finally, pointing to the door. “Find your father and bring him back to the village. Warn him of the dangers out there and tell him of the decree I have made regarding the strangers.”

“Yes, Basileaus,” Robia answered, holding up her hands in salute.

“Peace and long life, Robia.”

“Peace and long life,” she repeated, backing slowly out of the hut. When she reached the entrance, she turned around and hurried out, vanishing behind the deer hide that swung back in place, blocking the outside world.

“Peace and long life!” Tully called after her.

Leafa threw a bemused glance at Tully. “You like her,” she commented with only the slightest twinge of jealousy.

“Where do you suppose he’s really gone?” Tully asked quickly, making his best attempt to brush off Leafa’s observation.

She sighed inwardly. That meant it was true. “I strongly suspect he’s heard about the appearance of the strangers,” Leafa said absently.

“Do you think he’s sought them out?”

“No. Sojef isn’t that foolish.”

“He’s grown senile in his old age,” Tully muttered.

“I don’t think so,” Leafa replied. “And I know the villagers don’t see him as a mad man. Just odd. Eccentric.”

“Eccentric can be dangerous, Leafa.”

“Sojef is harmless.

“Then why did you send Robia after him?”

Leafa was unable to answer that question. Instead, she stared straight forward, watching the final plumes of smoke dissipate in the shafts of sunlight, spilling into the hut from around the hide doorway. “What do you think the appearance of these strange creatures means?” she wondered aloud.

“Perhaps it will be a great opportunity for us.”

“Or perhaps it will change our way of life.”



From the left hand side of the hill trap, one could see almost the entire prairie. It stretched out for miles and miles, everything swaying to the wind in unison, nature’s great choreography. For the moment though, that wasn’t nearly as interested as what lay in the pass. Sojef crouched precariously on the precipice, peering down into the trap, at the motionless forms lying on the cavern floor. In all his days - and they were starting to be many - Sojef had never seen creatures like this. They seemed so delicate, yet much longer and wider than his people. Perhaps it was because of their curious ears. Sojef had never seen a person with bat ears before.

He had been crouching there for hours, just staring down at the lifeless forms. He supposed his fascination was slightly morbid, but still, this might well be his only opportunity to see them. They were so beautiful and so strange. A pity they were dead. Sojef would have liked very much to have had the opportunity to speak with them.

Sighing, he ran a hand through his salt and pepper hair. He wore it cropped closely to his head these days, but in time gone by, in his hunter days, he allowed it to grow and grow, so long that it would dance in the breeze and become tangled in the branches of the willow when he happened to pass underneath it. With age, came the realization that he could no longer maintain it, so at the first sign of gray, he chopped it all off. Now, his hair was a veritable pallet of black, white, and shades of gray and his face had begun to resemble worn leather. Not that he minded. There was great respectability that came with age, even if some of the villagers still considered him to be eccentric.

There was a low moan from beneath. Sojef started, nearly falling backwards down the sloping hill. He regained his balance and peered into the pit. There it was again! He clearly heard someone moaning in a great deal of pain. Was one of them alive down there? His heart raced. Blinking a few times in a vain attempt to clear his worsening vision, he scanned the line of bodies, trying to determine which of them had made the sound. There! That one, on the far end. Clearly now, Sojef could see one of the females breathing raggedly.

He swung his weight, about to repel down the side of the cliff when he heard something else. Voices, coming from the right hand side of the hill. “Do you think they’d really scout a hill for the palace?” one of the voices asked, clearly in a feminine tone.

“No,” the second voice, also female, replied.

“Then why are we climbing up this hill?”

“To get better vantage.”

“Must you always be so logical?”

“Yes.”

Sojef slowly crept back, shielding himself behind a bright green shrub with leaves like velvet. From there, he watched as two figures emerged opposite the pass. “Well, it’s quite annoying,” the first voice said as her body appeared. She was clearly one and the same with the creatures below, sporting long pointed ears and the same scarlet eyes. Her hair was pale red, pulled back by a ribbon near the base of her neck. Like the others, she sported the mysterious symbol on her chest.

“You annoy too easily,” the second voice said, also coming into view. She nearly took Sojef’s breath away. Never, in his whole life, had he seen a creature as beautiful and statuesque as this. She was a bit taller than her companion, with pale white hair pulled back tightly. Underneath each of her eyes was a streak of white war paint. Like all the others, she wore the symbol up on her breastbone, but her clothing was scant, proudly featuring her well defined muscles.

“Nothing annoys you, Impa,” the red haired one said.

“That’s not true,” Impa replied.

“What does annoy you then?”

“You annoy me.” Impa was smiling slightly, leading Sojef to believe that she was clearly teasing her companion.

The companion seemed to understand this as well. “We all have our purposes in life,” she answered. “Personally, I think yours is to –”

“Kaya,” Impa cut her off.

“What?”

Impa was standing on the edge of the cliff. As she looked down, she too saw the lifeless forms of the creatures below. “Sweet Nayru…”

Kaya followed her gaze and slowly raised a hand to her mouth. “By the Triforce,” she breathed.

“A trap,” Impa muttered, glancing around now to see if there were any other traps to be concerned about.

“They didn’t have a chance,” Kaya said, angrily balling up her hands into two tight fists.

“They’re not all down there,” Impa sighed.

“Who’s missing?”

The pained moan came from the bottom of the pit again. Instantly, both women turned to look down. “Someone’s still alive down there.”

“We’d better go help them.”

“Agreed.”

With that, much to Sojef’s amazement, both women turned and jumped directly into the pit. He thought for certain, as he watched, that they would be impaled by the stakes below, but as they plunged closer, he saw the one called Impa remove a rope from her pack. Effortlessly, she swung it forward, catching it on a tree root. She reached out and grabbed Kaya’s hand, just as the rope went taut, a yard or so above the tips of the stakes.

Carefully, Impa lowered Kaya down to her feet, directly in between a few of the stakes. Kaya then turned around, cutting a few of the stakes away with a knife from her belt. Impa dropped down into the vacant space, landing in a crouch and standing quickly. “Sheikah!” Kaya hissed, turning around in a full circle.

There was another groan from the end of the pit. Together, Impa and Kaya clambered over the lifeless bodies around them, following the sound. “Nuria,” Impa said sadly as they identified the one in pain.

Nuria lay on the floor of the pit. Her breathing was labored and ragged, occasionally accompanied by a spray of blood. When she fell into the pit, her side had been impaled, the stake just missing her left hip bone. As the two other women converged on her, she groaned, turning her head to one side and letting a trickle of blood fall from the corner of her mouth.

“Don’t move,” Kaya cried urgently.

Impa knelt beside Nuria, scanning her wounds. “Can you feel your legs?” she questioned, jabbing at one of them carefully.

“No,” Nuria moaned.

“What happened?” Kaya asked.

“Don’t know,” Nuria replied weakly. “We were exploring the pass. Thought we saw signs of inhabitants.”

“Inhabitants? Here?”

“Yes,” Nuria wheezed. “Something was triggered. Everyone fell in except Menteith.”

“Where’s Menteith?” Impa asked sternly.

“Don’t know…thought he went back for help.”

“We’ve seen no sign of him,” Kaya explained.

“When your team didn’t come back, we set out ourselves to try and find you,” Impa said.

“Probably lost,” Nuria sighed painfully. “No sense of direction.”

“We’ll find Menteith, but we need to get you back to camp.”

“I can’t move,” Nuria told her.

“I’ll take you,” Impa replied. She put her hands on Nuria’s shoulders, but glanced up at Kaya. “Follow us back to camp.”

“I will,” Kaya said with a nod.

Impa closed her eyes. Her lips began working rapidly, although Sojef could not hear what she was saying. Suddenly, a bright flash of light erupted from the eye-like symbol on her chest. The light turned green and flowed down Impa’s limbs, turning her whole body into a glowing form. It passed on, consuming Nuria as well. There was a rustle of wind and in a flash the two of them vanished from sight.

Sojef’s eyes widened in shock. He leaned forward, trying to see where they had gone and lost his balance. With a primal shriek, he fell over; hurtling down, head first, into the cavern below. Kaya looked up sharply at the sound. Instantly, she shot her hand out toward the rope, still dangling from the root in the ground. It telekinetically jumped to life, snapping into her hand. She jumped up, kicking off the ground, and swung over the stakes, catching Sojef in the middle with her left arm.

The weight was too much for the rope. It groaned as the root gave way. Kaya had just enough time to swing them back over the place where she had cut away the stakes. They dropped into a heap on the ground. Sojef let out a might scream and fell unconscious on top of Kaya.

“Great,” she muttered, squirming out from under him with surprising difficulty. As she got to her feet, she realized that his leg had been caught by the tip of one of the stakes. Fresh blood was drizzling down his calf. “Just great.”

With tender care, she pulled his leg away from the stake. It was then that she turned to look at him. She had never seen a creature quite like him before. He looked very much like a Hylian really, but his ears were rounded, his skin a bit more tan and coarse than was customary for a Hylian. Curiously, she pried one of his eyes open. Not blue. No, he definitely wasn’t a Hylian.

She paused to consider her options. She could leave him here to wake and find his own way home, where ever that was, or she could bring him back to camp. Curiously, she reached out and touched her finger to the tip of one of the stakes. Sticking out her tongue, she lightly dabbed her finger to it and made a face. The stakes were tipped with some sort of toxin, though she wasn’t sure what kind. After spitting, she knelt down beside Sojef and put her hands on his shoulders. With a gush of Farore’s Wind, the two of them vanished.



When he first opened his eyes, his vision was so hazy, that he was certain he was underwater. As his eyes rolled back into their sockets, he lost consciousness again. A little while later, no way of knowing how long, he opened them for a second time. This time he could see a bit more clearly, though the colors before him swam somewhat. Sojef realized that he was lying on his back, staring up at a brightly colored tent.

With a groan, he turned his head to one side. Several yards away, he saw a few figures. At once, he recognized the woman known as Impa. She was standing over a small cot, on which was lying the woman they had rescued from the hill trap. Nuria, was it? There was a third figure with them as well, a man Sojef hadn’t seen before. Like all the others, he was tall and brawny, sporting the alien symbol and the bright red eyes. He knelt beside the cot, pulling bloody bandages away from Nuria’s body, a mousy brown ponytail falling over his shoulder.

“When will she regain consciousness?” Impa asked urgently in her sultry, deep voice.

“I can’t say,” the man replied, never once removing his eyes from the work at hand. “I should tell you, however, that there’s a chance she won’t at all.”

“What do you mean?” Impa spat fiercely.

“There was hemlock in the wound. She was exposed to it for far too long. There’s nothing more I can do. And even if I could remove the hemlock, the gangrene will kick in soon. She was just there for too long.”

Impa’s face tightened. “Make her comfortable, Glas.”

“I will.”

A tent flap opened and Kaya ducked in. “I can’t find the telepathy stones anywhere,” she said in exasperation.

“Why were you looking for the telepathy stones?” Impa asked sharply.

“To contact Yonah and tell her what happened.”

“That is my responsibility,” Impa growled.

“All right, all right,” Kaya said, holding up her hands.

Sojef blinked in surprise. The girl called Kaya was saluting Impa in the same way his people greeted the Basileaus. Careful not to draw attention to himself, he watched them carefully. He remembered now. He had fallen from the cliff after seeing…it wasn’t possible, was it? As he searched his memory, he knew now, very clearly, why he had been so surprised. He had seen a miracle happen. This stranger called Impa had made herself and Nuria disappear in that green light. But such things were impossible! Weren’t they? Then again, how else could he possibly have found himself here in this tent?

“It’s an interesting patient you’ve brought me,” Glas said. Immediately, Sojef shut his eyes and not a moment too soon. All three of the Sheikahs turned to look in his direction. “I’ve never seen anything like him.”

“Nor have I,” Impa said darkly.

“What do you suppose he is?” Glas wondered.

“I haven’t the slightest idea,” Kaya answered.

“Impa?”

There was a long moment of silence. “I’ve heard stories,” she said slowly. “Rumors really.”

“Rumors about what?”

“About a nomadic people. I don’t remember what they’re called. It was a long time ago.”

“Clearly, those rumors have proved true.”

“Clearly,” Impa repeated dryly.

“What do we do with him?” Glas asked.

“Heal him,” Impa declared without pause. “Then I’ll send him back to where he belongs. No sense in getting involved any more than we have to. His society needs to develop as it develops, without our influence.”

“Are you sure?” Kaya muttered. “He looks funny. I’d like to talk to him.”

“No,” Impa snapped.

“Okay, okay, sorry.”

“If we don’t want to make contact, I should give him a dose of ether,” Glas said. “Just to keep him asleep.”

“What are we going to do?” Kaya asked hesitantly.

“Menteith,” Impa answered. “We have to find him and bring him back.”

“Where do you suppose he’s run off to?”

“I haven’t the faintest notion.”

“We’ll find him,” Glas said, his voice much closer to Sojef than before, accompanied by the clinking of glass. “And perhaps find a better place to build the castle.”

A surge of disappointment filled Sojef’s chest as he sensed Glas nearing him. No! He wanted to hear more. Before he could decide what to do, however, he felt a cloth press against his mouth and nose. As he breathed, a sickeningly sweet aroma filled his lungs and suddenly, it seemed like all the strength in his sinews was undone. For a moment, he felt as if he were falling and then, there was nothingness.

“I’m going to go get the corpses,” Kaya said after a moment, as she watched consciousness slip away from Sojef. “They deserve proper burial.”

“Go,” Impa sighed.

Kaya nodded. With a spin, she flounced out of the tent, the flap swinging shut behind her. Impa sank down onto a crate, burying her head in her hands. “This was a scouting mission to find a place to build the new castle,” she whispered. “No one was supposed to die.”

Glas put a hand on Impa’s shoulder. “The life of a Sheikah is always dangerous. And usually short.”

Impa looked up at him. “My first mission. I was in charge. Me. And now my people are dead. Under my watch.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Impa.”

“Wasn’t it?”

“No.”

“I’m the one who sent them to scout the prairie.”

Glas sat down beside her. “What happened was an accident. Wallowing isn’t going to change that fact. We have to honor them for their lives. They died in service of the royal family.”

“They died senselessly.”

“Is there really any sense in death?”

“I really hate you sometimes.”

“And why is that?”

“You’re too philosophical for your own good.”

Glas laughed. “For my own good?”

“All right. For me.”

He smiled, snaking an arm around her waist. “No one will blame you for what happened, Impa,” he promised tenderly.

“You can’t speak for the dead.”

“Neither can you.”

“If I can’t protect my own regimen, how can I be expected to serve the royal family when the time comes?”

“I have faith in you. Besides, you’re only seventeen. You won’t be serving them directly for a long time. There’s plenty of time to learn.” He kissed her shoulder.

Impa sighed softly. “Glas…”

“Think of it this way. You may have suffered some casualties, but you’ve discovered an entirely new species.”

“Or they’ve discovered us.”

“Details.”

She glanced across the room at the sleeping Sojef. “Do you suppose his people were responsible for the trap?”

He shrugged. “It’s possible, I suppose.”

Slowly, Impa stood up. She suddenly seemed transfixed by Sojef. After a moment, she took a step in his direction. Quickly, Glas reached out and latched onto her arm, pulling her back. “Hey!”

“That’s not what we’re about, Impa,” he told her sternly. “That’s not why we’re here.”

“But if his people –”

“One man cannot take punishment for an entire people. And if his people did set the trap, which we don’t know for certain, it’s a fair guess that they didn’t set it for us. It was probably to keep animals or Gerudos out of their homestead.”

Sighing, Impa sank down to her seat again. “You’re right.”

“Of course, I’m right,” Glas replied with a shrug. “I’m always right.”

“I’ll never make full warrior status now, though. Not after this.”

“Don’t say that.” He snaked an arm around her waist once more and began kissing her shoulder.

“Glas.”

“What?”

“Stop.”

“Why?”

“What if Kaya comes back.”

“Let her get her own Impa. You’re mine.”

Impa found herself laughing in spite of herself. “You are incorrigible.”

“I know. That’s why you love me so much.”

“Do I?”

“Well, I certainly love you.”

“I suppose I love you too.”

“Oh? You suppose?”

“Yeah. Sometimes I forget.”

“Well, I’ll have to remind you then.” Glas reached into his supply kit and pulled out a small length of twine.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to tie a string around your finger so you don’t forget. Hold out your hand.”

Laughing indulgently, Impa offered Glas her hand. With an impish grin, Glas tied the string around her ring finger, finishing it off in a bow. Impa looked down at her hand. “Glas?”

“Yes?”

“That’s a very specific finger.”

He glanced casually down at her hand. “So it is.”

“Is it supposed to be?”

“It is. Will you marry me?”

“Yes.”



As much as she enjoyed the ritual of the meeting, there was a ritual that Leafa truly disliked, one she was forced to perform every night: Sealing the village. It was getting late now and once again, she sat under her tree, watching with a sense of disappointment as Tully began to approach to announce that the time had come. Of all the duties of the Basileaus, this was the most tedious, and she had to perform it every night.

Leafa stood up, brushing the dust off of her chiton. A few generations back, the villagers had discovered a fantastic plant that created a rich, purple dye. They used it on all the Basileaus’ clothing now, adorning the robes with gold lining and baubles. Leafa’s wardrobe was astonishing, although she secretly wished she could wear green instead of purple. When her father had been Basileaus, she used to wear a pastel green sarong almost all the time, running barefoot across the prairie with her companions. Her father was gone now, and with him, that fantastic sense of freedom she once held close when she wore green.

“The sun sets,” Tully told her gently. He knew perfectly well how much Leafa hated the routine.

“It always does,” she replied with a wry smile.

“Yes, it has that annoying habit, doesn’t it?” he quipped, returning the smile. “Perhaps some day we’ll figure out how to make the world turn backwards.” Leafa absolutely loved it when Tully smiled. Sadly, he would never do it when they were in public. Only in the private moments they shared together, would she see the way his face could truly light up.

“Go ring the bell. I’ll start the tour.”

“Yes, Leafa,” he replied. At once, he turned around and walked away, heading to the bell tower.

Leafa watched him go for a moment. With a sigh, she turned around and headed in the opposite direction, to the village gate. As she passed the villagers, they regarded her with the customary divine salute. She really wished they’d leave that nonsense behind. Clearly, she was a mortal woman, born in the same sweat and pain as any other mortal. Traditions were just traditions.

The bell sounded. “Basileaus!”

Quickly, Leafa turned her attention to the field. There, she saw Robia racing across the grass, her eyes wide as always. “Come in, Robia,” she called. “I’m about to close the gate.”

Robia raced through the fence, saluting Leafa as she approached. “Basileaus, I couldn’t find him.”

“What?”

“I couldn’t find my father!”

A crowd began to assemble. As they realized the cause of the commotion, the customary mutters began to arise. “Sojef again?”

“What’s he gotten himself into this time?”

“We have to close the village! Where is he?”

With a gesture of her hand, Leafa silenced them. “How far did you go, Robia?” she asked.

“All the way to the water and back,” Robia replied.

“Did you try going to the trap?”

“You told us not to go there.”

Leafa was about to respond when she heard a shriek. On instinct, she looked out the village gate. Many yards away, near the opening to the trap, she saw a bright burst of green light slowly begin to fade. “What was that?” she whispered, more to herself than to the villagers.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Robia breathed.

They heard a sudden shout. “Look!” a villager cried, pointing in the direction of the trap.

Leafa strained her eyes for a moment. Soon, it became clear what the villager saw. Getting closer, she saw the figure of a person running, positively sprinting, headed to the village. Slowly, she moved to the gate, the others all following behind her, each individually catching sight of the figure.

“It’s one of the strangers!” a villager shouted in horror.

“It’s a bear,” another said dismissively.

“It’s Sojef,” Leafa said quietly. It was clear to her now. She knew that sturdy gait well enough.

“Papa!” Robia cried. She surged forward, dashing out of the gate and meeting her father a few yards later. Moaning, she threw her arms around him and he lifted her off the ground, giving her a strong embrace.

“Daughter!” he said happily. “What tales I have to tell you. What wonders I have seen!”

“You may tell tales inside of the gate,” Leafa called to him. “The sun is setting. You know what that means.”

“Yes, of course!” Sojef set Robia down. Together, hand in hand, the two of them returned through the gate. As they stepped off to one side, the villagers crowded around them curiously. Leafa, meanwhile, started locking the gate.

“Where have you been?” Robia demanded.

“I cannot say for certain,” Sojef responded.

“What do you mean, papa?”

“I have been where no mortal has gone before.”

“Where?”

“To the gods!”

“What?” an old woman sniffed incredulously.

“Believe me, my friend,” Sojef said, walking to her and putting a hand on her shoulder, “I have traveled to the home of the gods.”

“Where were you, Sojef?” Leafa asked quietly.

“I started out near the trap,” he explained. “And there, I saw the strange creatures that were killed.”

“I have made a decree that no one was to go near them. There might be more, Sojef.”

“And you were right, Basileaus! There were more!”

Robia blinked. “You saw more of them?”

“Yes! They came to rescue their comrades; one of them was still alive!” He paused for a moment. “Their great leader, the one they call Impa, she is a goddess. She traveled down to the bottom of the trap and rescued her companion.”

“A goddess?” someone asked incredulously.

“Yes! I saw her do wondrous things.”

“What sort of things, papa?” Robia questioned him.

“The great Impa can travel on the wind. Did you see the flash of light?”

“We saw it,” Leafa said softly.

“That was her majesty. She can move people, objects, and herself through the wind with her great powers.”

“That’s impossible,” someone scoffed.

“Not impossible!” Sojef cried passionately. “I know, because she moved me with her wind!”

Robia stared at him. “You?”

“Yes! When I was injured, her servant healed my wounds and she returned me to this place with her words.”

“What you’re telling us is difficult to believe, Sojef,” Leafa said as she closed the latch on the gate.

“I know it is,” he told her, breaking through the crowd and holding his hands up to salute her. “But I speak the truth, Basileaus. The Impa’s companions even saluted her as we salute you.”

“But you know full well that I am not divine,” Leafa replied.

“Yes, Basileaus, but you cannot move people with the green winds. The Impa can. She is divine.”

“And her companions?”

“I do not know what they are called. But we’ve killed them, which will make her displeased with us.”

“Why did they come here?”

Sojef frowned, searching his memory for the answer. “I remember when I was in the house of the gods, hearing something about a castle.”

“A castle?”

“Yes, they wish to build a castle.”

“Here?”

“Apparently,” Sojef said with a nod. He turned to address the villagers. “We have displeased the Impa in killing her companions. Hurry, we must set up an altar and make a sacrifice to appease her!”

At once, the villagers ran off, disappearing into their huts and shops, doubtlessly to gather the supplies they needed. Leafa stood motionless, watching as the scene played out. Somehow, she could sense a sudden presence behind her. She knew Tully was by her side.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“Sojef has communed with the strangers. He’s met their divinity, a being called the Impa.”

“You seem concerned.”

“He says they wish to build a castle here.”

“Here? On our lands?”

“Yes.” Leafa folded her arms. Although she wouldn’t dare say it, not to Tully, not to anyone else, she realized that her worse fears about the strangers were coming to fruition. Gods or not, they were changing the way of life for the people. A cold fear ran down her spine.



Glas and Impa sat side by side on the floor of the tent, leaning against a wooden crate. Impa’s eyes were closed and she was resting her head on his shoulder. Absently, Glas traced invisible designs on Impa’s knee, barely paying attention to them as he examined her face. He wanted to memorize it, every curve, every line, as perfect as possible.

“Stop that,” she mumbled vaguely.

“Stop what?”

“Staring. It’s rude.”

Softly, Glas chuckled. He had absolutely no idea how Impa was able to do that. Every time, she amazed him more and more. It had always been that way, since they first met as young novices in the Sheikah order, preparing to take their places at the side of the royal family. That had been nearly fifteen years ago. He marveled at the way the time had changed them both. Impa was such a handsome woman now, perfect in every possibly way, as he believed.

“Hey guys?” Glas looked up. Silhouetted in the early morning sun against the canvas of the tent, he could see Kaya’s figure. “Quit smooching, I’m coming in!”

Sighing, Impa pulled away from Glas and stood up. “We’re clean, Kaya,” she said.

“That’s debatable,” Kaya called cheerfully, parting the flap and ducking into the tent. “I found the telepathy stones.” She held out two smooth tablets.

“Where were they?” Glas asked, standing up.

“Under Menteith’s unmentionables.”

“Give me that,” Impa snapped, snatching one of the tablets roughly out of Kaya’s hands.

“Irritable,” Kaya muttered.

“It’s a good thing you found those,” Glas told her diplomatically.

“It is?”

“Yeah. Now we can do a proper search for Menteith…who apparently failed to put on his unmentionables.”

Impa turned to look at him. “What did you have in mind?” she asked carefully, fighting to keep her voice neutral.

“The two of us can go out with one of the stones and do a sweep. You can stay back here and contact Yonah.”

Kaya scowled. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? I mean, there seem to be some traps out there and I’m not keen on the idea of being impaled.” Impa gave her a sharp look. “Oh…sorry,” she muttered, remembering how personally Impa was taking the whole situation.

“We have to find Menteith,” Glas answered.

“Kaya has a point though,” Impa muttered.

“Yeah!” Kaya cried enthusiastically. A moment later, she turned to look at Impa. “I do?”

“Just blindly stumbling out there isn’t going to help anything. We have to consider this hostile territory.”

“So what should we do?” Glas asked.

“You should go separately,” she replied.

“But we only have one extra stone.”

Impa licked her lips. “Kaya, you take the stone.”

Kaya blinked. “Why me?”

“I trust you less.”

“Oh.”

“You’ll both head to the pass and then I want each of you to take one flank. Go no further than required to see the hill.”

Glas nodded. “How long do we have?”

“Sunset,” Impa said in her no nonsense sort of way. It’s harder to detect traps in the dark. I want you back here safely, with or without Menteith.”

Kaya put her hands on her hips. “If we’re considering this hostile territory, we should take some added measures.”

“What do you mean?”

“Camouflage.”

Impa studied them for a moment. “I have a better idea.” With that, she set down the telepathy stone and raced across the tent to Glas’ supply pack. From it, she removed two long bandages. Behind her, she could hear Kaya and Glas following.

“Those were sterile…” Glas sighed.

“We can use them,” Impa said, standing up. “Like this.” She came to Kaya and wrapped the bandage around her head, covering her ears and pressing them up against her temples.

“Do you really think we can pass for these strange creatures?” Kaya wondered loudly.

“It can’t hurt to try,” Impa shrugged. She turned to Glas and began to wrap his ears in the same fashion. “We have some burlap bags that aren’t being used. They can be easily fashioned into traveling robes.”

“And what happens when they ask us who we are?” Kaya sniffed.

“Tell them that you’re from a village down south. That’s true enough.”

“What if they don’t have other villages?”

“Risk is part of our job, Kaya,” Glas put in.

“And I’m not saying you should go out of your way to make contact,” Impa added. “This is just in case.”

“All right, all right. Fine. But I’m staying as far away from these people as possible.”

“Get gone.”

Kaya marched out of the tent without being told twice. Once the tent flap swung back into place, Glas turned to look at Impa, taking her hands in his. “We’ll be back before sunset,” he promised, kissing each hand in turn.

“You, I’m not worried about. Kaya,” she sighed softly, “is another matter entirely.”

“We’ve known that for years,” Glas joked.

“Be careful.”

“I promise.”

Impa leaned forward slightly, kissing Glas very tenderly. This didn’t seem to be enough for him however. He swept his hand behind her back, pressing her against his chest and deepened the kiss, dipping her over slightly. All good things had to end however, including this kiss. Glas straightened out and stepped back. He kissed Impa’s hand one last time, the hand with the string around her finger.

From outside the tent, the two of them suddenly heard smacking noises. “Quit it, Kaya!” Impa shouted.

“Sorry!”

Impa turned back to Glas. “Good luck.”

“You too.” With that, he departed.

Left alone, Impa returned to the other end of the tent. Reluctantly, she placed her hand on top of the smooth surface of the telepathy stone. Instantly, a warm, gentle feeling flooded her veins, making her feel as though her hand had become a part of the tile. She felt her mind expand, swelling to open up to the nature of Hyrule. She heard voices coming out of every village and town, every shack and stall, all the most intimate thoughts of her fellow Hylians struggling to be heard from miles away. Filtering these sounds out, she reached further until her mind was racing down the narrow hallways of the Shadow Temple.

*Impa, is that you?* a voice whispered telepathically in her head.

*Yes, Yonah.* Impa would have known that voice any day, even without seeing Yonah’s tired, worn face

*How are things going down there?*

*Not well, Yonah,* Impa replied reluctantly.

*What’s the matter?*

*There’s been an accident.*

*What happened?*

*An old trap was set off. Six of my people are dead. Nuria is dying. Menteith is missing.*

*By the Triforce…*

*Glas and Kaya are off trying to locate Menteith. Yonah, there are people here: An entire tribe, perhaps.*

*Gerudo?*

*No. They have rounded ears.*

*I’ve heard stories of a race like that. I didn’t believe they actually existed.*

*What are they called, Yonah?*

*Humans.*

*Humans.* Impa paused, her mind really not on the strange creatures.

Yonah seemed to sense this. *What happened wasn’t your fault, Impa. You couldn’t have known.*

*But I should have!*

*I’ll decide what you are to be held responsible for.* There was a moment of silence. *I’m going to travel down there to give our fallen comrades proper burial. Keep me apprised of what’s happening.*

*Yes, Yonah.* With that, Impa could feel the link severe. An unsettling quiet fell upon her as the thoughts and whispers disappeared from inside of her brain. She removed her hand from the stone and leaned back, sitting on her heels. Yonah was coming. In some ways this was a comfort to her. In other ways…a new dread.



As Glas descended from the right side of the hill, he could tell right away that the villagers saw him. Weighing his options, he decided it would be wiser to approach than to run away. They certainly didn’t seem alarmed at the sight of him. In fact, they barely seemed to pay much attention to him. This was just as well, however, as it gave him ample time to admire the architecture of this oasis in the vast expanse of nothingness around them.

On the surface, the dwellings appeared almost primitive. They were dome shaped huts of wicker and clay with holes in the zeniths of the domes. Long wooden ladders leaned against the side of each, climbing up to the entrances. It was a clever design. At night, they could draw the ladders into the huts, making it difficult for animals or intruders to scurry inside.

At the far end of the village, there was a hut much larger than the others, with an animal hide hanging over a more conventional entry way. Curls of blue smoke climbed out from around the skin, crawling into the air and disappearing. Glas reasoned it was used for meetings or perhaps even communal meals.

The entire village was encircled in a high picket fence made up of the same stakes that lined the bottom of the hill trap. They were spaced well enough apart that one could see in and out, but close enough together that no one could squeeze in, save for a gopher or two. The tops were pointed also, probably tipped with hemlock to discourage climbers. Along the fence were several gates with iron latches. The people were clearly more technologically savvy than they appeared at first.

Right now, all of the gates were wide open and as Glas approached, he could see shepherds leading their flocks of sheep and goats in and out through the doorways farthest from him. At the entrance closest to him, there was a large gathering of people, huddling together around one central figure. They were all very quiet, save for one voice that rang over the others. From this distance, he couldn’t hear what was being said, but from the intonation, he supposed it must have been something very important.

“Halt, stranger!”

Glas turned around. Standing directly behind him was a fairly large man with short, spiky cornrows, pulling on a taut bowstring. There was an arrow nocked in his bow, pointing directly at him. Carefully, Glas held up his hands. This seemed to intrigue the stranger, who loosened his grip on the string and lowered the point of the arrow. “I mean no harm,” Glas assured him.

“I see that you do not,” the man replied, putting his weapon down on the ground. Suddenly, he held his hands up, in a similar gesture to the one Glas had just used to indicate that he was unarmed. “Peace and long life.”

Blinking, Glas kept his hands up. “Peace and long life.”

“I am Tully.”

“Glas.”

“An unusual name,” Tully said, lowering his hands and picking up his bow again. “You are not of Kakariko.”

“Kakariko?”

“The village,” Tully supplied, gesturing over Glas’ shoulder.

“Oh. No.”

“Where are you from?”

“My village is to the south. It’s called Kasuto.”

“Who is your Basileaus?”

Glas fought not to stutter. After a moment, his logic set in. “Yonah,” he replied. He didn’t really know if Basileaus meant leader, but it seemed that way.
“We are ruled under Leafa,” Tully replied, seeming to accept Glas’ answer. “Why have you come here?”

“Yonah has sent me,” Glad answered.

“For what purpose?”

“To speak with your…Basileaus. We have been isolated from your village for generations,” he said smoothly, coming up with the lie even as he spoke it. “Yonah sends us to make friendly contact.”

“I’m afraid, you’ve come at a strange time,” Tully told him.

“Strange? Why so?”

“Unusual creatures have appeared in our lands. They are unnatural beings with bat like features and fire in their eyes.”

Glas held his breath, hoping against hope that there were people in the village with red eyes like his. “What do you think the creatures want?”

“Sojef believes that they come from the wind goddess.”

“Wind goddess?”

“He says he’s seen her himself. She is called the Impa.”

Glas nearly choked. “The Impa?”

“Yes.”

“I’d like to hear more about this wind goddess.”

“You may hear Sojef himself,” Tully muttered, gesturing to the large clump of people near the open gate. “He’s speaking to the people now. Last night, he led the sacrifices to her.”

“I will hear this,” Glas decided quietly.

“Peace and long life.”

“Peace and long life.”

Tully headed off, moving to the hill. Glas, meanwhile, started for the village again. He was amazed the ruse had worked, but it seemed he had been accepted for one of the village creatures. His uneasiness was only rising though. As he got closer to the group, he was able to make out the central figure. At once, the recognition set in. It was the injured man Kaya had saved from the hemlock stakes.

“The Impa is a glorious wind goddess!” Sojef boomed to the people around them. “She rides her chariot on the winds of emerald fire.”

“Emerald fire?” someone from the crowd asked incredulously. “I do not believe such things.”

“You saw the flash yourself!” Sojef cried passionately. “All of you saw the flash, or know someone who did!”

The people murmured to one another in agreement. Glas glanced around. He realized that Sojef might recognize him, with or without his ears, so he casually stepped behind a gnarled tree just outside of the village gate. Sojef’s passionate sermon continued.

“We have destroyed her followers with our cruel and warlike ways!” Sojef shouted, “We must appease her anger! We must find forgiveness from her wrath before she sends her emerald fire upon us!”

“That will never happen, Sojef,” one of the villagers groaned.

“Mark my words, she will return to the trap to claim her vengeance. She will…” and Sojef trailed off, his eyes going out, somewhere beyond the gathering.

Everyone turned to see what he was looking at. Stumbling through the grass, two of the village warriors were guiding a bloodied and dizzy Sheikah. Menteith! Glas opened his mouth to call out to his companion, but his logic quickly restrained him and he held his tongue.

“You see!” Sojef shouted, breaking through the crowd and running to meet the warriors. “More of them have come!”

Tully came sprinting back to the scene. Apparently, he had seen his warriors too. “What’s this?” he asked.

“We found him near the water,” one of the warriors told him.

“He was delirious,” the other one said.

“You!” Sojef called to the confused Sheikah. “What’s your name?”

“He can’t hear you, Sojef,” Tully said.

“Menteith…” Menteith muttered, his voice dry and cracked.

Sojef gasped. “Menteith!”

“Do you know this man?” Tully asked incredulously.

“I heard the Impa speak of him!”

“What?”

“She sent some of her underlings to find him! He must be a runaway from her order. Look, he has the same ears!”

“Why would she be seeking him?”

“He must have run away from her,” Sojef decided.

“What do we do?” one of the village girls implored Sojef, grabbing his arm.

“We have to send him back to her.”

“How?”



The burlap robes itched! Kaya absolutely couldn’t stand it. No matter how she moved or what part of her body she moved, the scratchy surface of the burlap would grate against her skin. Desperately, she wished she had thought to wear her Sheikah uniform underneath, as Glas had elected, but no, she wanted to be cool in the sunlight. So there she was, stuck with itchy skin.

Kaya moved along the base of the hill. She absolutely refused to climb up it again, not after what she had seen in that pass. The vision of all her friends, splattered across the floor of the cavern was still haunting her. She wouldn’t admit it, certainly not to Impa and Glas, the two most fearless people she had known in her life, but she was still reeling. It was just so senseless! To be certain, she had seen death, many times before, but that had always been in battle, fighting to protect the royals. But this wasn’t a war. This was a scouting mission to find a good spot to build the new castle.

She shuddered involuntarily. Of course, Impa was taking it much harder on herself, she always had a sort of martyr complex, but what bothered Kaya the most about the entire situation was that it wasn’t Impa’s fault at all. It was a completely arbitrary, random event in the chaotic flow of the life of the Sheikah race. Kaya sighed. She should have been born a Hylian. What a philosopher she would have made! Underappreciated, of course, but still possessing that greatness to linger after her when her time was done.

Giggling, Kaya, removed the telepathy stone from her pack and tossed it in the air. The tablet flipped several times then fell back, landing in her hand. Impa would be horrified, of course, to see her treating an important tool so casually, but Kaya just didn’t follow Impa’s staunch lifestyle, though she knew it would have been better for her. She glanced out at the landscape as she replaced the tile. It was pretty, in an untouched sort of way, but Kaya preferred the city, to be honest.

Off in the distance, she saw some movement. “Menteith?” Kaya squinted, shielding her eyes from the sun. No, it wasn’t Menteith, but the figure was definitely moving toward her. Glancing to the side, she noticed a willow tree a few paces away. Slowly, trying hard not to draw attention to herself, Kaya slunk off to the side, hiding behind the trunk of the tree. She removed her pack, setting it down at her feet in preparation of a possible fray or flight.

By now, she could tell that she was being approached by one of the villagers. This was a young one, a female, she supposed, based on the smooth face and slightly longer hair. She wore a baggy brown tunic with a necklace of white stones. In her arms was a bundle of kindling. Ever few paces, she would stop to gather up some more from the ground, rather indiscriminately.

Kaya watched as the girl came closer and closer, praying to the goddesses that she wouldn’t be spotted. The last thing she wanted was an encounter with one of the villagers who had been directly or indirectly responsible for the deaths of her friends on the scouting trek through the pass.

Several meters away, the girl stooped down to pick up some more wood. “I can see you, you know,” she said calmly, in a clearly feminine voice.

“I know,” Kaya lied, stepping out from behind the tree.

“Of course you do.”

Carefully, Kaya checked to make certain her ears were covered. She moved forward as the other woman straightened out with her armload of firewood. “I was just…testing you.”

“Of course,” the other girl said. Finally, she looked at Kaya. “Are you from the other village?”

“The other village,” Kaya repeated carefully.

“Our champion told us that we had a visitor from another village, called Kasuto, under Yonah.”

Kaya blinked. “Oh. Yeah, that’s me.”

“You seem a little bit lost.”

“You could say that.”

“The village is that way,” she told Kaya, pointing in the opposite direction she had came from.

“Lucky thing I ran into you.”

“Lucky thing.” She bowed her head. “I’m Robia, daughter of Sojef.” A moment of silence passed between the two of them. “And you are?” Robia prompted her when she didn’t respond.

“What? Me? Oh, I’m Kaya.”

“Peace and long life, Kaya.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“I’m heading back to the village as soon as I finish gathering the wood. I can show you the way.”

“Thanks…”

“I just need a little more. This isn’t nearly enough for the sacrifice.”

“Sacrifice?”

“Yes,” Robia explained. “We’re making a sacrifice to the Impa.”

Kaya folded her arms. She unfolded them. Once more, she folded them. “The Impa?”

“The wind goddess,” Robia told her. “My father has had a vision of her and knows her desires.”

“Really?” Kaya’s mind was racing and she didn’t like it one bit. “And what are her desires exactly?”

“The being called Menteith.”

“Menteith.”

“Yes, our hunters found him. Father says we must send him back to the Impa to please her.”

“Send him back to the Impa?”

“Yes.”

“And how are you going to do that, exactly?”

Robia shrugged. “By sacrificing him.”

Kaya was forced to cover a sound of astonishment with a cough. “Sacrificing him, huh?”

Glancing to one side, Robia frowned. “Honestly, I’m a bit skeptical about the entire ordeal. We haven’t believed in Joxom and the other gods for centuries. My father’s always been a bit of an eccentric. I can’t possibly believe he means to actually kill a person. I’m hoping it’s just…symbolic. We are not savages. Killing people is wrong.”

“I completely agree,” Kaya said.

“Anyway, would you like me to show you back to the village?”

“Why don’t you finish collecting your wood? I seem to have misplaced my pack somewhere, let me see if I can find it.”

“All right,” Robia agreed. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

Kaya watched as Robia walked away, disappearing around the bend of the hill. As soon as she was out of sight, Kaya raced back to her pack behind the tree, fumbling with the laces before she managed to rip it open and yank out the telepathy stone. She slapped it down on the ground and crouched beside it, putting her hand directly in the middle of the tile. Instantly, the uncomfortable sensation filled her mind. To Kaya, it was like warm water being dribbled into her ear and flowing into her brain, accompanied by a cacophony of noise.

Soon, she felt her mind link to Impa. *Impa,* she called impatiently.

*Yes?* Impa’s voice replied after a moment.

*We have a little bit of a situation here.*

*What is it?*

*Well, I just made first contact with a villager.*

*You did what?*

*I didn’t mean to. And for the record, it seems that Glas beat me to it. She was talking about a stranger from Kasuto and she mentioned Yonah’s name and I thought that –*

*What’s the situation?* Impa interrupted.

*Oh. Well, the girl I met told me the village was preparing for a sacrifice of the fiery variety.*

*So? We can’t interfere in the development of another culture.*

*It seems that we already have.*

*What do you mean?*

*Well…they’re making the sacrifice to a wind goddess called the Impa.*

There was a long moment of silence on Impa’s end. *What?* she asked very slowly.

*It seems that our villager friend we sent back wasn’t completely unconscious. He thinks you’re a goddess.*

*I’m not.*

*I know that, Glas knows that, you know that. Apparently this…Sojef guy…doesn’t know it.*

*Yonah will be furious…*

*I haven’t gotten to the other part yet. They’re sacrificing Menteith.*

*What!?!*

*Yeah, apparently Sojef heard you talking about finding him and interpreted it as you wanted him sacrificed. So…what should I do, boss?*

Impa took a moment to respond again. *Get to the village and find Glas. Have him cause a distraction and use Farore’s Wind to get Menteith out.*

*I can do that,* Kaya replied. *But what about the people? They’ll still think you’re their wind goddess. We’ve damaged their civilization.*

*I know, I know,* Impa responded impatiently. *I’m thinking.*

Kaya glanced out. In the distance, she could see Robia returning to her. *Think faster,* she urged Impa.

*Okay. When you get to the village, find out who their leader is.*

*Okay. Why?*

*When you take Menteith, try and bring the leader too. The people will listen to their leader above all others. If I can convince him or her that I’m not a goddess, then we might be able to undo the damage.*

*I’ll do what I can, Impa,* Kaya promised.

*We’ve done these people just as much wrong as they’ve accidentally done us. Don’t try, succeed.*

*I will.* With that, Kaya removed her hand from the tile. She slipped it back into her pack and stood up, having her hands to Robia. “Hey, Robia! I found it. Take me to your leader.”



As the sun began to sink below the horizon, Glas was caught by the way it silhouetted the large hut near the edge of the village. He stood completely still for a long time, watching the beautiful vision. Behind him, he could hear the sounds of the sacrifice festival being prepared. None was quite as overzealous about the ordeal as Sojef, who eagerly barked orders to his peers. Glas had been careful to avoid any contact with Sojef, fearing recognition, but he had managed to follow Sojef and his group as they dragged poor Menteith into the meeting hut to await sacrifice.

There was a long figure standing near the hut, watching the sunset. Her name, he had learned, was Leafa, and she was the leader of this community. She seemed to possess many of the same attributes as the greatest Sheikah warriors; a sense of poise, dignity, and great stature. She had a rustic beauty, but a clearly cosmopolitan intellect that stuck Glas, even from afar. Somehow, he imagined that she was different from the others.

“That’s the one?” Kaya asked softly, somewhere behind Glas’ elbow.

He nodded. “That’s the one.” He gestured vaguely to the hut. “There are two guards near the entrance. There and there. I think there’s also a third one behind the hut. The first two will have to be dispatched. If you can do it quietly, you won’t have any trouble with the third one.”

“I can do quiet.”

“You can?” he teased with a slight smile.

Kaya whacked his arm. “Not funny.”

“Sorry.”

“I forgive you.”

Glas folded his arms, examining the situation some more. “The first thing you’re going to need to do once the guards are down is nab Leafa. Make sure to gag her right away, otherwise, she’ll call for help.”

“And the people will rush to the aid of their leader.”

“They seem to respect her.” He paused. “We’d do the same for Yonah.”

“Yonah? We’d do the same for Impa.”

He grinned. “Yes.”

“Okay, so I take her silently.”

“Get her into the hut with Menteith.”

“Hut for two.”

“And use Farore’s Wind to get all three of you back to base camp as quickly as you can.”

“What about you?”

He licked his lips thoughtfully. “I’ll keep the villagers distracted for as long as I can.”

“Okay.”

“At the soonest possible moment, I’ll get out of their sight and use Farore’s Wind to get myself back.”

“Out of sight?”

“I believe we’ve already discovered beyond a reasonable doubt that it isn’t a bright idea to do that in front of them.”

Kaya nodded. “I can’t get over how strange it is. They honestly believe that Impa is a goddess.”

“Imagine how it would be if the roles were reversed, Kaya. One of us might very well make the same conclusion.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

Glas shook his head. “We’re no different from these people. Only a little bit further along in our cultural evolution. Not even further along necessarily, just different. Some day, they’ll be like us.”

“You think so?”

“The Sheikah race once lived in grass huts.”

“We did?”

He gave her a funny look. “You really need to pay more attention to your history lectures, Kaya.”

“I know, I know,” she grinned.

After ruffling her hair, Glas put a hand firmly on her shoulder. “Go. Fulfill Impa’s orders.”

“Be careful,” she implored him.

“You too.”

They stood to face each other, square shoulders to square shoulders. In perfect unison, they touched their fists to their hearts, saluting each other in the Sheikah fashion. With a curt nod, Kaya turned around and casually strolled away, making a leisurely and indirect path to the meeting hut and her duties there.

Glas turned to face the village. As he had anticipated, he saw. Sojef had built a makeshift scaffold over the growing pyre. He stood before it now, shouting out to the people as they passed back and forth in front of him, some carrying out his orders, others trying their best to ignore him as they went about their business.

“Great Impa!” he declared to the sky. “We will return your Menteith to you, as you wish!”

Closing his eyes, Glas rubbed his face. This wasn’t going to be easy. Nor was it going to be fun. “There is no goddess known as the Impa,” he shouted.

This stunned several of the villagers into silence, among them, Sojef. He stared out into the crowd, trying to locate the source of the blasphemy. “Who dares to question the power of the Impa?”

“No divinity is listening to your words,” Glas shouted again. By this point, several of the people nearby identified him as the speaker. They stared at him, some in curiosity, some in horror depending on how far into Sojef’s philosophy they had become enmeshed.

“Who speaks?” Sojef demanded.

“The stranger,” one of the villagers declared, pointing at Glas.

“I speak,” Glas declared. He was standing under the shade of a tree. In the dying light, the shadow obfuscated his face somewhat.

“What do you know of the Impa?” Sojef challenged him.

“Her divinity is a figment of your overactive imagination,” Glas replied. He felt somewhat horrible, calling Sojef out like this. He had no wish to humiliate or otherwise discredit the old man, but the truth had to be known. Impa was not a goddess. There was nothing else to be done about it.

“Heretic!” Sojef roared. Several of his more eager followers began to mumble in agreement.

“You’ve built a fictional goddess,” Glas answered.

“Seize him!” Sojef barked.

Several of his more loyal followers began to advance on Glas when suddenly, there was a scream. From the meeting tent, an eruption of green light spilled out, illuminating the sky for a moment. Glas felt a secret satisfaction, knowing that Kaya had accomplished her task.

“What was that?” someone shrieked.

Some of the villagers broke away from the pack and ran to the hut, meeting up with the third guard that Kaya had managed to evade. They tore the hide hanging from the doorway aside and peered into the building. “He’s gone!” one of them cried in horror.

“Who’s gone?” Sojef demanded.

“Menteith!”

“Does that mean the Impa has taken him?” another asked.

“That is the color of her fire,” Sojef said in a low voice, filled with awe and admiration.

“Do you think she’s pleased?” the villager wondered.

Sojef seemed to consider the question for a moment. His eyes darkened suddenly as he turned to face Glas. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because there is one who speaks blasphemy is in our grasp.” Sojef began to walk, the crowd parting around him as he moved. As he approached Glas, his face suddenly stiffened in a look of recognition. “You!”

Glas could feel his stomach drop out from under him. “Me?”

“I know you!” Sojef broke into a run, coming to meet up with Glas. Glas tried to back away, but there were two villagers behind him now, who each grabbed one of his arms to hold him in place. “You’re one of the followers of the Impa!”

“What are you talking about, Sojef?” someone scoffed.

Sojef reached out and grabbed the bandage around Glas’ forehead, ripping it off to reveal his pointed Sheikah ears. There was a collective gasp. Many people in the crowd took a step back in surprise. “He is a defector! Tie him up!”

The options flickered through Glas’ mind, even as he was being dragged through the village. He could attempt to do Farore’s Wind, but with so many hands on him, that would only cause a terrible mess, not to mention further Sojef’s overzealous assertions about Impa. Fighting his way to freedom was another option, but the last thing Glas wanted, both as a healer and a Sheikah, was to harm these innocent people. This left him with the third, undesirable option: Waiting it out.



Leafa paced back and forth like a caged tiger, every muscle in her shoulders and arms as tense as possible. One moment, she had been standing by the meeting hut, watching the sunset and the next, she felt a hand clamp over her mouth as she was dragged inside where Menteith was sitting. A blaze of green light flashed, causing her skin to tingle. When her vision cleared, she found herself in a strange tent with Menteith and a stranger who was carrying him. The stranger had instructed Leafa to stay where she was and left.

Ordinarily, Leafa was not one for taking orders, but something about the entire ordeal disturbed her so much that she gave in to her better reasoning. It would have been easy to slip out of the tent. There was no one else inside to guard her and the flap was swaying freely in the breeze. But Leafa’s logic reminded her that she had no idea what was on the other side of the entrance. For all she knew, there might be thousands of them, whoever they were.

The flap of the tent swung open and a woman entered. Leafa turned to face the newcomer, pulling herself up to her fullest height possible. The other woman looked at her with scarlet eyes, somewhat tired. “No one is going to hurt you,” she said. Her voice was surprisingly deep, though she looked only seventeen.

“Forgive me if I don’t believe you,” Leafa replied.

“You have ever right to disbelieve me,” the woman countered. “I’m told your name is Leafa.”

“Yes,” Leafa replied proudly. “Basileaus Leafa.”

“Basileaus. That means leader, right?”

“Yes,” she said fiercely.

“On my honor, Basileaus, no one will harm you here.”

Leafa folded her arms across her chest. “Where am I? Why have I been brought here? Who are you?”

“You’re about three kilometers from your village. You’ve been brought here at my bidding.”

“And who are you?”

“My name,” she said slowly, “is Impa.”

A nervous laugh escaped Leafa’s lips. “Do you jest?” she asked, the resolution dissolving from her frame.

“No.”

Immediately, Leafa fell to her knees, bowing her head. “Forgive me!” she cried urgently.

“No! No! Stop that!” Impa crossed the room in three quick strides and took Leafa by the shoulders, lifting her off the ground.

“Forgive me.”

“There is nothing to forgive.”

“I did not know you.”

“There is no reason you should have.”

“But it’s blasphemy!”

“It’s not blasphemy,” Impa sighed in exasperation. “This is why I’ve brought you here.”

“What?”

“I’m not a goddess, Leafa. Your people have been terribly misinformed.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’m just a mortal.”

“But how is that possible? I’ve seen the green fire.”

“The green fire?”

“Yes,” Leafa said, nodding vigorously. “When Sojef returned to the village. He rode on a breeze of green fire.”

Impa scowled. “That wasn’t green fire. That was Farore’s Wind.” Leafa stared at her blankly. “A spell,” Impa sighed. “A trick. Nothing more.”

“A trick?”

“Where I come from,” she explained, “everyone can do that with a little bit of practice.”

“None of my people can summon wind.”

“No…not yet anyway.”

“Yet?”

Impa shrugged. “It’s possible that someday, your people could learn to do it just as well as mine.”

“Impossible!”

“Of course not. There was a time when the Sheikah couldn’t do it either, but now we can.”

“The Sheikah?”

“My people.”

“There are more of you?”

“Yes,” Impa said with a nod.

Leafa’s eyes widened. “Then I am truly in the pantheon.”

“No!” Impa was about to try and correct her yet again when the tent flap opened and Kaya walked in.

“Impa,” Kaya called softly.

“What?” Impa snapped, her irritability started to crack the surface.

“It’s Nuria,” Kaya said gently. “She’s…”

Scowling, Impa nodded. Leafa looked back and forth between them in confusion. “She’s what?”

“Dying,” Kaya answered.

“Who is she?”

“One of my people,” Impa sighed. Suddenly, she blinked her bright red eyes. “Come with me.”

The three women exited the tent. As they passed over the Sheikah compound, Leafa looked around in amazements. There were many tents, built of tarp, of dark purples and blues. On the tent poles hung white flags with a bizarre shape in gold thread. It looked like three triangles forming a larger triangle or pyramid.

They made their way to another, much smaller tent of dark navy. Kaya lifted the flap for Impa who ducked in. Catching Leafa’s eyes, she gestured for her to follow. Inside the tent were several white cots, running in a line across the middle of the room. On the cot closest to the door was Menteith. He was unconscious, but breathing deeply. His wounds had been haphazardly patched up.

As Leafa looked along the line of cots, she saw that the very last one in the row was also occupied, by a woman with caramel colored hair that she didn’t recognize. This woman’s skin was damp with sweat. Her breathing was ragged and hard, her stomach jerking up and down violently. There were massive amounts of blood over her left side. Some of it was dry and clinging to her clothing, but much more of it was fresh, gushing out from an unseen wound.

Impa led Leafa over to this woman. “This is Nuria,” she said softly.

“She is your follower?”

“In a way. More so, she’s my friend,” Impa answered.

“And she is dying?”

“Yes.”

“Can’t you save her?”

“No, Basileaus, I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I’m not able to.”

“Has she broken with you?”

“No. Nuria has done nothing wrong.”

“Then why won’t you save her?”

“It’s not that I won’t save her,” Impa replied, “It’s that I can’t. I’m no more a divinity than you, Basileaus. I have no power over life and death.”

Nuria let out a startling gasp, causing all three women to flinch in surprise. For a moment, her eyes popped open and she almost sat up. In the next instant, she crumpled back to the cot like a puppet whose strings were cut. Kaya leaned forward and pressed her fingers to Nuria’s neck. She turned to look up at Impa and shook her head.

“She’s dead?” Leafa asked.

“You see, Basileaus, my people are just as mortal as yours.”

Impa and Kaya lifted their hands, bringing their fists to their hearts to salute their fallen cohort. Leafa watched them for a moment before copying the gesture. For a full minute, all three women were motionless. Slowly, Impa and Kaya dropped the salute and Leafa imitated them.

“I’m so sorry,” Leafa whispered.

“You are not to blame for this,” Impa told her. “What happened happened.”

“You’re not a goddess.”

“No. I’m just a woman. Like you. A woman responsible for the lives of others, but every bit a mortal.”

“Why did you come to this place?”

“We came looking for a place to build our leader’s castle. We didn’t know that your people were here.”

“Will you build it here?”

“No.” Impa shook her head. “No, we’ll probably head north. Find someplace there to build it. We’ve already done enough damage to your way of life.”

“Which is why you need to go back to your people and tell them that Impa isn’t the wind goddess,” Kaya cut in.

“For some it will be easier than for others,” Leafa muttered. “Sojef is absolutely convinced.”

“Then we’ll have to make him see the truth,” Impa said.

“I agree. For the good of both our people.”

“Kaya, go get Glas. We’re going to return to the village. On foot.”

“Um…Glas…” Kaya frowned, shifting from foot to foot. “Yeah, about that…I can’t.”

“What?”

“Glas is still in the village.”

“What!?!”

Kaya quickly held up her hands defensively. “It’s not my fault. He just didn’t return.”

“Something’s happened to him,” Impa sighed. “Come on.” Grabbing Kaya’s arm, she marched out of the tent. Leafa followed after them. Perhaps this Impa wasn’t a goddess. Leafa had been skeptical from the beginning, but whatever she was, she had an admirable quality that Leafa was immediately drawn to. They were the same person in a sense. Impa had every quality of a Basileaus.



“For the Impa!” Sojef shouted.

“For the Impa!” the villagers under Sojef’s spell chorused together, wildly throwing their fists up in the air.

The situation was going from bad to worse for Glas. He found himself on top of the scaffolding, his arms and legs tied to an enormous stake running up the center of the pyre. As he looked down below at the situation, his eyes were greeted with an immensely polarized village. It seemed that half of the villagers had fallen in with Sojef by this point, convinced of Impa’s divinity from the flash of Farore’s Wind they saw with their own eyes. The other half was a bit more standoffish, most of them flocking around the champion Glas had met earlier, Tully. This half watched, half fearful, half indignant at the sight of Glas being prepared for sacrifice.

Glas couldn’t say he enjoyed it much himself. At this point, Farore’s Wind was no longer an option. He was tied down. While he still might be able to fight – though the very notion of violence repelled him – he highly doubted he could escape all of the zealots without someone getting hurt. Of course, there was always that dreaded third option, which grew less and less appealing as the torches began to travel closer and closer to the pyre below.

“Great Impa!” Sojef called to the sky. “In place of Menteith, we send you this blasphemer who abandoned your side!”

“Oh, the irony,” Glas muttered.

There was a burst of light. The villagers all shrieked and started in surprise, turning to look at the empty ground near the meeting hut where the light slowly faded. Standing there, freshly materialized, they saw Impa, flanked by Kaya and Leafa on either side.

“Leafa!” Tully shouted, forgetting all formalities and running over to her.

“Everything is all right,” she assured him quietly, holding up a hand to stop him mid-stride.

Sojef’s eyes widened. “Behold!” he cried, “the Impa!” Amidst the excited whisperings of his followers, Sojef vaulted from his place, racing over to the three women and falling in prostration at Impa’s feet.

“Glas!” Impa screamed in shock as she caught sight of her beloved. “Let him go, get him down from there!”

“Do as she commands!” Sojef barked to his followers. At once, they began to climb the pyre and untie a very grateful Glas.

“Sojef, get up,” Leafa said. But he refused to move. “Sojef, I order you to stand up.”

“Forgive me, Basileaus. I answer to the goddess before I can answer to you,” Sojef replied.

“You’ve been deceived,” Leafa pressed. “Impa is not a goddess. She’s flesh and blood, the same as us.”

“That cannot be!” Sojef insisted. He looked up at Impa. “Please forgive my Basileaus, she doesn’t know what she says.”

“Stand up,” Impa told him.

At once, Sojef climbed to his feet. “Welcome, great goddess. Welcome to our village.”

“I am not a goddess,” Impa said.

This set off a chain reaction of murmurs in the crowd. “What?” Sojef blinked. “That cannot be.”

“Your Basileaus speaks the truth,” Impa addressed the people. “My name is Impa. I am not a goddess: Just the Basileaus of a different people. We are called the Sheikahs and we mean no harm to anyone.”

More murmurs. “But…but the Sheikahs are a holy people,” Sojef insisted loudly. “They have great powers.”

“The Sheikahs are flesh and blood, dust and shadows,” Impa replied.

“But I beheld your great power,” Sojef pressed on.

“What you beheld, what you all beheld, was a trick. A simple spell that all of my people can do.”

“Which makes you sacred!”

“No,” Impa said. “Which makes us different and nothing more.”

“Impa!” By this point, Glas had been completely freed. He ran over to the others, the crowd parting around him. When he reached Impa, she held her arms out and pulled him into a tight embrace. Kaya rolled her eyes. Leafa smiled slightly. As the two of them shared their reunion, she stepped around the silent Sojef and walked to the crowd. Tully fell into step behind her.

“Listen to your Basileaus,” Leafa called. “I have met with the Sheikahs, I have seen their home. They are mortals like us. They have come from the land down south on a mission from their Basileaus, a man they call the King. They came here seeking a new home for their King and thought to build one here. They did not know that our people existed. For them, the Human race was merely a myth. They mean us no harm, they never did.”

“But our trap killed their people!” Robia cried urgently from the crowd. “They’ll want vengeance on us!”

“That was an accident,” Kaya said.

“Yes,” Leafa agreed. “They did not know that we were protecting our village. They didn’t know it was here.”

“We will leave your society alone,” Impa promised, pulling apart from Glas at long last. “We do not wish to interfere in your natural course of evolution. Your way of life is safe. We’ll travel up north and seek another place to build the castle of the Hylian King.”

“What has happened here in the past few days will become a part of our history,” Leafa told her people. “We will remember it forever, but it will not destroy us. It will become part of our cultural capital. We will change and grow.”

“No!” Sojef roared, sounding more like an animal than a man. He tore down from the Sheikahs to Tully and Leafa. To defend his Basileaus, Tully stepped in front of her. Sojef seized the champion with surprising strength, throwing him to the ground. Instead of going after Leafa, however, he ripped Tully’s bow and quiver from his back and clumsily tried to nock an arrow.

“Sojef!” Leafa shouted.
“I’ll prove it!” Sojef growled.

“What are you doing?”

“The Impa is a goddess, I know it!”

“Sojef, stop this at once!”

But it was too late. Sojef pulled the bowstring back, taking aim at the Sheikahs. He released his hold and the arrow went flying. Impa shoved Glas out of the way and he went tumbling down, knocking into Kaya and taking her with him. Quickly, Impa turned to one side, wrapping her arms around her middle, but before she could take a step, the arrow went whizzing at her. She was lucky, to be certain, lucky it didn’t strike her heart. Instead, the arrow stuck into her shoulder, throwing her back a few steps, though like a good and true Sheikah, she remained on her feet. At once, blood began oozing down her arm, trickling off the tips of her fingers to the ground.

Tully climbed to his feet. He easily grabbed the bow from Sojef, tossing it to one side and pulling Sojef into a tight bear hug so that he couldn’t move. Glas, meanwhile, jumped up to his feet. He sprinted to Impa, who was staring in fascination at her new wound. “Hold still,” he told her. At once, he took hold of the arrow and broke the end off, so only the arrowhead remained, embedded firmly in Impa’s arm. She cried out in pain, calming herself as quickly as possible.

“Look, Sojef!” Leafa shouted, more to Sojef than to anyone else. She pointed to Impa. “Your goddess bleeds.”

“No,” Sojef whispered.
“Yes.”

“No, it’s not possible.”

Leafa turned to address everyone in the crowd. “All of you look! See what I see and remember it. The Sheikahs are flesh and blood, dust and shadows. They are not gods, they are men. They are just like us!”

Kaya got to her feet, moving quickly to her companions. “Are you all right?” she asked Impa.

“Fine,” Impa mumbled, half breathless.

“Remember what you’ve seen tonight!” Leafa roared. “This is what we must never forget!”

“Impa?” Glas called. To her, his voice seemed miles away. “Impa?” Slowly, the edges of Impa’s vision began to blur. She knew that she was going to lose consciousness, it had happened many times before. A part of her secretly liked the feeling: The noise around her swirled along with the colors in her vision. She could feel herself falling and falling, but she knew she would never hit the ground. Weightless and formless, she allowed the darkness to overcome her.



Fourteen days and fourteen nights passed without incident. The Sheikahs had no additional contact with the Human camp. Menteith was soon on the mend. He explained everything that had happened in the hill pass and it was ruled an accident, a circumstance that no one had any control over, due to both ignorance and carelessness. Impa too was healed from her wound and blood loss. Once again, she was moving about the camp, bossy and commanding as ever.

On the fifteenth day, Yonah arrived, accompanied by an honor guard of Hylian knights serving the royal family. As her carriage arrived, Impa, Kaya, Glas, and Menteith came out of their tents and stood in a single file line to greet her, all of them raising their fists to their hearts in a Sheikah salute.

The door opened and one of the knights held his hand out. From the depths of the carriage came an old, gnarled palm that clasped it. Yonah stepped into the night, the sun illuminating her wrinkled face. She was old, even by Sheikah standards, her long white hair pulled back into a tight braid that ended somewhere near her thighs. She was dressed in elegant courtly attire, now too old to don the uniform of a Sheikah warrior. Quickly, she surveyed the scene, her eyes suddenly falling on Impa with a startled expression.

“Welcome, Yonah,” Impa barked, standing stiffly at attention.

“Impa,” Yonah replied, ducking her head. “Come; let us speak inside of your tent.” Politely declining the arm offered by one of the knights, Yonah passed by the line of Sheikahs, Impa falling into step behind her. Briefly, Yonah paused by Glas. “Hello, Glas,” she said.

Glas bowed his head. “Hello, grandmother.” It was a bit of a lie. Yonah was more of a great, great, great, a few more greats, great grandmother, but Glas didn’t take the time to say all that.

Yonah continued down the line, passing into the tent with Impa behind her. “We will give your people proper burial,” Yonah said, taking a seat in Impa’s chair.

Impa knelt down near Yonah’s feet. “I am ready to accept the consequences of my actions.”

“Are you?”

“Yes.”

“Very well,” Yonah sighed, licking her chapped, thin lips. “Then I will pronounce sentence on you.”

“I’m ready.”

“For the charge of performing above and beyond the call of duty, I hereby promote you, Impa, daughter of Klymene, to full warrior status with all the rights and privileges that go with it.”

She blinked in surprise, looking up at Yonah. “What?”

“Are you hard of hearing, Impa?”

“I don’t understand.”

“There is nothing to understand. You have achieved the status of a full warrior for your actions here.”

“But all the fallen…”

“Let the fallen rest,” she said with a wave of her hand. “Glas has told me about your efforts with the Humans. I know all about how you managed to peacefully undo the damage that we did to their culture.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Say thank you, my dear girl.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course,” Yonah sighed, “this means that you won’t be going on any more scouting missions. I’ll have to give you a new charge.”

“What?”

Yonah leaned back in the chair. “I’ve been informed that the king’s wife is one season with child. I hereby appoint you the child’s royal guardian.”

Impa blinked, unable to grasp what had just been said. “You want me to work directly for the royals?”

Laughing, Yonah smiled. “Impa, you’ve been set on this course since the day you were born. It was your destiny; we were all just waiting for you to claim it. The events here have proven that you’re more than capable of finding solutions to the most difficult of situations. And believe me, children offer some of the most difficult situations you can imagine.” Yonah glanced down at Impa’s hand. The string Glas had tied to her finger was still there. “As you will learn for yourself.”

Impa blinked. “What?”

“I’m very old, Impa. I have powers you can’t possibly begin to fathom at your tender age. I knew you were pregnant from the moment I arrived in camp.”

She absently placed a hand over her stomach. “I haven’t told anyone yet.”

“And you mustn’t. Not if you’re going to serve the royal family. You know very well what would happen if our enemies found out you had a child. It would spell disaster for you, the royals, and that child.”

“I won’t tell,” Impa swore. If it were possible for her to blush, Impa would have blushed. Instead, she merely lowered her eyes, smiling slightly. “Thank you very much, Yonah. For everything.”

“I am very proud of you, Impa.”

“Thank you.”

“With this,” Yonah continued, pulling a dagger out of her cloak, “I hereby grant you full warrior status.”

Impa accepted the dagger, turning it over in her hands. A bright Sheikah eye gleamed from the hilt. “I am speechless.”

“No you’re not. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have been able to say, ‘I am speechless’ just now.”

“Ahem.” Both women turned to look at the tent flap. Kaya was poking her head inside.

“What is it?” Impa snapped, perhaps a little more harshly than she should have in Yonah’s presence.

“I hate to interrupt,” Kaya answered, “but I think you had better come out here right now.”

“What is it?”

“Just come.”

Kaya disappeared from the tent flap. With a sigh, Impa got to her feet. She offered Yonah a hand, but the old Sheikah matron refused standing of her own volition and walking straight past Impa, out of the tent. Blinking, Impa shrugged and followed her out.

Outside, standing a good deal downhill of the Hylian and Sheikah mob, Leafa, Tully, and a handful of villagers lingered in a clump, looking up with wide eyes. “Hello, Basileaus,” Impa called.

Leafa held up her hands. “Peace and long life.” She then proceeded to offer Impa the Sheikah salute.

Impa smiled slightly, returning the gesture. “Peace and long life.”

Yonah examined Leafa and her band critically. “Are these the Humans?” she asked.

“Yes, Yonah. This is Leafa, their Basileaus…their leader.” Impa gestured to Yonah. “Leafa, this is our leader, Yonah.”

“Greetings, Yonah,” Leafa said politely, saluting the elder. “Peace and long life to you.”

“I’m already quite old, I think.” As much as her old age would permit, Yonah bowed. “Hello, Basileaus.”

Carefully, Impa made her way down to the Humans. “Why are you here?” she questioned Leafa softly.

“Kaya says that you’re leaving,” Leafa replied, gesturing to Kaya.

“That’s correct.”

“She says you plan to go north to find some place to build your King’s castle. Is this true?”

“Yes.”

“Because of what’s happened here?”

“We don’t want to meddle with your people’s way of life, Leafa. We’ve already done enough damage.”

“Damage can be repaired,” Leafa answered. “I was once very afraid of change, but I’ve learned something from this encounter. Change is at the very heart of what we are.”

“What do you mean?”

“We’d like it very much,” Leafa said, “if you would consider calling this land ‘north’ and building your castle here.”

Impa was rendered speechless for yet another time. When she regained her words, she stuttered somewhat. “What?”

“My people wish to join the larger world. And it’s about time we did. We’ve lived alone for a very long time. You saw how eager we were to welcome strangers from Kasuto. Well, nothing would please us more than to welcome strangers from your entire world. We want to become part of it.”

“I’m not sure what to say,” Impa admitted.

“This is an idyllic land,” Yonah said softly. “And although it’s hardly what I’d call northern, I believe I can speak on behalf of the royal family and say that they would be honored to call this land and their castle ‘north.’” She beckoned to Leafa. “Now, come up here girl. Let’s make this official.” Slowly, Leafa walked uphill, coming to a stop right in front of Yonah. “Give me your hand.” Leafa obeyed. “Impa, you as well.” Impa placed her hand on top of Yonah and Leafa’s hands. “Here we lay two kinds of foundation,” Yonah declared. “A foundation for the castle that shall hereby be called North Castle, and the foundation for a new age in the history of both our people.”

The screams filled the air more than the flames. The dark village of Kasuto was ablaze and overflowing with panic. No one could be entirely certain how it began. Who had been the first to scream? Who had been the first to fall? Now, all that was certain was that they were under attack. Shadowy figures, riding on horseback, galloped through the streets, wielding torches like swords. They lit buildings, people, and trees indiscriminately, the orange flames glowing off of their dark, half hidden faces with steely, determined eyes that showed neither mercy nor regret.

“Farore, defend us!” a villager cried, holding his hands up to the heavens imploringly.

“You’re under the dominion of Din now!” one of the riders shrieked in a shrill, decidedly feminine voice. She cantered past the hapless villager, lighting the back of his coat on fire as she made her way deeper into the fray.

Everyone knew it was the Gerudo right away. Aside from the customary Gerudo trappings adorning their horses, it was very evident that all the riders were female; all except for one. This was puzzling. They couldn’t tell what sort of man would be able to lead the Gerudo. Or, perhaps more appropriately, what sort of man the Gerudo would willingly submit themselves to. Yet it was clear that the leader of the raid was male and he didn’t seem terribly interested in the usual Gerudo bounty. They weren’t looking for gold or Rupees. They seemed to be arbitrarily out for destruction, burning everything in sight without cause.

“Reduce this village to a pile of ash!” the leader roared, his gravelly voice booming through the night.

“Let no man or woman escape!” the Gerudo’s lieutenant shouted at the top of her lungs.

“Or child,” the leader added with a sneer.

“Death to Kasuto!” they all chanted. “Death to Kasuto!”

It was all just so senseless! The Gerudo had begun to make a game out of it. Several of the lower ranking warriors lined up the men of the village in front of the well, taking turns to see who could knock the most into the gaping mouth of the well. They threw Deku seeds and various stolen goods from the sundry shop, looking almost as if they were enjoying a game at a carnival, not carnage.

An enormous mass of escaping villagers formed near the gate. They trampled over each other, screaming and panicking, each trying to be the first to get away. In the end, they were only destroying each other, making the work easier for the few Gerudo warriors that guarded the front gate. No one would escape. They saw to that, clubbing any fortunate individuals who happened to get through the mob.

Natalya watched from the second story window of her flat. In the other room, her small son was wailing, the noise frightening him out of his wits. She was frightened too, though she tried to push those feelings aside. The Gerudo had not yet reached her small quarter of the town, but she could see them coming. She also saw, clearly enough, that there was no escape through the gates.

“What are they looking for, momma?” her young daughter, barely a toddler, asked, staring out at the scene, more fascinated than horrified.

“I don’t know,” Natalya replied.

“Do you think they want the treasure?”

Natalya shook her head. “No.” She knew well enough where the village treasure was kept. The Gerudo band had burned the building to the ground without a thought, upon entering the town.

“What are we going to do, momma?”

“Go get your coat,” Natalya instructed her child. The girl nodded obediently and scampered off.

Closing the curtains, Natalya turned away from the window. She leaned over to blow out the oil lamp on a table nearby. Already, her mind was racing as she recalled the words of advice her husband had once given her. If the village should ever be attacked, he had said, she should get the children and herself out through the trees. There was a forest just north of the village. No gates opened to it, but the wood work around the village was incomplete there and one could easily slip through the fence.

With an air of determination, Natalya crossed the room, going into the nursery where her infant son was screaming at the top of his tiny lungs. She walked to his cradle and picked him up, bouncing him lightly in an attempt to calm the shrill cries. All too well, she knew they would easily be discovered, even in the darkness of the forest, if this continued. Fortunately, her son immediately calmed down, sensing the presence of his mother.

“Momma!” the daughter screamed suddenly. Clutching her baby to her shoulder, Natalya raced out of the nursery and into the sitting room. Her daughter had parted the curtains and was peeking through them. Over her head, Natalya could see the Gerudo riders getting closer and closer.

“It’s time to go,” Natalya said, holding her hand out. Immediately, her daughter came and took her hand. The little family turned and ran, not a moment too soon. With a shuddering crash, a stone, coated in kerosene and blazing with fire came flying through the window, shattering the glass and catching everything soft and fabric about the room ablaze.

“Momma!”

“Come quickly,” Natalya said, trying to keep her voice calm. Clutching both her children, she took off at a run. They raced out of the small apartment and down the dark, narrow staircase, the sound of the Gerudo war cries bouncing off of the walls and echoing in their ears.

On the main floor, the landlord and his family were assembled. “Natalya!” he called out to her. “Quickly, we’ve got to get out of the village.”

“We can’t go to the gate,” she told them. “We have to head toward the forest. It’s our only chance.”

“The forest?” the landlord’s wife shrieked indignantly, hugging her teenage son to her side.

“Do as she says,” the landlord declared. He raced over to Natalya and picked up her daughter, carrying her on his hip. “Quickly!”

The tiny group set out, taking the back door. If it weren’t for the noise, and the eerie orange glow in the sky, it would have been like any other ordinary night. This part of the village was still untouched, a clear before picture to the devastation that was to come.

Holding her son with all her might, Natalya led them to the dark shadows of the forest. A low whistling suddenly caught their attention. Natalya stopped and turned to look up. Behind them, another catapulted stone, blazing with fire, came flying. “Get out of the way!” she shouted, running off to the left. She buried her face in her baby’s swaddling, cringing as she heard the stone impact with the ground. Still, she kept running, her breath becoming labored as a sharp pain stung her side. Her son was crying again. She could feel his hot tears against her cheek. “Don’t cry,” she begged him softly. “Everything will be all right, don’t cry.”

Finally, Natalya had to rest. She slowed to a stop and turned around to look behind her. Panic leaped up into her chest. For the first time, she realized that she and her son were alone. There was no sign of the landlord’s family or her daughter. For a moment, Natalya decided upon the worst, but it occurred to her that they must have taken a right while she took a left. Silently, she offered up a brief, sincere prayer to Farore, begging the goddess to protect them.

Another loud crash quickly reminded Natalya that there was no time for prayer. Before her, she could see the fence with several substantial openings into the forest. Hiking up her skirts with one hand, she took off at a sprint, though there was barely any strength left in her delicate frame. The clip clop of horses’ hooves haunted her from behind. They were gaining on her, even if they didn’t know she was there yet. Staunchly, Natalya resolved to die before she would let them harm her son.

She was at the fence now. With the horses ringing in her ears, she dropped to her knees, thrusting her baby through one of the holes and gently placing him on the soft forest soil. There was no way that she could climb through the opening herself, so she stood and started racing along the fence, looking for a way to get across herself and meet up with her child on the other side.

“Look!”

Natalya’s eyes shot up as she saw several Gerudo riders. One of them had spotted her and was pointing. In that instant, Natalya knew that she would never see her son again. She had only one choice, and that was to run. Run as far away from the forest as possible in the hopes that no one would know she had left her baby there. The goddesses only knew what would become of him, but Natalya would not be the cause of his demise. She would never lead the Gerudo to him.

“Death to all Gerudo!” she shrieked, gathering up her skirts again. Immediately, under the angry and indignant grunts of the riders, she took flight, running away from the fence and toward the northern gate of the village. Already, she knew that this would be the last night of her life. Somehow, that didn’t haunt her as much as it should have. At least her son would survive. She was determined that he would. She just couldn’t allow herself to believe otherwise.

From the forest, a pair of bright green eyes watched Natalya’s flight. The brave woman was hopelessly out numbered and the Gerudo riders easily overtook her with their swift mares. The leader of the pack grabbed the hapless woman by the hair and kicked her horse with her spurs. Immediately, the obedient mare began trotting off, dragging poor Natalya along the ground and into the brightness of the burning village.

Several more eyes appeared to watch the scene. The forest had been awakened by the noise, its inhabitants gathering together near the border to watch. They knew they couldn’t help, of course. This was strictly forbidden. Helpless as they were, however, they quickly realized that there was a creature even more helpless in their midst. Natalya’s son was wailing now, lacking his mother’s protective arms to comfort him. His cries filled the forest, drawing its inhabitants closer. They eyed this strange creature, wondering at his unusual form and the ghastly noise he was making.

“What should we do?” one of them asked.



Impa thought she knew a thing or two about pain, but this was beyond anything she had ever experienced in her lengthy career as a warrior. She felt as if she were being ripped apart, inside out. Though noted for being able to keep her wits about her in a battle situation, she found that she had lost all control of her own voice. She shouted and groaned involuntarily, drowning out all other sounds, except, perhaps, for the racing of her heart. It felt as though any second, it would burst from her chest.

The room felt slightly surreal, in part because of the sound. As Impa looked around her, the colors and shapes swirled together a bit, blurring reality. She could sense Glas by her side. He was saying something, but she couldn’t tell what it was. All she knew was that he was using his calm, rational voice, because the lines of his face were slack and his gentle eyes looked at her with deep concern. There was someone else in the room, hidden from Impa’s warped sight. All she could see of this stranger were the shadows she cast on the floor in the bright moonlight. Occasionally, one of her hands would appear, reaching into a pack, but it would disappear again. The healer, Impa remembered. That’s who it was.

“Impa,” Glas’ voice managed to break through the din as Impa’s hoarse voice gave out. “Stay calm.”

“Calm?” Impa repeated with a laugh. “Calm?”

Glas gently pressed a cold washcloth to her forehead. Droplets of water ran down her neck and shoulders, sinking into her hot skin. “You know, it’s a good thing you’re the warrior.”

She laughed bitterly. “Shut up.”

Impa didn’t mean to snap at Glas, but her anger just went beyond her control. Of all the nights, this was the one when she was most needed at North Castle. News had reached them only a few hours earlier than Kasuto was under attack by a Gerudo raiding party. Although it was many hours away, Impa’s instincts immediately told her to get to North Castle as quickly as possible, should the Gerudo decide to take the journey down to this part of the world. Several months back, the King’s wife had given birth to a healthy daughter named Zelda. This was Impa’s new charge and it was her duty to protect the young princess at all costs.

She had practically been halfway out the door before she was forced to stop, realizing that her robes were damp. Still, she had tried to leave, but Glas, perhaps for the only time in his life, won out on the argument as the great, searing pain began to rack Impa’s distended body.

“Sorry,” Glas said quietly, looking properly chidden. He turned to go to the nightstand, but Impa reached out, grasping his arm.

“Don’t,” she told him gently.

Glas nodded, returning to her side once again. “I was just going to get some cold water.”

“I don’t need cold water,” Impa scoffed weakly.

“Certainly not,” the healer agreed from somewhere beyond Impa’s sightlines. “Where’s the hot water?”

“Kaya!” Glas shouted out to the doorway. “Kaya, hurry up!”

“A watched pot never boils!” Kaya’s cheerful voice shouted back from the adjacent room.

“And your sense of inappropriately timed humor never fails,” Glas shot back indignantly.

“Not now!” Impa barked at him.

“Sorry,” he repeated.
“It’s just that I –” A fresh burst of pain erupted, interrupting whatever it was she was going to say. Impa clutched her swollen belly, letting out a groan of agony that echoed off the cottage walls.

“There’s no time for this,” the midwife clucked.

“What?” Glas asked.

“What?” Impa snapped after him.

“This baby is in a bit of a rush to be born, it seems,” she replied, setting aside a few instruments that Impa could only guess at the purpose of. She picked up a terrycloth blanket from the floor. “This is it.”

“Oh gods,” Impa moaned, turning to look at Glas.

“You are my warrior,” Glas told her firmly, brushing her hair away from her pale, sweaty face. “There is nothing you can’t do. Including this.”

“Just remember, this was your idea,” she quipped hoarsely, bracing herself against the bed.

This was partly true. The fact of the matter was that Impa had been adamantly against the notion of family from the day she met Glas. She knew that it would distract her from her duties to the royal family, a notion that was strengthened on the day she was made royal nursemaid and bodyguard to the young Princess Zelda. But by then, the wheels were already in motion. At first, she had managed to keep her condition from Glas, Kaya, and the others, but things grew more difficult as time passed on. Impa still managed to conceal herself from the royals, electing to wear loose fitting robes rather than her Sheikah uniform. As a nursemaid, she was able to justify it. After all, wouldn’t the uniform merely frighten the young princess?

Glas, of course, was thrilled at the notion of becoming a father and this somewhat nullified Impa’s misgivings. After all, his duties were quite different from hers. He would better be able to provide for a child than she and to be certain, he was more than willing to take on the additional responsibilities. Impa only wished that it were possible for him to take on some of the pain that was now gripping her body.

“Just a little more,” the midwife told Impa, her voice half lost as phantom echoes filled Impa’s ears.

She knew Glas was gripping her hand tightly, but she couldn’t feel it. Hot tears began forming menacingly in the corners of her eyes. Impa steeled herself, screaming in her brain not to cry. She would not allow herself to become weak. Not now. To combat the tears, she let out a booming Sheikah war cry, her lungs burning with pain at the sudden and unexpected strain.

When she at last ran out of air, she let her scream die and was startled to find it replaced by a new sound. The crisp cries of a baby suddenly filled the tiny bedroom. Kaya came rushing to the doorway. She looked down and immediately made a face of great disgust. “Ew…”

“Kaya, out!” Glas snapped in a voice that wasn’t recognizable as his own. After all, Glas never raised his voice at anyone. Kaya didn’t need to be told twice. With a yelp, she scampered out of the room.

Impa let out a low moan. “Is it over?” she asked weakly.

Glas had disappeared from sight, kneeling next to the invisible midwife. Impa could just see his shadow on the floor, moving very slowly. “Yes,” the midwife said after an interminably long moment.

“Good,” Impa wheezed, falling back against the mattress.

When Glas stood up, he was holding the terrycloth blanket, wrapped tightly around a small, pink form with a wide, gaping mouth that let forth shrill cries. “Ten fingers, ten toes,” the midwife said, finally appearing in Impa’s sightlines. She was a stout, sturdy matron with long white hair pulled back into a loose bun at the base of her neck. “No twin,” she added.

Smiling vaguely, Impa turned her head to look at Glas. “You’re lucky,” she told him wryly.

“Why?”

“If there was a twin, I’d probably kill you.”

Glas chuckled, sitting on the side of the bed. “I wouldn’t put that past you,” he told her.

“I need to sleep,” Impa murmured drowsily.

“You can’t sleep yet,” the midwife told her. “You still need to pass the placenta. Then you can sleep.”

“More?” Impa moaned.

“Don’t worry, this is rather anticlimactic.” With that, the midwife disappeared from sight again.

“We have a daughter,” Glas told Impa fondly.

“I hope you’re not disappointed,” Impa replied. “That it’s not a son.”

“Not at all,” Glas assured her.

“Good, because we’re not doing this again.”

He smirked. “Deal.”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to walk tomorrow,” she mumbled. “And they’ll need me at the castle.”

“They can do without you for a day,” Glas sighed. “Zelda’s got a wet nurse and you need to rest.”

“There was an attack on Kasuto. I’m going to have to be there.”

“We’ll argue about this in the morning,” Glas muttered.

“Deal.”

By this point, the child had calmed down, wails turning into soft whimpers. “What are we going to call her?” Glas asked, examining his newborn daughter’s face. She looked very much like Impa, but she had a tiny tuft of mousy brown hair, much like his.

“I don’t know,” Impa said. “What do you want to call her?”

“We could name her after your mother,” he suggested.

Impa made a face, as if she had eaten a lemon. “No,” she declared with no uncertain terms.

“Oh yes, I forgot how you felt about your mother.”

“I would never dream of cursing a child with the name Klymene.”

“All right,” Glas said with a nod. “No Klymene.”

A heavy silence filled the room. Impa sensed that she was supposed to make a suggestion, but to be honest she had no idea what to say. She had no idea how to go about naming something. Her horse’s name was just Filly. “How about Yonah?” she asked finally, as she found herself wondering how she was going to explain this situation to the Sheikah leader, Glas’ grandmother.

Glas shook his head. “No, it’s not right.”

“Not right,” Impa repeated, having no idea how he knew what was and was not right.

“Maybe we could name her after my mother,” Glas said after awhile.

“Shayla?”

“Shayla?”

“I like it,” Impa said at last. She wondered how sincere she sounded, but right now, she was too tired to care.



Leafa knelt down before a mound of dirt. It was covered with the carcasses of old, dried out flowers. To these, she added a fresh bouquet, a handful of lilies she had picked on her walk over. Lovingly, she caressed the dirt, feeling the grains run through her fingers. “Hello, Sojef,” she said softly.

He had died nearly ten years ago, following the disastrous first contact of the Sheikah and the people of the Kakariko village. Not much of a span of time, to be certain, yet Leafa felt as though it had been in another lifetime, back when she was the young Basileaus of her people, just beginning her career as a public servant.

“What was I telling you about, the last time I came?” she wondered. “I told you about the new child Robia and Tully had, I remember that. They named her Molly Leafa, after me. Leonid is just thrilled to be the big brother. You should see him. He runs through the village, making sure that everyone gets out of Robia’s way when she walks with Molly. It’s adorable.”

Softly laughing, Leafa looked up. Her eyes fell on the enormous silhouette of North Castle, looming off to the north. All at once, her laughter died and she felt her chest deflate. She sank back down to her haunches. “Things have been so difficult here, Sojef.”

It was true, although Leafa hated to sound so dramatic. Looking at the castle though, she remembered all the hardships that had befallen her people. The shadow of the great castle was enormous and fell over the fields of the Kakariko village. Nothing grew there anymore. The land that had fed her ancestors for generations lay fallow and barren.

Of course, there was still enough food to go around. Her people, unable to harvest their own crops turned to other forms of vocation. Some of them began to concentrate on crafts, creating little trinkets and pieces of art that the Hylian tourists found to be quaint. They changed these for strange little stones called Rupees that Leafa and Tully would then use to purchase grain to feed the village.

Other villagers began to venture beyond the now gateless village of Kakariko, going into service for the Hylians who had settled around North Castle, creating a brand new town. There was plenty of work to be done, and the Hylians didn’t seem as equipped for manual labor as the villagers were. Grain could be earned by that avenue as well and Leafa supposed that she should have been grateful, and yet she wasn’t.

“It isn’t the same village you knew,” she told Sojef gently. “Things are so turned around that I can hardly recognize them.” She paused, reflecting on this statement. “Well, I’m sure it’s just me. I said it before and I’ll say it again, change is at the very heart of what we Humans are.”

“And here I thought it was broccoli.”

Leafa stood up, whirling around. For a moment, primal fear filled her head, but all that immediately dissolved into an enormous smile when she recognized the form of Kaya walking up the hill toward her. “Peace and long life, Kaya,” Leafa called, holding up her hands respectfully.

“Peace and long life,” Kaya responded, repeating the gesture.

“It’s been awhile,” Leafa laughed, dropping the pose to walk down the hill and meet Kaya halfway.

“Well, you know how it is. They like to keep us busy.”

“Indeed. What are you up to these days?”

Kaya smirked, striking her most heroic pose. “I have been given the sacred duty, nay, the privilege, of escorting diplomatic envoys to and from North Castle.”

“You don’t sound too thrilled by it.”

“Well, it’s not exactly the kind of thing I trained for. A little boring actually. But then again, it beats being fired at with a barrage of arrows. Or worse. Cleaning up the mess afterward.”

Leafa smiled. “And how is Glas?”

“Glas is good. He’s had his hands full lately. There’s been little call for a healer lately. Things have just been too bloody peaceful since the Gerudos profusely apologized for their attack on Kasuto. Glas has been branching out into diplomacy.”

“Well, then you can spend some time with him.”

Kaya laughed. “I think I see Glas more than he sees his wife.”

“How’s Impa?” Leafa asked, lowering her voice a little bit. She felt odd, mentioning Impa so close to Sojef’s grave. After all, it was the embarrassment from his horrible misunderstanding that had slowly eaten away at Sojef and driven him into an early grave.

“Oh, Impa. I’m sure I recognize that name. Yes, yes it sounds vaguely familiar.” Kaya paused to touch her chin in mock thoughtfulness. “It’s certainly ringing a bell. I think I once knew an Impa.”

Leafa pursed her lips. “I see.”

Kaya shrugged. “Impa’s pretty much all work and no play these days. She practically lives at the castle now. Glas has to beg her to come home before midnight most of the time.”

“She takes her duty very seriously.”

“Extremely.” Kaya rolled her eyes. “You know, I’m Sheikah, and I’m all about defending the royal family. I get that it’s a sacred duty and pretty much what we were made for, but…still…”

“Impa’s a bit of a zealot.”

“That’s putting it mildly.”

“Well, I hope she enjoys it.”

“I’m sure she does,” Kaya nodded. She paused for a minute, clearly debating something in her head. “How are things with you, Leafa?” she finally asked, a bit too carefully.

“Things have been…difficult,” Leafa replied diplomatically, uncertain of where this conversation was going.

“Difficult?”

“Well, the village has changed so much since we first made contact with you,” she answered.

“That’s for sure. I hear Tully married Robia.”

Leafa nodded. “They have two children now. A boy called Leonid. He’s about ten now. And they just had a daughter who they’re calling Molly.”

“Man, when did everyone grow up and have kids around us?” Kaya muttered absently.

A small frown formed on Leafa’s face. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, it just seems like everyone I know is married with kids now. Except for me of course. I was destined to die a spinster.”

The Basileaus smiled tightly. “There are worse fates.”

Kaya blinked as her error suddenly set in. “Oh! Leafa! I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to…well I just thought that…what I meant was…”

To ease the tension, Leafa forced a small laugh. “It’s all right,” she told her old friend. “I know you weren’t talking about me.”

“You’re still young, Leafa,” Kaya spat.

“Of course, of course.” Secretly, however, Leafa couldn’t bring herself to believe it. She was older than Kaya and well past thirty by this point. As Humans didn’t live as long as the Sheikah, Leafa was well aware that the best of her child bearing years were behind her and that the wrinkles forming around the corners of her eyes were destined to only grow deeper and deeper as time wore on.

“How’s the village?” Kaya asked quickly.

“It doesn’t feel the same,” Leafa admitted with a soft sigh. “The people aren’t as close as they used to be.”

“I’ve spotted a lot more Humans around the castle lately.”

“Well, we have to get our grain somehow,” Leafa said bitterly.

A heavy pause hung in the air. Kaya shifted her weight from one foot to the other, sensing the tension. “Well,” she said slowly, “I think it’s great. Great that the Hylians and Humans are able to get on in harmony.”

“Yes, that’s true.”

“How are your fields doing?”

“All the new fields have failed,” Leafa answered heavily.

“Well, that’s unfortunate. I’ll have to make sure the King knows that before he…” She trailed off.

“Before he what?” Leafa prompted her.

Kaya scowled, averting her eyes slightly. “There’s going to be a new series of proclamations made next week.”

Leafa shifted, trying to catch Kaya’s gaze again. “Proclamations of what nature?” she asked.

This seemed to unnerve Kaya even more. “Well…theKingisdemandingatithefromthevillage.”

Leafa blinked. “What?”

With a heavy sigh, Kaya repeated herself. “The King is demanding a tithe from the village.”

“A tithe?”

“He’s going to demand ten percent of your yielding.”

The Basileaus sputtered indignantly. “He can’t do that.”

“This is Hylian land now. He thinks he can.”

“But that’s absurd! My people lived on this land for generations before we made contact with you!”

“I know that!” Kaya snapped back. She paused, looking somewhat apologetic. “I mean, of course I know that. I tried to speak out on your behalf, but they just wouldn’t listen. I don’t really command respect, Leafa. No one wants to listen to me, even when I’m right.”

“I know you did,” Leafa sighed wearily. “But I suppose if anyone’s going to speak on behalf of my people, it should be me.” She ran her hands through her rust colored hair. “I’ll journey to the King myself.”



Glas and Shayla were at their favorite game. Shayla would turn away from Glas, covering her eyes with her hands. Glas, meanwhile, would slowly try and sneak up behind her, attempting to tag her on the shoulder. Shayla, however, would always manage to turn around just before he could touch her, so Glas would turn away, covering his eyes, while Shayla attempted to tag him. This game could go on for hours before one of them would finally manage to tap the other on the shoulder. This round, however, Glas was careful to make sure that Shayla always heard his approach. Then, while his back was turned, he could talk to her, playfully quizzing her.

“And who was the first queen of Hyrule?” he asked, his back turned and his eyes covered while his young daughter slowly crept up on him.

“I don’t remember,” she mumbled casually.

“Oh, come on, it’s an easy one.”

Shayla sighed insufferably, pausing to dwell on the question for a moment. “Queen Avril?” she guessed.

“Oh, Shayla, you know that’s not the answer. Think harder. The name of the first queen of Hyrule is the one with a D-name.”

“Oh!” Shayla cried, her round face lighting up. “Dasha Harkin?”

“Yes! Well done!”

She giggled. Suddenly, with all the ferocious force a nine year old could conjure, she lunged forward, wrapping her arms around her father. With a laugh, Glas gave in and fell to the floor, allowing her to tackle him. “I win!” she shouted triumphantly, sitting on his chest.

“Now another one,” Glas said.

Her face crumpled up into a look of disgust. “No more questions, poppa,” she implored.

“Come, come,” Glas laughed, touching her face lightly, “If I don’t ask you questions, how are you going to learn?”

“Learning is boring!” she declared.

“Clearly not my daughter,” Glas chuckled. “Come on, answer another question. You can get this one, I’ll make it easy.”

“No more questions!”

“Well…you could always go to bed.”

Shayla sighed in a long suffering manner. “All right, poppa,” she decided. “One more question. But make it a really, really easy one.”

“Deal,” he agreed, offering her his hand, which she shook. “All right, one more question. I’d better make it a really good one.”

“But not hard,” Shayla reminded him.

“Right. Good, but not hard. Let me think.” He paused to legitimately ponder it for a moment. “Fine, I’ve got a really good, really easy one for you.”

“Okay!”

“Name the three Spiritual Stones.”

For a moment, Shayla scrunched up her face in concentration. Gradually, she relaxed, proclaiming in a proud voice, “The Zora Sapphire…”

“Good.”

“The Kokiri Emerald…”

“Good!”

“And the Gerudo Ruby!”

Glas fought to keep his face from falling. “The Goron Ruby,” he corrected her gently.

“Well, I knew that,” she shrugged. For a moment, she paused. “Why don’t the Gerudo have a Spiritual Stone?”

“Well, for the same reason the Humans don’t, I suppose.”

“Why?”

“They’re not worshippers of all our goddesses.”

“But I thought the Gerudo worshipped Din.”

“Yes,” Glas answered, “but they don’t worship Farore or Nayru. They don’t have balanced virtues.”

“Oh. Well, what about the Humans?”

“Centuries ago, the Humans worshipped a god known as Joxom, the harvest god. They used to believe that he created worms and horses and cows.”

Shayla wrinkled her nose at the mention of the worms. “Ew…”

Glas chuckled. “But they stopped worshipping their god a long time ago. And now, it seems, a lot of them are beginning to recognize the divinity of Din, Nayru, and Farore.” They heard the door to the cottage open, scraping against the carpeted floor. Footsteps, muffled slightly, began to come their way. “Someone’s home,” Glas said, sitting up and pulling Shayla into his lap.

A moment later, Impa appeared in the bedroom, pulling off her long purple cloak. “Momma!” Shayla cried happily, bouncing up to her feet and running over to hug Impa’s legs. “I made up a song today! Listen, listen, I’ll sing it for you.” She began to sing, sounding horribly off key, yet with the pure gusto that could only be created by an enthusiastic child. “The cat is a yo-yo. The yo-yo is red! I love the cat. I love the yo-yo!”

Impa looked down, a bit startled. “It’s after midnight,” she said, more to Glas than to Shayla. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

“I told her she could stay up until you got home,” Glas explained, rising to his feet and crossing over to his wife.

“It’s horribly late,” Impa declared. “Off to bed.” She patted Shayla’s hair lightly and then took a step back, gesturing to the door.

“Okay,” Shayla sighed.

“Shayla,” Glas called.

The girl scampered over to Glas as he leaned down, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Goodnight, poppa!”

He ruffled her hair. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, momma!” she called over her shoulder as she ran out of the room. A moment later, they heard the door to her bedroom close.

“It’s not good for her to stay up so late,” Impa said, stifling a yawn.

“I didn’t think you’d be home so late.”

“Sorry,” Impa muttered, crossing over to him. She gave him a tender kiss, resting her hands on his chest.

“We have to talk about Shayla,” he said softly.

“Now?”

“Impa, we can’t keep putting it off. Her tenth birthday is in a few months and she still can’t remember the difference between the Moon Pearl and the Pendants of Virtue. How will she pass her first trial of initiation?”

“We were both confused at that age. Our parents probably wondered the same thing about both of us.”

“And her fighting?” Glas raised an eyebrow. “Her skills are vastly behind the other Sheikah children of her age.”

Impa looked up at him. “I’ve never heard you so concerned about fighting before, Glas.”

“I’m not concerned about fighting. You know how I feel about violence. But I’m concerned about our daughter. Someone needs to teach her the Sheikah Way.”

“She’ll be fine,” Impa assured him.

“Who’s going to teach her? You know I can’t.”

She sighed softly. “I’ll ask Kaya to teach her a few things, if that’s what you want.”

“No, Impa, that’s not what I want.”

“Then what?”

“You should be the one teaching her.”

“Glas, please, I beg you, can we argue about this tomorrow? I’m absolutely exhausted.”

“Well, it’s late.”

“Things have been difficult at the castle.”

“Difficult how?” he asked, walking over to the bed and sitting down on it, resting his hands on his splayed knees.

“The Princess has been troubled.”

“Troubled?”

“By dreams. Nightmares.”

“About what?”

“She sees danger coming in the form of the Gerudo.”

“Well, that’s nothing new. The Gerudo have always been a problem. And they’ve been rather quiet the last few years.”

“The Gerudo Prince is scheduled to visit the King tomorrow,” Impa muttered, unlacing the ties that held her armor on.

“What’s his name?”

“Dragmire. Ganondorf Dragmire.”

“What’s he want with the King?”

“I have no idea.”

Glas pulled the sheets out, climbing under them. “Well, that isn’t necessarily bad. Maybe he wants to sue for peace?”

“Zelda’s dreams indicate otherwise. She sees him as a threat.”

“They’re just dreams, Impa.”

“She also sees hope.”

“Hope?”

“A Kokiri boy.”

“Kokiri? But they can’t even leave their forest.”

“I know. That’s what makes it all so strange.”

Impa walked out of the room, headed for the adjoining bathroom. As Glas sat there in bed, he wondered about her concerns. Never being one who believed much in dreams or prophecies, he felt slightly annoyed that Impa was harping on the dreams of a ten year old girl. He knew she took her duties seriously, so he supposed it was unkind for him to scoff. Still, a pang of resentment struck him. These days, it seemed like her duties were consuming her. He missed spending time with her. Time, he well knew, was a treasure not to be squandered.



Leafa knew that staring around with her mouth gaping open was undignified, but she simply couldn’t help it. In all her days on the face of the world, she had never seen anything as incredible as what she now beheld. She had entered the throne room of North Castle. Though the grand hall was less than austere, what it lacked was more than made up for now as she passed through the arched doorway.

A row of white, marble pillars flanked either side of the room, climbing high up into the sky, higher than anything Leafa had ever seen built by men. Billowing purple silks hung over the wall recesses. When the wind rippled through the room, Leafa could see that each silk covered a small alcove with a large window. Each window had iron tracery, depicting an image from Hylian lore; stories that Leafa couldn’t even conceive. A long red carpet led from the entry way to a dais on the opposite end of the room. The fabric of the carpet was plush, absorbing Leafa’s footsteps. She had traveled the castle barefoot, not knowing what decorum demanded, and her feet sank into the deep depths of the carpet.

On the dais were two thrones, one on the left for the King and a vacant seat on the right for the Queen. Leafa had heard that the Queen died tragically, some ten years ago while giving birth to her first and only child. The King made his presence known, however. He sat regally in his high backed chair, peering down at Leafa from his heights. He was a large man, his plump body draped in purple robes. A long, downy white beard spilled down from his chin over his chest and halfway to his naval. On his white head was a gold crown, studded with purple, red, and blue gemstones. Golden light filtered in through the stained glass window, falling over the King to give him an air of divinity. Leafa took a split second to examine the window itself. Most of it was little more than a mosaic of red, purple, and blue glass bits and pieces, but directly in the middle of the explosion of color, there was a symbol in golden yellow glass; three triangles forming a pyramid.

At the base of the dais, Leafa held her hands up in the traditional Human salute. Beside her, she sensed Tully do the same. All around the room, the courtiers stifled giggles, watching as the peculiar couple upheld their native traditions, blissfully ignorant of the custom of bowing to the King, fashionable among any civilized Hylians. “Peace and long life, your majesty,” Leafa said above their sniggering.

The King looked down at her with beady blue eyes. “Who are you?” he asked sternly.

Tully stepped forward. “Your majesty,” he addressed the King. “I present to you Leafa, Basileaus of Kakariko.”

The King glanced at one of his advisors. “Kakariko, that’s that Human colony, to the east, isn’t it?”

Leafa’s eyebrows shot up. “Colony?”

The advisor nodded to his King. “Yes, your highness.”

“I see.” The King stroked his beard absently. “I’m afraid I’m not familiar with the term. Basileaus? What does that mean?”

Stifling his indignation, Tully cleared his throat. “Basileaus is the term we use to refer to our leader,” he said tightly.

“Is that so?” The King appraised Leafa for a moment. “And you, my dear, are the leader of the colony?”

“Colony? I’m afraid I’m not familiar with the term,” Leafa replied.

“Well, a colony refers to an area that’s autonomously ruled under the monarchy and that sort of thing,” the King waved it off dismissively. “What brings you to my castle?”

For a moment Leafa paused. She considered making a back handed comment about the fact that she had never been invited to North Castle before, despite giving the Hylians permission to build it on her land, but she bit her lip. “I have come to speak to you about the tithe you intend to impose on my people.”

“Tithe? I haven’t announced that yet.”

“I was informed,” Leafa explained.

“By whom?”

“That’s beside the point, your majesty.”

“Is it? Well, what about the tithe?”

“I cannot permit you to impose it.”

“Permit me?” The King looked about at his subjects, properly indignant at the situation. “My dear girl, you are in no position to be forbidding me.”

“Basileaus,” Tully growled sharply. “You will address the Basileaus by her proper title.”

“I am king,” the King barked. “I will address my subjects as I like.”

“We are not your subjects!” Tully shouted, his rich voice echoing off of the marble columns.

“You live on my land.”

“It is not your –”

Leafa held out a hand to silence Tully. “The land cannot be owned by anyone,” she whispered before turning to face the King. “Regardless of who the land belongs to, the tithe cannot be imposed. My people would be unable to meet your demands. We would starve to death.”

“You’ll find that there are plenty of ways of providing for the tithe and your people,” the King told her.

“Our farmlands are failing,” she said. “We cannot grow anything in the shadow of your castle and all the other fertile areas have been taken over by your people. Ten percent of what we grow is ten percent too much.”

“I am more than willing to accept the tithe in the form of a monetary sum, as need be.”

“Monetary sum?”

“Yes. Shall we say, five hundred Rupees?”

“Your majesty, we do not use your currency.”

“It should be easy enough for you to assimilate into our society. I know there are plenty of job opportunities in our city.”

“What would you have me do? Order my people to give up the way of life that we’ve known for centuries in order to earn shiny stones?”

“Change is inevitable.”

“Yes,” Leafa agreed, “when it is made willingly and for the right reasons. But what you would have me do is –”

“Perfectly logical,” he interrupted her.

She sighed, leaning her head to one side to examine the King. “Then there’s no changing your mind?”

“I am a king,” he declared. “I never change my mind.”

Leafa could feel Tully tense by her side. She turned to give him a quick, warning gaze, before turning back to the King. “Let it be known to the gods that I came here to do my duty to my people.”

“Be on your way,” the King told her dismissively. He waved his hand, shooing her in the direction of the door.

Gathering up all the dignity she could muster, Leafa turned around, taking the slow, long march back along the red carpet. As she walked, she could feel the courtiers staring at her. How rustic she looked compared to them. In her simple homespun top and skirt, she lacked all the proper baubles and bangles that attended upon nobility in the world of the Hylians. As she made her way to the door, she could hear them laughing at her, pointing at her bare feet and unadorned hair, that grew wild, uncombed, falling around her shoulders.

Before arriving at the door, it was pulled open by a page. On the other side, Leafa found herself face to face with a foreign envoy. She had never seen Hylians like these before. There were five in the pack, four of them Amazonian women with fiery red hair, almost as wild as her own. The women flanked a man in the center, with equally untamed red hair, although he seemed somewhat bald on top. These Hylians were different from the others Leafa had met. They seemed to have a bit of a wild streak to them, and their dress evoked thoughts of the desert.

Tully pulled Leafa off to one side as this company came marching in procession down the carpet, lest she be trampled. “Ganondorf Dragmire, of the Kodiak Gerudo Pride,” the page announced.

“Your highness,” the man said in a gravelly voice as his party approached the throne.

“Come on, Leafa,” Tully said quietly, touching her shoulder. Together, the two of them walked out of the room, salvaging what little dignity they had left. The knight who had first escorted them along the corridors of the castle was gone now and once the doors of the throne room slammed shut, Tully and Leafa found they were quite alone in the castle.



The castle was absolutely buzzing with activity today. Frankly, Impa would rather have taken her young charge off to the field for some breathing space, but for some reason, Princess Zelda insisted on staying near her father this morning. Of course, the young girl wasn’t allowed near the throne room while he was hearing petitions, so Impa lead her down the corridor toward the courtyard.

“Impa?” Zelda asked thoughtfully, tilting her head to one side in a rather catlike gesture she had picked up several years back.

“Yes?” Impa answered, looking down.

“What do you think Ganondorf Dragmire wants with my father?”

“I don’t know,” she replied truthfully.

“Do you think it has something to do with the attack on Kasuto?”

“The attack on Kasuto? That was nearly ten years ago. How did you hear about that?”

“I’ve heard some of the courtiers talking about it from time to time,” the Princess said absently.

“What of it?”

“Some of the survivors say that the Gerudo Pride that began the attack was led by a man. Do you think it could be this Dragmire?”

“I don’t know,” Impa sighed. “I’m afraid I wasn’t there when it happened.” A twinge of guilt passed over Impa’s face and she hid it from the Princess, looking out ahead of her.

“I think the boy in my dream was from Kasuto,” Zelda muttered.

Impa paused, looking down again. “I thought you said he was a Kokiri.”

“Well, he was dressed like one. And he had a fairy with him. But I don’t think he was Kokiri. They couldn’t leave the forest, after all.”

“Perhaps,” Impa shrugged.

It never ceased to amaze her how composed and mature Zelda was. Although only a girl of ten, she bore herself like her mother, the Queen, always with dignity, always with grace. Unlike other children, Zelda never seemed interested in silly entertainments or trifles. She was a thoughtful child, always analyzing the situation around her. When she was in a public sphere, she was deathly silent, but Impa could tell from looking into the girl’s eyes that she was absorbing everything around her.

Today, for some reason, she seemed more regal than usual. Perhaps it was her clothing. Zelda’s dressers had put her in a pink and white gown, bearing the Hylian royal crest in gold and red thread. On her head, she wore a dignified headdress that tucked away her corn silk tresses, making her look a bit older than normal. Aside from her dress, she seemed much more reserved than natural for a child of her age. This immediately caused Impa great suspicion.

“Your majesty?” she said after a moment.

“Yes, Impa?”
“Have you had more dreams?”

Zelda was silent for awhile. Again, she seemed to be analyzing the question in her unusual manner. Finally, she nodded slightly. “I had one last night,” she admitted softly.

They passed the throne room and the doorway to the courtyard came into sight. “I want you to tell me exactly what you dreamed,” Impa said firmly.

“It was the same as always,” the Princess replied.

“Tell me anything that was different.”

She frowned for a moment. “There was one thing.”

“What?”

“The boy, the one standing in the shaft of light, he had something in his hands this time.”

“What did he have in his hands?”

“I can’t say for certain,” Zelda responded, “but I think…I think it was the Kokiri Emerald.”

“The Spiritual Stone?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that’s interesting.”

Zelda turned away from her companion, glancing out one of the windows to the courtyard. She was silent for a moment. “Father doesn’t believe me,” she murmured quietly.

“You’ve told him about your dreams?”

“Yes. He just thinks I’m imagining it.” Another scowl settled on her delicate features. “Impa?”

“Yes?”

“Do you know where the Ocarina of Time is kept?”

Impa was slightly taken aback by this question. “Yes,” she said slowly. “In the artifacts room upstairs.”

“I’d like to see it later.”

“As you wish. I can take you there after we –”

“Impa!”

Both Impa and Zelda turned around. Equally surprised, they saw Glas huffing and puffing his way down the corridor. He was dressed in ceremonial Sheikah robes, his long hair pulled back at the base of his neck with a purple ribbon. “Glas,” Impa mumbled.

“I need to speak with you.”

“Glas, I’m with –”

“Go on,” Zelda told her. “I’ll just go outside.”

“But Princess, I –”

“I can stand to be alone in my own courtyard for a few moments, Impa,” Zelda insisted. With that, she turned around and vanished out into the sunlight.

Glas walked over to Impa. “Was that…?”

“Yes.” Impa rounded on him. “What are you doing here?”

“There’s a crisis up in the mountains,” Glas said, taking Impa’s shoulders in his hands. “Yonah’s sending a Sheikah envoy to help.”

“What’s the matter?”

“Apparently, the Gorons have reason to believe that their leader has been abducted.”

“The Goron leader is a man named Darunia,” Impa said absently. “I’ve met him before, he’s a good man.”

“Yes, I know. Which is why we need to help them, if we can.”

She frowned slightly. “And you have to go?”

“There are so few of us left. Everyone else is occupied with royal business. Kaya’s coming with me.”

“Thus assuring a diplomatic failure,” Impa deadpanned.

Glas smirked. “Give her some credit. She did help us out of a tight spot during a certain first contact situation.”

“Of course…” Impa blinked suddenly. “Who’s going to watch Shayla? If Kaya’s going with you…”

“She’s going to have to stay here with you,” Glas answered.

“What? No. No that’s utterly impossible.”

“Impa!”

“I’m sorry, Glas. But do you have any idea how difficult that will be?”

“You’re watching after one child. Another shouldn’t be too terrible. And Shayla isn’t high maintenance. She can feed and dress herself.”

“But suppose someone suddenly asks about her? What am I going to say?”

“Is it so shameful to say that you’re watching after your own daughter for awhile?”

“They’ll think I’m not taking my job seriously.”

“I’m certain they won’t.”

She closed her eyes for a moment. “All right, all right, bring Shayla to the castle.”

“I already have,” he replied with a grin. “Kaya’s watching her for a few moments.”

“Kaya’s corrupting my child no doubt. She’s probably…” Impa trailed off as her eyes suddenly wandered to the window. Sitting in the courtyard, she saw Zelda. But the Princess wasn’t alone. She was with a young boy, one Impa had never seen before. His dress was shabby and peasant like and immediately, Impa took alarm.

Glas had followed her gaze. “He’s just a child. Relax.” He reached out and took Impa’s shoulders, turning her away from the window.

“What’s he doing out there? He’s not permitted here!”

“Relax,” Glas said soothingly.

Impa sighed. “How long are you going to be gone, Glas?”

“I don’t know. Why? Will you miss me?”

She smacked his arm. “That isn’t funny. Of course I’m going to miss you.”

He smiled gently. “I’m glad to hear it. I’m very loveable, you know. Everyone says so.”

The door to the throne room suddenly slammed open. Out from the room marched five Gerudo warriors, four female and one male. Without paying much attention to the Sheikahs standing in the middle of the hallway, they marched away in the opposite direction, the male pausing only briefly to throw an angry glare at the window. Clearly, this meeting had not gone as planned.

“You are incorrigible,” Impa whispered as the noisy footsteps of the Gerudo party receded into the distance.

“I know. That’s why you love me so much.”

Slowly, Impa allowed herself to smile. “Do I?”

“Well, I certainly love you.”

“I suppose I love you too.”

“Oh? You suppose?”

“Sometimes I forget.”

Glas leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers. “Well,” he whispered quietly, his voice harkening back to a time ten years ago. “I’ll just have to remind you.” He kissed her tenderly.

“Don’t be away too long.”

“I won’t be,” he promised. With that, he backed away, taking one last amorous look at his wife before turning around and disappearing around a corner.

Impa sighed softly, watching him leave. Although her lips were still warm from his kiss, she forced herself to shake her head, pushing aside all the feelings that were welling up in her chest. Clearing her throat, she squared her shoulders, turning to face the courtyard with staunch resolution. There was work to be done. She would see about this strange boy who had the nerve and the audacity to sneak an unauthorized visit with Princess Zelda.



“Disgraceful!” Tully snorted, balling his hands up into fists at his sides. “That’s what it is. An utter humiliation. I don’t know how you could stand there and take it, Leafa!”

“What would you have me do?” Leafa hissed back. “Jump up onto the dais and throttle him in front of all his courtiers and bodyguards?”

“I would have done it if you had ordered me to,” Tully replied bitterly. “Or even if you hadn’t stopped me.”

“Because violence easily resolves everything,” Leafa muttered.

They had been wandering the corridors of the castle for half an hour now. With no one to escort them out, they found themselves somewhat lost. The people they passed only gave them disdainful looks, so Leafa resolved that they would find their own way out, rather than suffer the humiliation of having to speak with any of these Hylians. Unfortunately, the castle was a veritable labyrinth to two Humans more accustomed to the simplistic huts of the Kakariko village.

“Leafa, he claimed our village for his own.”

“I know, Tully,” she sighed. “I know.”

“What are we going to do now?”

She scowled. “I wish I had an answer.”

“This would never have happened if –”

“If I hadn’t given them permission to build their castle so close to our lands,” Leafa finished for him.

“I wasn’t going to blame you,” Tully said quietly.

She nodded slightly. “I know. I just wanted to say it so you wouldn’t have to dance around the subject.”

“Why did you agree to let them?”

“Because we only met the Sheikah. We didn’t know what the other Hylians would be like.” She paused for a moment. “And at the time, I genuinely believed that we were ready to enter into a larger world.”

Tully was silent for a moment. “I felt so too,” he admitted at long last. “At the time.”

“As did many others. I did what I believed would be best for the village. How was I to know about the arrogance of their King?”

They had come to a chamber that neither remembered. It was a small, alcove off to one side of the hustle and bustle of the great hall. The walls and ceiling were constructed of the same stone that made up the outside of the castle. Three of the walls of the hexagon, the ones opposite the door, had large stain glass windows, each one depicting a different image of the Hylian goddesses. When Leafa looked down, she realized that they were treading on an engraved map of Hyrule. She sighed softly. Her foot was directly on top of Kakariko.

“What’s to become of us, Leafa?” Tully asked quietly, looking down at her foot with a forlorn expression.

“I don’t know,” Leafa answered, slowly removing her foot. As she did, she realized that engraved on the village were several small icons, depicting Human males as barbarian savages, wearing loincloths and hunting wild animals with spears and Human females as completely naked, dancing around a fire.

“Is this how they see us?”

She nodded grimly. “I guess so.”

“Well, let them.”

Leafa looked up at him. “What?”

“I say we return to our isolation. When we let them build on our land, we said we wanted to become part of the larger world, not submit to it.”

“Tully, what you’re suggesting is impossible.”

“Why not? We lived for centuries without any contact with the Hylians. Why can’t we severe the links now?”

“For one thing, our people are living in their village now.”

“We can call them back or give them the option of staying with their newfound Hylian friends.”

“For another thing,” she continued over him, “the King now perceives us as part of his land. We can’t change his mind as quickly as our own.”

“Then we can’t try?”

“The world only spins forward,” Leafa told him gently. “We can’t go back to the way we were. We can only go forward.”

Tully leaned against the wall, running a hand through the cornrows covering his scalp. “Then…we pay the tithe?”

“I don’t see how we can avoid it.”

“And I don’t see how we can afford it,” he countered.

“Then…I suppose we’ll just have to take up the King’s offer and sacrifice our people to the workforce.”

“This is a terrible day in our people’s history.”

“I know,” she told him, reaching out to pat his arm comfortingly. “I know.” She had to choke back her own sobs. If Tully was putting on a brave front for her, the least she could do was return the favor.

They heard footsteps clambering down the hall. A moment later, the Gerudo envoy they had passed in the throne room appeared, marching in formation past the alcove where they were standing. They seemed to be prepared to go by without any acknowledgement of the Humans, but abruptly, the man leading the pack held up his hand. All of them stopped, following his gaze as he turned to look intently at Leafa and Tully.

“You are Basileaus Leafa of Kakariko?” the Gerudo man asked in a low, gravelly voice.

“Yes,” Leafa replied, pulling herself up to full height to face the stranger.

Touching his forehead, the Gerudo prince bowed respectfully to her. “Peace and long life, Basileaus,” he said.

Leafa blinked in surprise. Recovering quickly, she held up her hands in salute. “Peace and long life…?”

“Dragmire,” he supplied. “Ganondorf Dragmire.”

“Peace and long life, Ganondorf Dragmire,” she said courteously.

“I’ve heard about the treatment you’ve received at the hands of the Hylian King,” he told her.

“Oh…that…” Leafa scowled, the humiliation renewing itself in her memory, much against her wishes.

Ganondorf watched her carefully as his female companions exchanged looks that were completely unreadable. “I am sorry to hear of it.”

“Thank you very much,” she said, blinking in surprise. “I wasn’t aware that the plight of my people was widely known.”

“The Gerudo like to keep informed about what’s going on in North Castle,” he explained.

Tully cleared his throat loudly. “Oh.” Leafa turned to gesture to Tully. “My champion, Tully.”

“Peace and long life, Tully.”

“Peace and long life, sir,” Tully answered.

Absently, Ganondorf gestured to a woman on his left. “My lieutenant, Alpha Sarjenka of the Kodiak Gerudo Pride.”

“Peace and long life, Sarjenka,” Leafa said.

“Peace and long life,” Sarjenka replied in a rather droll voice.

“The way the King has treated the minorities of Hyrule has been appalling,” Ganondorf continued. “Something must be done about it.”

“I suppose so,” Leafa said quietly.

Ganondorf seemed to examine her for a moment, looking deep into her very heart. “Perhaps something is already underway,” he said softly. There was a tense silence which followed. Ganondorf watched Leafa, waiting to see her reaction, but she seemed to have none. Finally, at long last, he cleared his throat. “Of course, if action were taken against the King, I’m certain your village would be left unharmed.”

“I would hope,” Leafa answered.

“Peace and long life to you both,” Ganondorf said, imitating the gesture he had seen Leafa use earlier. Without further ado, he snapped his fingers once and the Gerudo envoy continued on through the hall, disappearing from sight.

When the echoes of their footsteps were stilled, Tully walked to Leafa’s elbow. “What do you think that meant?” he asked softly.

“I’m not sure,” she replied.

“It sounded to me like he’s planning an insurrection.”

“It’s possible.”

“You didn’t object.”

“Which led him to promise to spare our village.”

Tully scowled. “Do you really think something’s going to happen?”

“Well,” she said slowly, “if it is, at least it won’t be to us.”

“But what about the King?”



Shayla was doing her best to teach Kaya how to play her favorite game, but the Sheikah warrior simply refused to follow the rules. “No, no, no,” Shayla said with a sigh that sounded horrifically like her mother, “you can’t try to tag me when I’m sneaking up on you!”

“But you said the only way to get a point is to tag the other person,” Kaya said with a smile, peeking out from in between her fingers.

“You can’t score a point when it’s my turn,” Shayla insisted.

“Why not?” Kaya asked, grinning.

“Because it’s against the rules!”

Kaya dropped her hands away from her face. “Rules are meant to be broken, Shayla.”

“That’s not what momma says.”

“Well,” Kaya tilted her head to one side. “Of course not. It’s your mother’s job to teach you about rules and such. It’s your favorite aunt’s job to teach you about the fun stuff.”

“But Aunt Phebe says I should follow the rules too.”

Laughing brightly, Kaya picked up Shayla, swinging her through the air upside down. “I’m your favorite aunt,” she insisted.

Shayla squealed with delight. “Not you’re not!” she cried.

Kaya swung the girl from side to side. “We have a stubborn one here,” she mumbled, mimicking Impa’s voice. “It’s going to take a lot to break her.” She clutched Shayla’s ankles and bounced her. “Say I’m your favorite!”

“No!” Shayla shouted stubbornly.

“Say it!” Kaya insisted, bouncing her again.

“I won’t, I won’t, I won’t!” Shayla declared.

“Say it! Say, ‘My favorite aunt is Aunt –’”

“Kaya!” Glas appeared on the far end of the hall.

“Busted,” Shayla whispered.

“Kaya, put her down!” Glas came racing through the corridor, grabbing Shayla around the middle and pulling her away from Kaya.

Sighing, Kaya released Shayla’s ankles, relinquishing custody to her father. “We were just having fun,” she muttered.

“Fun is perfectly good,” Glas said, setting his daughter upright, on her feet once more. “When it doesn’t involved splitting my child’s head open.”

“I wouldn’t have dropped her,” Kaya insisted. She folded her arms, pausing for a moment before she continued. “What did Impa say?”

“Impa will look after Shayla while we’re gone.”

“Do you have to go, poppa?” Shayla asked, clutching the bottom of Glas’ robes in her tiny fists.

“Yes,” Glas replied, ruffling her hair, “I do.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s what Grandma Yonah ordered.”

“Why?”

“Because we need to go help the Gorons.”

“Why?”

“Because their leader is missing and we have to find him.”

“Why?”

“Because if we don’t, they’ll run out of food and start eating little girls!” Kaya cried. For emphasis, she spread out her fingers like claws, lunging forward at Shayla with a menacing growl. Shayla shrieked in delight.

Glas did not look amused. “Kaya…”

“I’m only joking,” Kaya sighed. “She didn’t believe it, did she? You’re too smart for that kind of talk, aren’t you, Shayla?”

“Yup!” Shayla declared firmly.

He chuckled slightly. Glas could certainly appreciate a good joke. As long as Shayla knew it was just a joke. “Will you give us a moment, Kaya?”

“Sure,” Kaya replied with a nod. “I’m going to go see if our horses are ready or not.”

“Thank you.”

“Try not to talk about anything too serious while I’m gone,” Kaya said, stooping over to give Shayla a quick peck on the cheek. With that, she went off down the hallway, vanishing around a bend.

Carefully, Glas knelt down in front of Shayla, taking both of her hands in his. “You’re going to be good while I’m gone, right?”

“Uh huh.”

“You won’t give your mother a hard time?”

“No…”

“Promise?”

“I won’t.”

“Promise.”

Shayla sighed. “I promise, poppa.”

“Good girl,” he said, smiling affectionately.

“Will you be gone a long time, poppa?”

“No,” Glas said. “It shouldn’t be too long at all.”

“Good.”

“And when I get back, you can tell me about all your adventures.”

“Adventures?”
“While you’re spending time in the castle.”

“I get to stay in the castle?” she asked, her eyes getting wild and wide with excitement.

“Of course. This is where your mother works.”

“Do monsters live here?”

He blinked in surprise. “Where did you get such a silly idea?”

“Aunt Kaya said that there’s a Skullwalltula living in the castle, below the master bedroom.”

“Aunt Kaya says a lot of things,” Glas muttered with a grimace. “No, Shayla, there are no monsters in North Castle.”

“Oh,” she mumbled with a look of disappointment.

“But you can spend the time with your mother. You can see all the important things she comes here to do every day.”

Shayla paused to consider this. “Can’t I go with you?” she finally questioned him innocently.

“Why would you want to do that?”

“I want to see the Gorons.”

“Why?”

“Because they’re so big!”

He smiled fondly. A part of him was rather proud of Shayla for remembering that Gorons were the largest of the Hylian races, even if she couldn’t tell the fictional Gerudo Ruby from the actual Goron Ruby. “I wish I could take you,” he told her truthfully, “but you know I can’t.”

“Grandma Yonah wouldn’t like it?”

“No.”

Shayla shrugged. “Well, that’s okay,” she decided. “You can tell me all about it when you get back.”

“On my honor,” he said, dragging a finger across his heart. “Now give your father a hug.”

“Okay!”

She surged forward, wrapping her arms around Glas’ neck. He smiled, patting her back lightly. “That’s my girl.”

“I love you, poppa,” she whispered in his ear.

“I love you, Shayla,” he replied.

Quickly, she kissed his cheek then took a step back, a big, broad smile glowing from her face. Some footsteps came echoing through the hallway and soon Kaya appeared once more. “Ready to get going?” she inquired, looking directly at the teary eyed Glas.

“Yes, yes,” he muttered, standing up and smoothing down the front of his plum colored robes.

“There aren’t any horses available, so we’ll have to go down the road to borrow a few from that ranch.”

“The one with that annoying hired hand?”

“That’s the one.”

Glas sighed. “We suffer for our duty.”

“Goodbye, Aunt Kaya,” Shayla said.

Kaya grinned broadly, leaning over to look at Shayla. “Goodbye, kiddo. Be good, okay?”

“You too, Aunt Kaya!”

“I’m always on my best behavior,” she sniffed, pretending to appear indignant, although she couldn’t hide her smile.

“Yeah, right, Aunt Kaya.”

A small chuckle escaped from Glas. “What can I say? She must have picked that up from her mother.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Kaya sighed. “Come on, we’ve gotta get out of here.”

Shayla continued to wave goodbye to Kaya and Glas, even after they had disappeared from her sight. Left alone in the hallway, she wondered what she was supposed to do now. With a shrug, she turned around, examining the walls for a few minutes before she grew bored. Sighing again, she walked over to a window, peering out to the courtyard below. Down there, she saw her mother, sitting by a rose bush with a girl roughly Shayla’s age. They seemed to be talking about something very serious and very important. Shayla could tell because they weren’t stirring a lot, but their mouths were moving. She leaned forward slightly, pressing her nose against the glass, wondering what could possibly be so important that a little girl, just like her, would sit so still!

Impa shifted her weight, reaching out a hand to touch the little girl’s shoulder. She moved forward, saying something that she clearly didn’t want anyone else to hear. The little girl nodded, glancing nervously over her shoulder. Suddenly, Impa reached into a little pouch hanging from her belt. From it, she removed a shiny black ocarina, which she offered to the little girl. The child took the ocarina, examining it closely before she finally nodded again. What was that about?



Leafa tore down the hallways of the castle, Tully struggling to keep up with his lithe leader. Her guilt was absolutely tearing her apart. How could she have permitted herself to feel so vindictive? She and Tully had been halfway out of the castle when it finally set in what she was doing; she was leaving the King to suffer a Gerudo attack, unaware of the dangers. What a terrible thing! Leafa simply could not allow herself to be so petty, in spite of the way she and her people had been treated by the disgraceful Hylian monarch.

Unfortunately, neither of them knew how to find the throne room again, so they raced through the corridors, trying to navigate the path once more. Several times, Leafa paused to ask a passerby, but generally, the courtier merely looked at her ragged clothing and her flushed face and burst into hysterical laughter. Frustrated, Tully once backed one such courtier into a wall, trying to make it clear how urgent the matter was. This merely served to scare the nobleman, thus confirming all the ridiculous stereotypes that had developed among the Hylians about the Human race.

“I don’t think they deserve this warning,” Tully said, and not for the first time since the frantic chase began.

“They’re not all like this,” Leafa called back to him. “Remember the Sheikah. Remember our friends.”

Tully couldn’t argue with that. The Sheikah had always been good to the Humans, especially their friends Kaya and Glas. And he supposed it was unfair to judge an entire society, based on the behavior of their upper crust. Still, a certain amount of resentment filled his head as he imagined, with horror, the base Hylians treating his son and daughter in the same manner they now abused their father. He wouldn’t allow it to happen.

“What are we going to say?” Tully asked.

“I don’t know.”

“All we know is that Dragmire made a threat against the monarchy and promised to spare our village.”

“Well, that’s something!”

“What if he doesn’t believe us?”

“That’s his folly,” Leafa replied. “We will have done our duty.”

“And what is our duty to them?”

“To treat them as we would have them treat us.”

“They won’t reciprocate.”

“That doesn’t matter in this.”

He sighed at her moralizing. “Two wrongs don’t make a right.”

Leafa slowed to a stop as they came to a fork in the path. “But three lefts make a right,” she muttered, glancing first to the left and then to the right.

“Which way?”

“Right,” she decided after a moment. Together, they took off once more, flying down the hall.

“This looks vaguely familiar,” Tully noted.

“What?”

He gestured to a few portraits on the wall, supposedly of famous monarchs from generations past. “I think we’ve been by this before.”

She examined the paintings as they sprinted by. “Yes…”

“I know that looks familiar,” he added, pointing out at a decorative suit of armor standing against one wall.

“This is the right way!”

A stitch was beginning to form in Leafa’s side. With a grimace, she groaned inwardly, reminding herself that she was no longer a teenager. As she glanced over her shoulder, she realized that her champion too was struggling to maintain this speed. How she hated feeling old! Once again, she found herself considering the untaken path in her life. She could have been someone so different from who she was. She wondered if she could allow herself to regret her decisions. No, she decided coldly, there was no room for regret. Not now. Not with so many important matters weighing heavily on the speed of her legs.

They took a sharp turn, the pathway suddenly becoming clear to them, inexperienced though they were. Moving in perfect harmony, they made their way up a steep incline, carpeted with purple and gold fabric, passing a few more extravagant sculptures and paintings. Taking a final turn, Leafa stopped short, holding her arm out to instruct Tully to do the same. Before them, they saw the massive double doors of the throne room. The doors were shut now. Standing out in front of them were five knights, wearing ceremonial tunics rather than armor, all of them holding Hylian standards and staring at the Humans.

“You’re in an awful hurry,” one of them said. Leafa immediately recognized him as the Captain. His name was Starvling.

“I must speak with the King,” Leafa panted.

“Do you have an appointment?” Starvling sneered.

“I was just here this morning!” she cried.

Starvling turned to his lieutenant. “I’m sorry, who is this person?”

“I don’t know, sir,” the lieutenant replied with a shrug.

“She is Leafa!” Tully cried. “Basileaus of Kakariko!”

“I’m sorry, I’m afraid I can’t let you in,” Starvling said in a most sing song like manner.

“You must!” Leafa shouted. “It’s urgent!”

“I’m sorry, the King is busy.”

“But this is a matter of life and death!”

“Surely it can’t be that important. News that urgent doesn’t usually find its way to the King in the form of a Kludge.”

Leafa blinked, taking a step back. She had heard the word ‘Kludge’ before. Some of the villagers who were forced to work for the Hylians had told her of it. Apparently, it was the ancient Hylian word for ‘donkey.’ The Hylians had begun to refer to the Humans by this word. Immediately, indignation rose within the Basileaus of Kakariko.

“How dare you,” she growled.

“I think you’ve made her angry, Captain,” one of the knights said.

The Captain chuckled. “Kludges are so funny when they’re angry. They can sit there and glare and glare and there’s nothing they can do about it.” He turned back to Leafa. “Be on your way, Human.” Roughly, he pushed her back.

This was the final straw. Letting out another growl, Leafa surged forward, her nails poised to gouge out his eyes. At the last moment, the Captain turned his head, so she clawed at his cheek, drawing five threads of bright red blood. Immediately, the other knights fell on her. She kicked one in the stomach, sending him flying across the hall and into a wall. Tully sprang into action, rushing to defend his leader. Two of the knights closing in on Leafa turned abruptly, each of them grabbing one of Tully’s massive arms and pulling him back, pinning him against a wall.

The chief lieutenant grabbed Leafa around the waist, throwing her roughly to the ground. Starvling had recovered by this point. He walked past his lieutenant and stood over Leafa. Angrily, she shot her foot out, kicking him in the shins. This didn’t seem to hurt him much, but he fell to his knees anyway, pushing Leafa’s shoulders to the ground with his hands and sitting on her torso.

“Leafa!” Tully shouted, struggling against the Hylians holding him back. The two knights who weren’t holding him down rushed to join their friends. While Tully was a strong man, four against one were too much for him, especially after his exhausting run through the castle.

Starvling leaned forward, putting his face right into Leafa’s with a menacing grin. “Was there something you wanted to say to me, Kludge?”

She spat in his face. “No.”

At once, he pulled his hand back and struck her. “I said, was there something you wanted to say to me?”

Slowly, Leafa turned her face back to look at Starvling. Drudging up all her resolve, she quietly muttered, “I’m sorry.”

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”

“I’m sorry!!!” she roared, her voice echoing all the way down the hall. Her humiliation stretched further than that.

“That’s a good Kludge,” he whispered. Menacingly, he leaned forward, panting a light kiss on her lips. Leafa turned her face away in disgust. “I think she’s learned her lesson,” he said cheerfully, standing up and getting off of Leafa. “Let them be on their way.”

The guards holding Tully let go of him. Roughly, he stepped away from the wall, straightening out his tunic. After exchanging glares with the Hylians, he crossed the hallway to Leafa and offered her a hand, gently pulling her up to her feet. “Let’s go, Tully,” she said quietly.



Kaya glanced to one side at Glas. “Why are you being so quiet?” she asked him carefully.

“Hmm?”

“Why are you being so quiet?”

Glas turned to look at her. He seemed to be considering his word choice warily. “I’m just thinking.”

“That’s a nasty habit.” Silence. “About what?”

“Shayla.”

“You don’t like leaving her, do you?”

He laughed a little. “No. I hate being apart from her.”

They had come to the gates around the outermost part of the castle grounds. The sun was sinking slowly beneath the horizon, leaving the sky a magnificent shade of orange, rather like the insides of a mango, somewhat pink, somewhat yellow. As they approached the gate, several knights hurried, their armor clanking, to the door mechanism. They began turning the crank, lowering the drawbridge. Glas and Kaya paused, watching the surprisingly simple wooden plank drop down over the murky water of the moat.

“She’ll be okay,” Kaya told Glas gently.

“Yeah, I know.”

“So why are you so thoughtful?”

“She’s going to be ten soon, you know.”

Kaya nodded. “On the anniversary of the attack on Kasuto.”

“I prefer to think of it as the anniversary of her birth.”

“That too.”

The drawbridge hit the ground with a fantastic boom which shook the gate and they began walking again, Glas politely waving to one of the guards. “You know what today is?” he asked.

“What?”

“It’s the tenth anniversary of our first contact with the Human village.”

“No. Has it really been ten years?”

Glas nodded. “Ten years ago yesterday, Sojef first mistook Impa for a wind goddess.”

“Boy did he miss the mark.”

“Hey!”

“Sorry.”

On the other side of the gate, Glas gestured vaguely to the knights and they began to turn the wheel again, pulling the drawbridge back up. He started down the road, Kaya trotting to keep up with him. “I’m worried that Shayla won’t be ready for her rites,” he said after awhile.

“I know.”

He looked at her in surprise. “You do?”

Kaya nodded. “Impa asked me if I would be willing to put in a few hours, training Shayla.” She paused for a moment. “Glas, maybe she’s meant to follow your path. You didn’t want to be a warrior, after all.”

“I still went through my initiations,” Glas answered. “I didn’t close any doors until I decided what I wanted. Shayla’s too young to make a decision so great that will affect the rest of her life.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Kaya sighed. “Still, I think that maybe she –”

She was cut off suddenly by the loud whinny of a horse. Glas and Kaya both looked up sharply to see a fairly large white mare with a gray mane, bucking up on her hind legs and straining against a rope that was tying her to a tree. “Filly?”

“What?”

“That’s Impa’s horse,” Glas said, taking off in the direction of the mare.

“What’s it doing out here?” Kaya asked, chasing after him.

“I don’t know,” he replied. He reached the horse, taking Filly’s nose in his hands and gently patting her side. She seemed to recognize him and stopped bucking at once. Carefully, he reached around her neck and untied her from the tree. “Easy girl,” he whispered, stroking her side.

When she arrived, Kaya leaned over and picked up the rope. Curiously, she turned it over in her hands for a moment or two, then leaned in close and sniffed it. “Glas.”

“What?”

“This rope is made of hemp.”

“So?”

“Hemp is native to the Ger –”

From the shadows of the tree’s branches, a hand reached down, clamping onto Kaya’s shoulder. With savage strength, she was thrust forward, her head bashed against the trunk of the tree. Before Glas could react, he heard a swift noise as several figures fell out of the branches, landing behind him. Filly neighed indignantly, kicking her hooves up and taking off down the road, back to the castle.

When Glas turned around, he saw several Gerudo warriors standing behind him, all of them brandishing weapons. He lifted his arms to show compliance, but one of the more headstrong women took this for a threat. She jumped forward, kneeing him in the stomach and grabbing his shoulders to push him down the ground. His nose cracked against a tree root and blood began gushing forth. On his side, he could hear Kaya struggling against the person who grabbed her from the tree. When he looked up, holding a hand over his nose, he saw her flung at his side, falling onto her knees and nursing a split lip.

“Necks!” one of the Gerudo women barked. Immediately, Glas felt a hand on his head. One of the Gerudos grabbed his hair, yanking it back violently to expose his unprotected neck. Beside him, he heard Kaya struggle as another warrior did the same to her.

“Sheikah scum,” one of the other Gerudos scoffed.

The first woman extended her arm, pointing her sword at Glas’ neck. She pulled back making to slit his throat when suddenly someone Glas couldn’t see clamped a hand down on her wrist. “No,” a deep voice told her.

Immediately, the woman returned her swords to the scabbards on her belt. “Yes, master.”

The person holding Glas’ hair back released it and Glas straightened himself out. When he looked up, he saw the imposing figure of the Gerudo prince standing before him. He wore dark brown armor all over his body. What little skin was revealed was a sickly color, almost green, not at all the healthy hues of a normal Gerudo. His wild mane of red hair primarily climbed down the back of his neck while the top of his head was somewhat bald, a fact half hidden by the jeweled circlet he wore. He looked down his long, pointed nose at Glas, a small smile on his narrow face.

“I’ve seen you before,” Ganondorf said calmly.

“Can’t say the same,” Glas replied, trying his best to keep his calm. At his side, he could feel Kaya squirming. He turned to look at her, but the Gerudo behind him grabbed his head, forcing him to look back at Ganondorf.

“You will not turn away from our leader,” she said in no uncertain tones.

Ganondorf, meanwhile, folded his arms across his massive chest, still eyeing Glas. “I saw him with the Sheikah nursemaid.”

“Princess Zelda’s guardian?” the sword wielder asked.

“Yes, Sarjenka.” He paused for a moment. “What was her name again?”

“Impa.”

“Ah yes, yes.” Ganondorf looked Glas in the eyes. “I suppose all Sheikahs know each other. There are so few of you left.”

“Wish I could say the same for Gerudos!” Kaya shouted angrily.

Wearily, Ganondorf threw her a bored look. “You,” he said calmly, “I have not seen with the Princess’s guardian. This makes you expendable.” He glanced at one of his warriors. “Drag her off into the woods and kill her.”

There was a great scuffle to Glas’ side, but he was unable to turn his head to see what was going on. He could hear Kaya struggling. Some of the Gerudos in his sightlines disappeared to help their companion maintain control of Kaya. Already, he could hear the noise of the fray disappearing into the distance as Kaya was doubtlessly dragged toward the woods. Desperately, he fought against the hands on his head, trying to turn and catch the eye of his companion, but the Gerudo was far stronger than he was and kept him staring at Ganondorft.

Dragmire, for his part, watched the fray progress, both admiring and laughing at Kaya’s spirited attempts to break free. Finally, shadows consumed the mangled mass of limbs and Ganondorf turned back to his other prisoner. “You,” he said coldly, “might prove more useful.”

“I won’t help you,” Glas declared.

“Of course you won’t,” Ganondorf replied cheerfully. “You are a Sheikah, stiff upper lip and all. You will defend the royal family to the bitter end, like your father and grandfather and all your ancestors before you.”

“Master,” Sarjenka said quietly, “the attack. We need to move if we’re going to succeed.”

Ganondorf sighed. “Ah, yes. Right as usual, Sarjenka.”

“You have to get to the rendezvous point.”

He glanced at Glas again. “I’m sorry to cut this meeting short,” he said with mock sincerity. “I hope you understand; duty calls.”

“You’ll never get the Princess,” Glas told him softly.

At this, Dragmire laughed, almost merrily, if it were possible. “The Princess? You silly, silly man. What would I want with the Princess? I’m after something much, much more valuable.”

“What?”

The Gerudo wagged a finger at him. “I’m so sorry, but I simply can’t allow you to distract me. I have matters to attend to.” He turned to Sarjenka. “Deal with him.” And with that, he walked away, mounting a black steed that one of his other servants brought out of the shadows for him. With a ferocious, “Ya!” he kicked his horses flanks and rode away at a swift gallop, heading off in the direction of North Castle and leaving Glas alone with the Gerudo women.



The courtyard was getting dark as the bright orange of the sky turned to a mellower, dark shade. Shayla had managed to find her way there with the advice of a kindly knight who pointed her in the right direction. As she wandered out, she looked up at the sky, humming softly to herself the little song she had written yesterday. She could hear her mother’s voice in the distance and followed the sound, picking at the little balls of lint on her bodice.

Boring though the castle seemed to her, the garden was incredible, unlike anything she had seen before. The bushes grew thick with wild roses of a variety of colors that dazzled her young imagination. Up ahead of her, she spotted a weeping willow with ivy growing up the bark in an elegant and delicate circular pattern. The air was fragrant, rich with the scent of lilacs. Squealing with delight, she spotted a patch of cattails and ran over to them, running her hands along the fuzzy, narrow stalks and yanking them, much like she pulled the tail of their neighbor’s annoying long haired cat, Reggie.

Almost at once, she heard the grass parting abruptly. She looked up quickly and her eyes immediately met with those of her mother, pushing aside the foliage to investigate the strange squeal. “Shayla!” she cried.

“Look, it’s Reggie’s tail!” Shayla told her happily.

“Come out of there,” Impa said, picking up Shayla around the waist and pulling her out of the bushes. She set her down on a bank of emerald green grass, by a small pond with a bridge and trellis on the opposite bank. Standing near the water was the young girl Shayla had seen from the window, her face half shadowed by the ridiculous headdress on her head. She looked up curiously as Impa pulled a little Sheikah out of the bushes.

“What’s going on?” she asked. “Who’s that?”

Impa turned Shayla around to face her. “Princess Zelda, this is Shayla. Shayla, this is Princess Zelda.”

Zelda gathered up her skirts in her hands, curtsying deeply to the new girl with a polite, “How do you do?”

Shayla seemed delighted by this formality and immediately returned the gesture with a deep, “How do you do?”

“Answer the question, Shayla,” Impa said. “Say, ‘I’m very well. Thank you, your majesty.’”

“I’m very well. Thank you, your majesty,” Shayla echoed, perfectly imitating her mother’s tone of voice.

Curiously, Zelda examined her. “Are you a Sheikah?” she asked.

Before Shayla could answer, Impa turned her face up to the sky, clearing her throat. “It’s getting late. We should go inside.”

“Will you be joining us, Shayla?”

“I think so,” Shayla replied.

Impa put a firm hand on each girl’s shoulder, turning them toward the castle. “Inside. It’s time that we were –” But she stopped suddenly, turning her face out toward the high wall surrounding the castle grounds.

“What?” Zelda prompted her after a moment. “What is it?”

Frowning, Impa continued to stare out into the distance. “I’m not sure,” she answered. “Something isn’t right.” She tightened her grip on Zelda’s shoulder. “Let’s get inside.”

There was no argument from either of the girls. In hushed silence, they allowed Impa to steer them back through the garden, taking the most direct path to the arched doorway back inside of the castle. On the other side, Impa turned around, closing and locking the doors. Once that was done, Impa hoped that her fears would depart, but she felt a cold shiver run up her spine and immediately knew something was very wrong. Across the hall was the small side door to the throne room. She led Shayla and Zelda through it, closing the door behind them.

The throne room was more or less deserted, as the King had stopped hearing petitions nearly an hour ago. Impa was somewhat surprised at the absence of courtiers loitering around the walls, but she shrugged it off. After all, she was never a fan of all the decorum and pomp. Up on the dais, the King had turned his throne around to look out the stained glass window. She knew he was there though, as she could see the top of his crown.

Releasing the girls, Impa walked past them, climbing the bottom step of the dais. “Your majesty?” she called. Much to her surprise, there was no response from the old King. Taking another step up to the dais, she tried again. “Sire?”

“Father?” Zelda murmured, walking down the red carpet with Shayla trailing after her.

Again, there was no response. “Your highness,” Impa snapped irritably. She got to the top of the dais and walked around the throne to look him in the eyes. Her breath caught in her throat and she struggled to stifle so much as the slightest sound. It was difficult, but she managed to harden her face to the sight before her.

The King was dead. Not only dead, but freshly so. As Impa looked, she saw that his downy beard had been cut away and his throat slit. Fresh blood was still trickling out of the wound. He stared up at the window with glazed eyes, fixed at nothing in particular. His mouth was open in an expression of awe or horror, which, Impa could not tell. It seemed that there had been a fight. The King’s royal robes were askew and there were several bruises on his face. On the floor, Impa now noticed several teeth.

“Father?” Zelda said again.

Impa forced herself to look away, hurrying back down the stairs again. “We have to get out of here,” she whispered fiercely.

“What’s going on?” Shayla asked.

“There’s no time for questions. We have to go.” Impa put her hands on the girls’ shoulders and was about to lead them out again when she noticed some movement out of the corner of her eye. Abruptly, she spun around, throwing a vicious punch which made solid contact with the jaw of the Gerudo warrior who had been attempting to sneak up behind them.

Both the girls screamed, backing away from the sudden scramble. Impa, meanwhile, reached out and grabbed the Gerudo around the throat, lifting her up into the air and throwing her up against the stairs of the dais. Quickly, the Gerudo recovered from the unplanned flight and sprang to her feet, drawing two long blades from her belt. She crossed them in front of her for a moment then began a wild display, thrusting the swords over and under each other and spinning the hilts in her hands. When she finished her routine, she held the swords out to either side, daring Impa to approach.

In two swift strides, Impa crossed the expanse between them, pulled her fist back, and punched the Gerudo in the face. The swords went flying to either side, skidding across the floor, and the warrior stumbled back, tripping over the steps to the dais and falling flat on her back, her arms and legs akimbo. Impa reached down and grabbed the Gerudo by her shoulders, lifting her clean off the ground. She crossed the floor swiftly, smashing the woman’s back up against the wall, her feet dangling several inches off of the ground.

“What have you done?” Impa growled, narrowing her cold, crimson eyes at the warrior.

“You may kill me and win this battle,” the Gerudo declared in her rich, exotic accent, “but you will never win the war.”

“The war with who?”

“No one can stop him!” the Gerudo shouted.

Impa slammed her back against the wall again. “Who?”

“Ganondorf Dragmire,” Zelda whispered, her bright blue eyes growing wide with fear.

Laughing menacingly, the Gerudo smiled. “Your little one speaks right,” she said fiercely. “No one can stop him now.”

“It’s begun,” Zelda murmured.

“Guards!” Impa shouted to the doors.

Again, the Gerudo laughed. “Dead,” she spat. “All dead.”

“Then I’ll have to dispose of you myself,” Impa hissed. With a loud, animal like roar, she hefted the Gerudo up into the air and threw her across the room, sending her crashing through the stained glass window above the dead King. The window shattered on the impact and as the Gerudo warrior dropped out of sight, plummeting down into the moat, no doubt, showers of red, purple, blue, and gold glass fell to the floor of the throne room, glimmering in the dying sunlight like fireflies.

As the final shambles of the window fell, a curl of dark black smoke came up through the opening. Impa sniffed and realized with terror that something was on fire in the castle. “The Gerudos are attacking the castle,” she whispered fiercely to herself, finally understanding the sense of alarm she had felt back in the courtyard.

“By Nayru…” Zelda muttered. Impa cringed, wishing that her young charge hadn’t heard that. “Are they really?”

“So it seems,” Impa answered softly. She turned around, swiftly crossing the room and picking up Zelda like a rag doll. “We have to get out of here. Now.”



It was getting late. As the boy walked down the road, he glanced up at the sky. He was fairly certain he could see a few purple stars beginning to spot the horizon, although there was no way of being sure if they were really stars, or merely fireflies. Regardless of which, they brought a small smile to his face. There was just something about shiny objects that seemed to move him.

His pockets jangled softly as he felt the three Spiritual Stones clatter against one another. They were certainly shiny. He only hoped they were worth the effort it had taken to retrieve them. In all of his life, he couldn’t ever remember working so hard to obtain so little. Well, he reasoned, at least the worst was over. He had won, against all odds and now he knew that there would be no more trouble. That’s what Zelda had told him after all. If they had the Spiritual Stones, they were set.

Already, he was beginning to imagine his triumphant homecoming. No one could make fun of him now. He had left the forest and performed some heroic tasks of great daring. So what if he didn’t have his own fairy? A small frown formed. Casually, he glanced up at the hovering ball of blue light by his shoulder. “Hey, Navi…” he called slowly.

“Yes?” the ball of light answered.

“When we get back to the forest, are you mine for keeps? Or are you just going to go back?”

“Well, I don’t know, Link,” she replied. “Wouldn’t that be wonderful though? I could stay with you forever!”

Link forced himself to smile slightly. “Yeah,” he said halfheartedly, “that would be…wonderful.”

The trek grew silent again, save for the tingling of the stones in Link’s pocket. His nose wrinkled slightly as he smelled something strange on the wind. At first, he wasn’t sure what it was, but eventually, he decided it was probably just a barbeque in the village. The thought of it made his stomach growl and he realized that he hadn’t had a thing to eat all day. All he had gotten was a bit of milk from that unusual ranch a few hours ago. Maybe he would go back there after he gave Zelda the stones. They had all seemed terribly nice…well…except for that annoying hired hand.

Turning around a bend in the road, North Castle came into Link’s view. For a second, he felt an amazing sense of relief, seeing the final destination of his harrowing journey, but that relief quickly dissolved. It seemed that the sky was clouding up with enormous black thunderclouds that hadn’t been there a minute ago.

“It looks like it’s going to storm,” Navi murmured.

“Yeah,” he replied, though it seemed frightfully obvious. In the distance, he spotted a few torches which had just been lit, presumably by the castle guards in anticipation of nightfall. “I hope I don’t have to go through that whole ordeal again, just to get into the castle,” he said, recalling the rather tedious obstacles he had overcome only this morning.

“I’m sure it won’t be necessary,” Navi said in a matter-of-fact tone of voice. “If you show the Spiritual Stones to the guards, I’ll bet they let you pass right through. It’s not every day they see someone carrying one of Hyrule’s most sacred treasures, after all. That means you’re someone important.”

“We’ll see, I guess,” he sighed.

A low rumble of thunder in the distance shook them both. As Link looked up ahead of him, he noticed something rather peculiar. There were lit torches all right, but no sign of the castle guards anywhere. Navi seemed to notice this as well. “What’s going on?” she wondered.

“I don’t know,” he answered. Suddenly, he rounded on her. “I thought you were supposed to know these things!”

“Sorry,” she replied casually.

“Ugh!”

He took off at a bit of a run toward the torches. Navi sniffed indignantly and flew after him, managing to keep up, whether he liked it or not. They arrived at the phantom torches when, with a sudden clap of thunder, the rain began pouring down. And this wasn’t just a nice spring shower. This was a serious tempest. The raindrops were freezing cold and hit Link’s shoulders and arms like little pebbles, pelting painfully. Navi clearly wasn’t equipped to deal with this kind of torrent. The only rains they got in the forest were a few light April showers. With a panicked shriek, the fairy dove under Link’s green cap.

Link realized why he couldn’t see the guards in the torchlight as he got closer. They were all lying prone on the ground; face down in small pools of burgundy blood. He gasped in surprise, jumping back. This wasn’t the first time he had seen death, to be certain. After today’s escapades, he had seen very many variations of it. But these weren’t monsters that needed to be slain. These were people. Hylians just like him. Dead.

“They’re dead, Navi,” he told the fairy under his hat.

“W-what?”

“The guards. They’re dead.” He glanced at them, noticing that one still had a gleaming silver sword stuck in his back. “It looks like they were all stabbed to death with swords.”

Carefully, Navi lifted the hem of the hat on Link’s head, glancing at the scene. “Those are Gerudo blades,” the fairy said quietly.

“Gerudo blades?”

Before Navi could explain further, there was an enormous crash. “That’s not thunder!” Link cried, clutching his heart as it raced.
Sure enough, when he looked up, down the path, he saw that the drawbridge over the castle moat had come crashing down. Over the opening, a severed chain swung dangerously back and forth. As Link looked at it, he could clearly tell the chain hadn’t broken of natural weight. It had definitely been cut. The break was very clean. The drawbridge was meant to open.

As he looked through the entrance, he caught sight of the castle. He realized that half of the storm clouds weren’t clouds at all. They were billows of black smoke rising out of the castle. In the windows of the palace, he could see bright fingers of orange fire, flaring out from time to time in a great fight against the rain. Distantly, he thought he heard people screaming over the noise of the rain. Probably the courtiers and servants, he supposed, but he was quickly distracted from that.

A new sound emerged from the great cacophony: The pounding of horse hooves. Narrowing his eyes against the haze of the rain, Link spied the figure of a mare approaching at full gallop, out through the mouth of the gate. He leapt aside, for fear of being trampled as the swift creature flew at him. Luckily, Link was fast. He threw himself on a tuft of grass, spilling half the contents of his pockets and Navi out on the muddy ground.

“The stones!” Navi shouted. “Pick them up!”

Link scrambled on his hands and knees, grabbing the Spiritual Stones and shoving them into his pockets before returning to retrieve his Rupees, a few Deku Seeds, and Navi. All of these, he thrust violently into his pockets, accompanied by the indignant protests of the fairy.

When he looked up, the horse was galloping away from him. Getting to his feet, he called out to the rider. “Impa!” He recognized her from earlier this morning. She had been the one to escort him safely out of the castle and she had also taught him some very valuable information, in order to get around easily as he went on his quest for the Spiritual Stones.

Whether Impa heard him or not, she showed no sign. But, as she continued to ride away, Link saw a small face peer around her. Immediately, he locked eyes with Zelda. She seemed to be in a state of panic that almost made her unrecognizable, given her usually calm demeanor. It seemed she was trying to yell something to him, but Link couldn’t hear her. Suddenly, she reached out for something and as Link watched, a small black dot went soaring through the sky, falling into the murky depths of North Castle’s moat.

Zelda’s face disappeared, hiding behind Impa as they moved farther and farther away. Although Link had not been able to hear what Zelda was telling him, he had a pretty good idea it had something to do with what was now in the moat. He watched them vanish for a moment, but once they were a speck on the horizon, he felt Navi jab him in the side. “You’re wasting time,” the fairy shrieked. “Go to the moat!” It seemed that Navi had been able to watch everything.

Link turned around and began to head to the moat, but he suddenly heard the clip clop of horse hooves again. From the rainy mist, a second steed emerged, this one black as the night with a fiery red mane. Against his better judgment, Link walked down the hill to see. He didn’t recognize this rider, not at first. But as the form drew closer and closer, a tiny red flag began waving in the back of Link’s mind. His dreams! He remembered this entire scene from his nightmares. Sure enough, as he crept nearer, he could see that the man on the midnight black stallion was, in fact, an oily looking Gerudo man with a receding hairline.

His mind raced as Link tried to recall every last detail from his dream. What happened after the white horse and the black horse rode by? He screwed up his face in concentration. Suddenly, he remembered. Oh. That.

The rider of the black horse passed by Link, kicking him sharply in the side and sending him rolling across the wet, muddy grass. There was a sharp pain in his side now, throbbing and aching, but when Link looked down he was relieved to see that he wasn’t bleeding. Ruefully, he rather wished he had remembered that part of the dream a few moments earlier.

“Get off of me, Link!” Navi shouted.

“Oops.” Link quickly stood up, holding his side as Navi shot out from his pocket indignantly and ducked under his cap again. “Sorry.”

“Get to the moat!”

“Oh. Right!”

He took off at a slow jog, his ribs still aching from where the Gerudo had kicked him. The sound of the horses had utterly vanished, being replaced once again by the screams from North Castle and the harsh pelting of the raindrops. Link made his way to the moat and, as he hoped, the object Zelda had thrown was still there. Carefully, he squatted by the bank and leaned over, reaching into the water to pull it up. At first, he didn’t know what it was, but as he turned the cold object over in his hands, he realized it was an ocarina. It was similar to the one Saria had given him, only a bit bigger and much darker. There was something special about it. Just holding the instrument, Link felt immense surges of ether flying around the air. This was important.



On the second floor of the castle, in a wing where the fire hadn’t quite reached, Shayla stood by a window, watching as the two horses disappeared into the mist. ‘Don’t leave Sir Lien,’ that’s what her mother had told her. But five minutes after Impa and Zelda vanished down the hallway a support beam was burned loose by the fire and fell on Lien, leaving him on the floor, quite dead it seemed.

Left alone, Shalya made her way through the burning castle, trying to find a path outside. She remembered everything her father had taught her about fire and she understood well enough the dangerous situation she was in, but all the same, her better reason failed her in the panic, leading her up the stairs, rather than down. At the window, she caught sight of her mother riding out at full gallop with the Princess flung over the saddle like a sack of potatoes. For some reason, little Shayla couldn’t tear her eyes away from the display. She stood there, completely frozen and unable to comprehend one very little question. Why?

Hot tears began to roll down her pudgy cheeks. She didn’t know why she was crying, she just knew that she was. Wringing one of her mousy brown plaits in her stubby fists, she thought longingly of her father, wishing that he would come sweeping in to rescue her from this awful nightmare. And yet, her father didn’t come. No one came. She was left alone.

There was a loud groan from the ceiling. Shayla had heard it before, when the support beam fell on poor Lien. The structure of the castle was beginning to give under the strain. Carelessly wiping away her tears, Shayla turned and began dashing through the castle, ducking the bursts of fire that would erupt as the flames discovered new sources of oxygen from closed drawers and cracked windows. She could hear voices, other people equally afraid, but she couldn’t find any of them.

“Poppa!” she screamed at the top of her lungs, not bothering to listen for an answer. He wouldn’t come.

She turned a corner and discovered a narrow spiral staircase, going down, presumably, to the kitchen. It was clearly a servants’ stair, made of wood and lacking any sort of railing or decorum. Without a thought, she raced down, the strained wooden steps creaking and moaning under her weight. At the bottom, she tore across the kitchen floor and was halfway to the nearest table when she suddenly heard a loud crack. Shayla looked back, over her shoulder, just in time to see the staircase collapse. Fresh flames began to race into the room, going straight for her. With a shriek, she ran to the table, pulling up the cloth and ducking underneath it.

It was deathly hot under the tablecloth, but Shayla felt a certain amount of relief from the fact that she could no longer see the fire. Pulling her knees to her chest, she rocked herself back and forth slowly singing the lullaby her father sang to her every night he tucked her into bed. She found herself troubled, stumbling over the words, yet she continued to sing, never allowing herself to stop for the briefest of moments. She couldn’t stop. If she stopped, she would cry.

There was a loud blast of noise, like a fresh cup of grease hitting a hot pan. A flash of light lit up Shayla’s face, followed by a rush of heat. When she looked over to her side, she realized that the tablecloth was on fire. She let out a loud shriek and dropped onto her hands and knees, crawling out the other side of the table. The kitchen behind her was completely ablaze now. There was only one doorway without fire in it, so Shayla sprang to her feet and cut a dash for it

Shayla shot down the hall, pumping her fists at her side and blinking away her freshly formed tears. Up ahead, she spotted the doorway to the courtyard she had discovered earlier. Without bothering to look for an alternative route, she sprinted for it, going as fast as her little legs would carry her. She was nearly through the door when suddenly, she felt a pair of arms wrap around her waist, lifting her clean off of the ground and pulling her back several meters. Before she had time to object, however, another support beam fell, crashing down into the doorway she was about to use. Shayla let out a mighty scream, flailing wildly at the heat and noise.

“Easy,” a soothing voice said in her ear.

Turning her head, she saw a strange woman holding her up off the ground. She looked at Shayla with sharp green eyes, but there was kindness in those eyes, causing the girl to calm down enough to say, “Who are you?”

“My name is Leafa,” the stranger answered. Gently, she set Shayla down on the ground and let go of her waist. “We’ve got to get you out of here. Where’s your mother?”

For a moment, Shayla was at a loss for words. She finally managed to utter a single one. “Gone.”

Leafa turned to look at a particularly burly man who appeared behind her. “She’s a Sheikah,” she murmured to her companion. “Look at her eyes.”

“All the Sheikahs are fighting the fire right now,” he said. He frowned slightly before adding, “A lot of them have been killed by the Gerudo.”

“We have to get her out of here,” Leafa said firmly.

“Hurry,” Tully insisted.

Bending down to look her in the eyes, Leafa held her hands out to Shayla. “Will you come with me?” There wasn’t a moment of delay. Shayla raced forward into Leafa’s arms, wrapping hers around the woman’s neck. Leafa smiled gently, picking Shayla up off the ground and carrying her on her hip. “Let’s go,” she said.

The three of them began rushing down the halls. It seemed that Leafa and Tully had a better sense of where they were going. Tully examined Shayla as they fled. There was no doubt about it, she was a Sheikah. She had those brilliant red eyes he remembered so clearly. He was a bit troubled by the fact that they were so dry. “It’s all right to cry, you know,” he told Shayla gently.

She shook her head. “No. I will never cry again.”

Hyrule seemed a pale imitation of its former glory. Worse than that, it was more like a living nightmare. The Kokiri had gone into hiding, fleeing the terrible creatures that now inhabited their forest. Hyrule field was infested with Poes and the nearby ranch taken over by that awful hired hand that no one seemed to care for. That was as close to the old ruins of North Castle as anyone could get. The rest of the area was rendered completely uninhabitable by Hylians. It was overrun with creatures of darkness, serving the new, self proclaimed emperor of Hyrule, Ganondorf Dragmire.

Up to the north, the mountain range was a total mess. A dark, red cloud encircled the peaks. The Gorons had vanished. They were rumored to be trapped inside of the Fire Temple, offered up as sacrifices at regular intervals to a dragon. Down south, the waters of Lake Hylia were nearly dried up. What remained was stagnant and fetid. Worse yet, the waters of Zora Harbor had been frozen solid leaving the Zora completely isolated and cut off from both Hyrule and the passage of time.

The Sheikah stronghold was another pale imitation of what it had once been. The Gerudo had burned down the actual buildings several years ago, in a final and desperate attempt to wipe out the Sheikah race once and for all, but the foundations remained. Over them now were canvas tents, easily taken down at a moment’s notice, making a perfectly mobile fortress in which the remaining Sheikah could meet and discuss the state of things in Hyrule.

It was in these depressing ruins that Yonah summoned Impa and her young apprentice, Sheik. When the two of them arrived, Yonah was sitting in the largest tent. Impa recognized the designs drawn on the canvas ceiling. Vaguely, she recalled that she had once taken this tent out on a mission, her very first command. That seemed far away to her now, thrown back into the recesses of her memory, but it had only been seventeen years ago.

“Hello,” Yonah said softly as she looked up at her visitors.

“Hello, Yonah,” Impa replied, drawing a fist up to her chest in the traditional Sheikah salute. “How are you?”

“Well, whatever’s going to kill me hasn’t shown up just yet,” Yonah remarked wryly. She turned to address Sheik, bending her head as much as her old age would permit.

“Please don’t,” the girl said softly, taking Yonah by the shoulders to straighten her out.

“Forgive me,” Yonah sighed. “Old habits.” She shook her head with a smile, examining the young woman before her. Impa had dressed her up in the most traditional Sheikah garb she could manage, but there was still one flaw in this otherwise perfect disguise. Sheik’s eyes were still the deep blue shade of a regular Hylian. No amount of magic could give her red, Sheikah eyes.

“Why have you summoned us?” Impa asked. She didn’t need to add in any sort of comment about the dangers. The Sheikahs, though surviving, were under heavy surveillance. Every wicked thing that went bump in the night knew that Princess Zelda was still alive somewhere and that the Sheikahs were protecting her. They were constantly looking for the slightest chink in the Sheikah armor that would reveal the location of the Princess. It was dangerous for Impa to be seen with the others. She could hide Zelda with greater ease on her own than in the presence of her people.

“I’ve just been contacted by Rauru,” Yonah explained.

Impa furrowed her brow. “Rauru?”

Sheik, however, seemed to recognize the name. “The Sage of Light? I thought he was dead.”

“He’s gone into hiding,” Yonah replied. “Just like you.”

“What does he want?” Impa wondered, half to Yonah, half to Sheik. There was no way of knowing which would have more answers. In the past six years, it seemed that Zelda’s wisdom had increased sevenfold.

“Well, it appears that Zelda’s dreams about Ganondorf were correct,” Yonah told them.

“What do you mean?”

“The boy. The Kokiri. He is the chosen one.”

This surprised Sheik. “Link? But I was certain he was dead!”

“He hasn’t been seen in the last six years,” Impa added.

Yonah merely nodded. “It seems that was Rauru’s doing.”

“What do you mean?”

“The boy is alive,” Yonah muttered. “In a way.”

“In a way?”

“It seems that he’s been sealed in the Temple of Time.”

Sheik blinked her big blue eyes. “The Temple of Time?”

The old Sheikah nodded. “Yes.”

“But that would mean that he’s –”

“Frozen. Asleep, if you will.”

Impa looked back and forth between the two of them. She felt miserably out of the loop, lacking all information on this situation and barely understanding a word they were saying. “Asleep?”

“When someone is sealed in the Temple of Time,” Sheik explained, “they fall into a sort of dreamless sleep until the seal is broken.”

“Which only Rauru can do,” Yonah added.

“If Link is the key to overthrowing Dragmire,” Impa started slowly, trying not to sound impertinent, “then why would Rauru do something like that? Why would he seal off our only hope?”

“That is exactly what I asked him,” Yonah answered.

“What did he say?”

“Rauru said that Link was too weak to face Ganondorf in his present condition. He’s been sealed in the Temple of Time so his body can mature while his mind remains uncorrupted by the world we have inherited.”

“Won’t that just atrophy his muscles?”

“It’s a magic ritual,” Yonah sighed, waving her hand dismissively.

“Oh.”

“I wish he had told us this sooner,” Sheik lamented. “Then we could have had more hope.”

“Believe me,” Yonah assured her, “I properly scolded Rauru for his actions. He feels very bad about not telling us.”

“Well, regardless of that fact,” Impa put in quickly before they could stray further from the subject, “what else did he tell you?”

“He said that he would be breaking the seal soon.”

Excitement filled Sheik’s eyes and she clasped her hands together. “Link will awaken soon?”

Yonah nodded. “Within the next year,” she responded. “Or so Rauru told me. Seven years is pushing it. There may be no Hylians left to save if he keeps Link sealed away much longer.”

“That’s absolutely wonderful!” Sheik cried.

“Yes, that’s fantastic news,” Impa said, somewhat less enthusiastic. “But it changes nothing for the present.”

“It gives us hope,” Yonah corrected her.

“Hope,” Impa repeated dryly.

“You must not underestimate the power of a morale booster,” Yonah said.

“Morale booster? Do you mean to tell me that you’re making this common knowledge?”

Again, the old Sheikah leader nodded. “I’ve already sent some of our warriors out into the village to spread the news that a hero is destined to rise.”

“You haven’t used his name, have you?” Sheik asked.

“No, of course not,” Yonah replied. “We’re calling him the Hero of Time, the chosen one.”

“It has a wonderful mystic quality to it,” Sheik said approvingly.

“I thought you’d like it.”

“Is there anything else?” Impa cut back in.

“No, that’s all. I didn’t want to send the news to you in writing, lest it fall into the wrong hands.”

“Thank you for telling us, Yonah,” Sheik said.

“It was my privilege, your majesty.”

“You mustn’t call me that anymore.”

“Forgive me. I’m old.” Yonah sighed. “Did you two arrive together?”

“Yes.”

“Then it’s best that you leave separately, so as not to draw any further attention.” She gestured to Sheik. “You go first. Return to your safe haven. I’ll send Impa along in a few minutes.”

“May the goddesses protect you, Yonah,” Sheik said. Immediately, she turned around and slipped out of the tent.

Impa and Yonah stood motionless, watching her silhouette on the canvas grow smaller and finally fade into the day. “Remarkable girl,” Yonah remarked after a moment. “You’ve done a fantastic job taking care of her, Impa. You should be very proud.”

“I am proud,” Impa replied vaguely. With a sigh, she turned her gaze to look down at her hands. Absently, she twirled a small piece of string tied around her ring finger.

“You lack hope more than most of the villagers,” Yonah commented, watching her.

“Things have been difficult. I hope that this Link will be able to restore peace and harmony.”

“Rauru is positive that if Link works in tandem with Princess Zelda and the other Sages, he can quite literally erase the last six years of misery.”

“Well, I doubt that.” Impa paused for a moment then looked up at Yonah. “Other Sages?”

“Yes. Zelda, it seems is a Sage.”

“I had no idea.”

“Nor did we. Rauru’s only just begun pooling information with us.”

“How many Sages are there?”

“Reportedly seven.”

“Have any of the others been identified?”

Yonah shook her head. “No. Not yet. And that’s probably for the best. If Dragmire knew about the Sages, he would most likely do everything in his power to keep them away from Link.”

“That’s assuming he doesn’t already know something that we don’t.”

“I try to be an optimist.” Yonah gently reached out to touch Impa on the shoulder. “So should you.”

Impa flinched, quickly pulling away from Yonah. “I can’t afford that luxury.” Before Yonah could reply, Impa turned and started for the flap. “I should go. She can’t be left alone for so long.”

“Go,” Yonah sighed. She watched silently as Impa slipped out of the tent. Her shadow on the wall disappeared much quicker than Sheik’s, but Yonah watched it go nevertheless. She frowned, her thoughts still lingering on this woman, whose presence still lingered in the heat that filled the air. Poor Impa: No one knew how much she had lost in the last six years. Her heartstrings, like the small bit of twine wrapped around her finger, were fraying.



Six years ago, the first of the Hylians relocated to Kakariko. Within a few weeks, another wave came. Soon, the entire population of the town that had once circled North Castle settled down in the Human village. Of course, they couldn’t bear to live in savage huts of mud and wicker. With the Hylians, came stucco and wood and brick. While the Hylians were incredible architects, they couldn’t build very well. Manual labor simply didn’t suit the talents of the noble and enlightened. Fortunately for them, the Human population provided a wellspring of laborers with strong backs and sense enough to know that pride was less important than a full belly.

Kakariko was transformed into a thriving little town, filled with shops and farms and tiny cafes with big umbrellas shading the tables and little umbrellas in the drinks. Of course, it wasn’t a paradise, but it was enough to call civilized. Any of the less civilized elements were confined to a small alleyway known as the Human Quarter. In the Human Quarter, there was a small jewelry store, built on the land that had once been the meeting hut. Above it was a large empty room. It was inside of this room that all the Humans assembled when they saw the bluish curls of smoke rising into the air one night.

The few remaining elements of their old way of life that had survived the rebuilding of Kakariko were tucked away in this room. There was little, to be certain, only the wicker throne of the Basileaus, a small, stone statue of Joxom, and several ancient bows, but it was enough. What really mattered were the people. And they crept in, cautiously in pairs of two or three, wondering with a sense of giddy delight, what the nature of this, their first meeting in five years, could possibly be.

Leonid picked his way across the room carefully, doing his best to avoid stepping on the small children who sat with their legs folded beneath them on the floor. Practically everyone in the Human Quarter knew who he was. After all, those who elected to remain in the Human Quarter, rather than hire themselves out as domestic servants and live in the Hylian homes, tended to stick together. There was a sense of community, a sense of family. Those who could still remember the old village recognized Leonid as the son of the old champion, Tully.

He looked just like his father, back when his father was seventeen. His long, ebony hair was divided into dozens of dreadlocks, falling over his face at odd angles. He didn’t care much for grooming and in fact reveled in his untidy appearance. Like Tully, he had a severe, square jaw, but he had inherited his mother’s cobalt blue eyes. Leonid’s strikingly handsome, muscular physique made him wildly sought after by the Hylian landlords with large, farm estates, but Leonid remained staunchly by the side of his father and the Basileaus. He could still remember the village; he could remember the way things used to be.

“Leonid!” one of his young friends called from the crowd.

“Yeah?” he asked, turning around to try and locate the source of the disembodied voice.

“What’s this meeting about?”

“Wait and see,” Leonid replied.

“Where’s the Basileaus?”

“The Basileaus didn’t call this meeting,” a firm voice reported from the doorway. Everyone turned and swiveled around, trying to see who had spoken. There wasn’t much doubt, but they still had to see for themselves.

Standing in the doorway was a young woman, a nearly seventeen years old. Like Leonid, she had a wild mane of dreadlocks, but her hair was much longer, going down halfway to her waist. It was a mousy, brown color, contrasted severely by her sharp red eyes. As she walked into the room, the crowd parted around her. Whenever they looked at her, it seemed like they were looking at a phantom.

While she possessed many of the traits of their worst enemies, particularly her long, pointed ears, she was still one of them, the Basileaus’ own daughter. She dressed like a Human, abandoning the gaudy, bright colors preferred by the Hylians. Instead, she wore a deep purple tunic that only covered her right arm and shoulder, leaving the left completely bare. Over her left side was a tight, fishnet fabric. Brown leather sandals climbed halfway up her thighs. Hanging to one side was an old, rusty sword she had obtained, despite the ban on Humans owning weapons.

“What’s the meaning of this, Shayla?” someone from the crowd barked. “You know only the Basileaus can call a meeting.”

“Only the Basileaus can call a mandatory meeting,” she replied blithely. “Anyone who wishes to leave is more than welcome to do so.”

They all mumbled, exchanging weary glances. True, she had given them leave, but now they were all too curious to know what the meaning of this abrupt breech in etiquette was. Leonid smirked. This was something he truly admired about Shayla. She had such a magnificent sense of the dramatic. She could keep almost anyone captivated for awhile; himself included.

Shayla crossed the room to the throne of the Basileaus. She didn’t dare sit in it, but rather stood before it, holding out her arms to address the people. “The crimes of the Hylians have gotten out of hand,” she declared. In the past, someone might have rebuked Shayla, pointing out that she was, in fact, a Hylian herself, but no one dared to try that again. Not after what happened last time. “Their latest transgression cannot be ignored,” she continued.

“What did they do?” someone asked curiously.

From her satchel, Shayla produced a scroll. With great ceremony, she unrolled it, holding it out for everyone to see. “Read this and see for yourself!”

“By order of the mayor of Kakariko,” Leonid read quietly to himself, “all Kludges are hereby ordered to submit to a nine o’clock curfew within the city limits.”

Quickly, indignant gasps erupted from the assembled masses. “You see how they treat us!” Shayla cried. “We’re nothing more than animals to them! Sheep that must be herded in before nighttime! Kludges!”

“They can’t do that!” someone growled angrily.

“They already have,” Shayla replied. She looked around at the crowd. “How many indignations have we suffered at the hands of the Hylians? What have they done to hinder our freedom?”

“They’ve taken our livestock!” a young Human yelled.

“They won’t let us operate businesses outside of the Quarter!”

“We’ve lost the right to own our land!”

“How many more indignations must we suffer?” Shayla roared. “How many? Put a number on it!”

“None!” Leonid shouted.

“None!” many of the others, particularly the young people, agreed. “None! None! None!”

“The time has come to fight back!” Shayla called above the hectic noise, pumping a militant fist into the air. She had a miraculous gift to make herself heard. “We must fight for our freedom! It’s time for us to act! It shall be glorious!”

“Silence.”

Instantly, the entire assembly fell silent. All eyes flew to the doorway. The crowd began to part as Basileaus Leafa made her way slowly into the room, accompanied, as always, by her faithful Tully. Leafa looked decidedly worse for wear after the difficulties of the last six years. Her face was worn and tired, the bags under her eyes heavy and purple. She had finally elected to chop off her rust colored curls, leaving her hair short and severe. In addition, the Basileaus had lost a lot of weight, giving her a slightly brittle appearance, though she moved well enough and always with the confidence of Basileaus.

“It will be a slaughter,” Leafa said softly as she came toe to toe with Shayla. “And mindless violence.”

“But Basileaus, the new law is –”

“I’m well aware what the new law is,” Leafa cut her off sharply. She turned to address the room. “It’s unfair, that’s what it is.” She paused for a moment. “But the second we pick up a weapon, we become one of them.”

There were murmurs of assent from all around the room, especially from the village elders. Shayla’s face slackened as she realized that she was loosing her audience. “But what would you have us do? Submit to servitude?”

“There are ways of working through problems without militant strength,” Leafa answered. “In the old days, we used to try talking through our problems.”

“These aren’t the old days,” Shayla shot back.

“No, but I’m working on it.” Leafa scanned the room. “Go home,” she told her people. “Return to your lives and families. This is not he answer.”

With varied grumbles and mumbles, the meeting broke up. Shayla stood there, feeling like a fool, as everyone left. Tully approached Leonid, grabbing him by the arm. “Did you know about this?” Leonid’s silence was answer enough. “I’ll have a word with you.” With that, the two men exited with the crowd. Soon, Leafa and Shayla were the only ones left.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Shayla said sulkily.

Leafa sat down in her wicker throne. “Neither did you.”

“I could have rallied them!” she replied passionately, turning around to face the Basileaus. “I could have made a difference.”

“At what cost?” Leafa asked. “How many lives would have to be lost in order for you to make your difference?”

Shayla knelt down at Leafa’s feet. “Mother, don’t you have confidence in my abilities?”

“I have every confidence in your abilities,” Leafa told her, stroking her hair gently. “What I don’t trust is your anger.”

“It makes me strong, mother.”

“It makes you rash and spontaneous.”

She sighed softly. “I just want to help.”

“I know,” Leafa mumbled softly.

“I hate the Hylians.”

“You cannot forget that you are one of them.” Shayla opened her mouth to protest, but Leafa went on. “Not all of them are bad. And you aren’t bad either. But don’t forget your Sheikah heritage.”

“I try to forget,” Shayla admitted, “but I can’t.”

“From the day I brought you home, I made it clear that if your parents came looking for you, I would return you to them.”

“They never came,” Shayla whispered.

“And so I’ve taken care of you,” Leafa continued. “But I have never asked you to hate your own heritage.”

“But the Hylians –”

“I had friends who were Hylians,” Leafa told her. “Good friends. Some of them were Sheikah.”

“So you’ve said.”

“And I haven’t forgotten the kindnesses they showed me. Some Hylians are bad, but not all of them. The Sheikah are very good. You should be proud to be one of them, Shayla.”

“Who wants to be part of a race that’s dead?” she asked bitterly.

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s the truth.” She looked up at Leafa with her hardened red eyes. “Everything that was Sheikah in me died that day when I saw…”

“Saw what?” This peaked Leafa’s interest. It wasn’t often that she could get Shayla to talk about her past. The truth was that she knew practically nothing about this stranger she called her daughter; nothing about her before the fateful day when she was found in the blazing destruction of North Castle.

“Nothing,” Shayla said coldly.

Leafa sighed. Another failed attempt. “I beg you, Shayla, check your anger. If you aren’t careful, it’ll explode in the worst possible way and you won’t be the only one who gets hurt.”

Shayla stood up, balling her hands into fists at her sides. “Well, I don’t care anymore.”

“Shayla!”

“Just, let me be.”

With that, she turned around and stormed out of the room, leaving Leafa alone in her throne. The Basileaus sighed, running a hand through what little remained of her hair. There was a certain quality about Shayla that she just didn’t understand. When the girl left a room, she never really left. There was always a part of her that stayed behind, smoldering like an ember.



The halls of Ganondorf’s glorious palace were bleak and dank and to be perfectly honest, that’s just how he liked it. As he followed his chief lieutenant, Sarjenka, down the corridors to the dungeon, he listened to the haunting echo of water dripping somewhere out of sight. This was a sound he particularly enjoyed, although, for the life of him, he couldn’t really say why.

In reality, he was genuinely annoyed right now. The day had started off on a sour note. A Sheikah had been spotted spying on the castle, but he managed to escape without being caught. Ganondorf loathed incompetence, especially from his own people. He had had the guards on duty executed as an example to the others. Failure would not be tolerated. After all, he had done his utmost to have all the Sheikahs in Hyrule eliminated. He was quite certain there were only a handful left. Unfortunately, the most important of them had managed to elude his grasp for six years now.

As if that weren’t enough of a nuisance, he had also been informed that the pesky Sage of Light, Rauru, was on the move. Ganondorf had no idea what the old fool was plotting, but he knew it would spell trouble for him. He had sent several of his best Gerudo spies to try and find out what the old man was up to, but none of them had returned. Ganondorf felt fairly certain they had been eliminated. He would have to remember to order Sarjenka to begin training some new spies.

It was after all of this that Sarjenka had appeared before him, saying that she had news that would please him immensely. She insisted that he follow her at once. Most of the time, Ganondorf was disinclined to take orders from anyone, least of all his subjects, but Sarjenka was a special case. Time and time again, she had proven a vicious and cunning accomplice. He reserved a special place in his ranks for her. After all, it had been Sarjenka who had engineered the clever plot by which they had disposed of Nabooru, the Alpha of the largest Gerudo pride, who was adamantly opposed to Ganondorf’s reign.

“What’s this all about, Sarjenka?” Ganondorf asked as they made their way through the halls.

“I didn’t think it was possible,” she replied, shoving a servant out of the path, “but it seems that they’ve finally managed to break Prisoner 5013.”

This surprised Ganondorf more than he was willing to admit. All the prisoners in his dungeon were stripped of their identities upon arrival. Instead, they were given numbers instead of their names. Still, Ganondorf remembered 5013. 5013 had been in a thorn in his side for quite some time now. “Really?” he drawled.

“Yes,” Sarjenka said with a nod.

“I was beginning to think that nothing could break him.”

“As was I,” she said quickly.

Ganondorf smiled. Sarjenka knew her place well enough. “What made the difference?” He was genuinely curious about this one. They had attempted every single form of torture they could devise to break 5013, but nothing had ever worked before. The man’s resolve was like steel, even if his body was like jelly.

“I don’t know, precisely.”

“What do you mean?”

Sarjenka shrugged. “He was as stubborn as always. Sapphia was getting bored with her usual methods. She was planning on instituting some water torture next week. But all of a sudden, he just…cracked.”

“Cracked?”

“Yes.”

“What does that mean?”

“Well…” Sarjenka had reached the doorway to the dungeon. Grasping the sturdy iron ring in the middle of the door, she yanked it open, pulling it aside for Ganondorf to step through. “See for yourself,” she finished, making a sweeping gesture with her hand toward the door.

“Hmph,” Ganondorf snorted, walking past Sarjenka and descending into the depths of the dungeon.

It was pleasantly cool and dank down there. Lines of cells ran from one end of the dungeon to the other. At the front of the lines sat Sapphia crossing names off of a scroll. She looked up when Ganondorf and Sarjenka entered. Immediately, she jumped to her feet, drawing the ceremonial blades from her sides and crossing them in front of her chest. “What is your will?” she asked Ganondorf reverently.

“Sarjenka tells me you’ve successfully broken 5013,” he said. “Finally,” he added.

“Well, I’m afraid I can’t take all of the credit for it,” Sapphia replied.

“Where is he?”

Suddenly, from somewhere in the depths of the dungeon, the three Gerudos heard an insane wail rise up. It didn’t really sound like a person, nor did it sound like an animal. It seemed to be somewhere in between. “Just follow the noise,” Sapphia told him with a withered expression.

His curiosity peaked, Ganondorf walked down the line of cells, the prisoners with strength left in them rattling the bars and crying out to him. He ignored their petty shouts, following the sound of the animalistic moaning. “He’s been doing that all morning,” Sarjenka sighed.

At the end of the cellblock, Ganondorf located 5013’s cell. As he peered in through the bars, he saw the quivering mass that had once been a proud Sheikah, huddled in a corner, on a small pile of straw. He cradled his shaved head in his hands, yowling like a wolf. Ganondorf realized, however, that in between screams, he was muttering to himself softly.

“What’s he saying?” Ganondorf asked, glancing sideways at Sarjenka.

“Stand up, prisoner!” Sarjenka barked.

Ganondorf was about to tell her that this was not what he had ordered, but much to his surprise, the prisoner began mumbling a bit louder than before. “There are so few of us left. Everyone else is occupied with royal business. Kaya’s coming with me. Give her some credit. She did help us out of a tight spot during a certain first contact situation.” He paused to scream loudly before continuing in his mad jumble of word salad.

“What’s he talking about?” Ganondorf snapped.

“Listen,” Sarjenka warned him.

“She’s going to have to stay here with you. Impa! You’re watching after one child.”

“Impa? The royal nursemaid?” Suddenly, Ganondorf understood why he had been summoned. “Has he said anything else about her? Does he know where she’s hiding the Princess?”

“We can’t understand most of what he’s saying,” Sarjenka admitted.

The prisoner went right on babbling. “Another shouldn’t be too terrible. And Shayla isn’t high maintenance. She can feed and dress herself. Is it so shameful to say that you’re watching after your own daughter for awhile?”

A sly smile forming on his face, Ganondorf turned to look at Sarjenka. He caught her eyes. They were both thinking the same thing.



To the west of the village, there was an old pass that no one ever went near. It had been carved through a hill centuries ago by some of the original inhabitants of Kakariko. Back then, it was a special trap, designed to keep intruding animals out of the village. Unfortunately, there was one animal it hadn’t entirely been able to shut out. Of course, the trap had long been taken apart. The sharp hemlock spiked stakes were gone, leaving nothing but a deep pit in the ground, flanked by smooth walls, carved with an archaic warning. The Hylians called it the Sheikah Way, after seven Sheikahs who had perished there.

Since no one would go near the pass, it served as an ideal meeting place. Shayla knew this of course, so when she decided to assemble the militant youths it seemed like the perfect spot. They arrived in twos and threes, looking around nervously for fear of being seen breaking the new Human curfew. Leonid was the first. Of course. He dropped down into the pit, landing in a crouch with one hand on the ground, the other at his side. Shayla was already at the bottom of the pit. She looked up at him with a smirk. “Show off.”

Gradually, the others began to arrive. They had been meeting at the pit for many months now, all of them disgruntled with the state of things in the village. As they arrived, they all seemed to have the same thought on their minds; the disastrous meeting in the Human Quarter.

“Well, that went well,” Jessa said snidely.

“Maybe next time we can do it naked,” her sister Kaylee added.

“Shut up,” Shayla growled at them.

“Leafa really showed you up,” Kaylee continued.

“Stop it!” Leonid called, getting in between the women before Shayla could pummel Kaylee into a fine pulp. “Clearly, the others weren’t ready to listen to what we had to say. We knew that was a possibility.”

Kaylee sniffed indignantly, folding her arms across her chest. “I know,” she mumbled.

“We can’t start fighting amongst ourselves,” he continued diplomatically. “We have too much at stake. That would just be playing into the Hylians’ hands.”

“Right,” Shayla muttered.

“She should know,” Kaylee snorted, “she’s one of them.”

“That’s it!” Shayla started. She launched herself forward, nails poised to gouge out her eyes.

“Stop them!” Leonoid shouted.

Instantly, two boys grabbed Shayla’s arms, pulling her back. Leonid wrapped his arms around Kaylee and pulled her away. When the two were separated, everyone seemed to calm down gradually. By the time all the members of the group had arrived, the quarrel was forgotten and Shayla called them to order with her natural, dramatic authority.

“All right,” she said, looking at each of them. “So we’ve learned that the rest of the villagers aren’t ready to join in our crusade. That doesn’t mean we need to stop working. We want to send the Hylians a message and that’s what we’re going to do. The question is, how?”

“I say we just start writing proclamations dictating their lives,” a young man named Warden sneered.

“They’d just take that as a joke,” Jessa shot back. “We want them to take us seriously.”

“Which means, we have to do something serious,” Leonid noted.

“Absolutely correct,” Shayla said with a nod. “We can’t just fight fire with fire; we have to hit them where it really hurts.”

“We don’t actually want to hurt them though, right?” Jessa asked, suddenly growing timid.

“You heard what Leafa said,” Warden muttered, “they could easily slaughter all of us.”

“What we need,” Shayla said, “is a big symbolic gesture that will require minimal effort.”

“Symbolic gesture?” Leonid repeated.

“A public figure,” Jesse said suddenly.

Everyone turned to look at her. “Huh?” someone grunted from the darkness of the night.

“What we need to do is humiliate a public figure. It means only doing something small to one person, but it would have massive consequences on the population as a whole.”

“Humiliate?” Warden scoffed. “I say we kill.”

“No!” Leonid said quickly. “The second we pick up a weapon, we become one of them.”

Shayla glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “Let’s worry less about what we’re going to do and more about who we’re going to do it to,” she told them.

“Who would the people give anything to protect?” Jessa wondered.

“Their Princess,” Shayla snorted. “Unfortunately, she’s dead.”

“That’s not true,” Kaylee suddenly chimed in.

At once, everyone turned to look at her. “What?” asked one of the surprised freedom fighters.

“It’s not true,” Kaylee repeated with a slight shrug.

“How do you know?” Leonid questioned her.

“Well, I was walking through the market yesterday, and I heard some people talking about the Sheikahs.”

“The sworn protectors of the royal family?”

“Yeah. One of them was saying how surprised she was to see that the Princess’s nursemaid was still alive.”

Jessa furrowed her brow with a frown. “Nursemaid?”

“Yeah. Apparently, her name is Impa. Anyway, they think she went into hiding or something, but she got sloppy. Someone saw her out and about in the village.”

Warden folded his big, beefy arms across his chest. “So?”

“So, where there’s a nursemaid, there must be a Princess.”

Leonid raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry. Are you saying that you think the Princess is in hiding?”

“I haven’t finished the story yet,” Kaylee said indignantly.

He sighed. “Go on.”

“Well, they say Impa’s taken a new apprentice.”

Everyone was a bit startled by this. Cautiously, Jessa leaned forward. “So she has an apprentice?”

Kaylee shrugged. “Well, obviously, that’s got to be the Princess. What’s a better way to hide something than in plain sight?”

“She has a point there,” Warden grunted.

“I don’t know…” Jessa countered with a slight frown. “It’s hard to believe a Sheikah could get so sloppy.”

“Anything is possible,” Leonid pointed out. “I mean, I’m not saying I believe it for certain, but anything is possible.” He turned to look at Shayla. “What do you think?” he asked her.

She remained silent for some time, her thoughts clearly jumbled. Finally, she nodded slightly. “I think it’s a good idea,” she told them.

Several of the youths let out excited whispers, filled with the prospect of some decisive action at long last. Leonid seemed a bit disappointed. “Are you sure? It seems far fetched.”

“No, it’s a good plan.” Shayla clapped her hands together. “Listen up, here’s what we’re going to do.” She pointed to Jessa and Kaylee, “I want you two to get into the cheapest Hylian part of the village. Start asking around for two Sheikahs. Don’t identify them by name; we don’t want them to think we’re looking for Impa specifically. Just say…say your mistress told you to find her, but you’re completely lost. Do whatever you have to in order to find their position.”

“Right!” Jessa said firmly.

“Okay,” Kaylee agreed, all thoughts of their earlier quarrel long forgotten in the heat of the moment.

Shayla turned to Warden. “I want you to prepare a strike team. As soon as we manage to locate Impa and the Princess, we’ll close in on them. You take the lead. Bring as many people as you need.”

Warden nodded. “I can do that.”

“Now, this is very important: You must take the Princess alive. No screw ups. You can fight as hard as you want, you can knock her unconscious, you can beat her up if you have to, but do not kill her.”

“No killing. Check.”

Leonid cleared his throat. “What about the Sheikah nursemaid?” he asked carefully.

Without bothering to look at Leonid, Shayla shrugged. “We have no interest in her.”

“I suppose.” Leonid glanced at Warden. “All the same, you really shouldn’t kill her.”

“She’s going to give you trouble though, Warden,” Kaylee warned him. “The Sheikahs are tough.”

“They’re tough,” Shayla agreed, “but even they can’t win against steep odds. Make sure there are a lot more of us than there are of her.”

“Are you sure we should let her live?” Warden wondered.

“Let her live,” Shayla told him darkly. “Let her live with the humiliation of knowing that she failed in her most sacred duty. Bring me the Princess.”



The rock garden was a far cry from the beautiful courtyards of North Castle. Instead of azaleas, the ground merely sprouted stones. Instead of rose bushes, piles of small pebbles slipped and slid from time to time, depending on the temperament of the wind. Still, it was home, the best that Impa could eek out for her charge during their time in hiding.

Impa sat on a stone, holding a long twig in her fingers. The moon was veiled by the clouds, cloaking the quarry in nearly complete darkness. She absently pushed around a few rocks, listening to the clinking noise they made against the ground and wondering what they looked like. Zelda walked out of the cavern where they had set up their tent, holding a canteen and a lantern. She had removed her mask, making her beautiful face visible. “I wish you wouldn’t do that,” Impa said for what was probably the five thousandth time.

“I know,” Zelda answered, handing her the canteen. “But I need to breathe some fresh air. Only for a little while.”

“Who am I to begrudge you air?” Impa mumbled good-naturedly, accepting the canteen.

Zelda sat on a ledge, pulling her knees up to her chest. “You were uneasy with Yonah,” she commented absently.

After unscrewing the canteen, Impa glanced up. “Was I?” With that, she took a long drink.

Zelda wasn’t ready to let the topic drop, however. “You were. You are almost every time we see her.”

“I don’t mean to be,” Impa replied when she could no longer hold her breath to drink. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Of course not,” Zelda added quickly. “I only meant that it’s something I’ve observed about you.”

“You’re getting very good at the art of noticing,” Impa told her with a small smile.

“I had an excellent trainer,” Zelda answered.

Impa laughed. “I don’t know about excellent but –”

“Still, I have noticed how ill at ease Yonah seems to make you,” Zelda interrupted. “Why is that?”

“Well, that’s a complicated question,” Impa sighed.

“Explain it to me.”

“It’s a long story.”

“Well, we’re not going anywhere.” Zelda glanced around them, at the dismal place they called home.

“I’m sorry it’s so rotten here,” Impa said softly.

“Don’t be sorry,” Zelda chided her. “You’ve done your best. I wouldn’t expect anything more than this.”

“You’re a bit too generous to me.”

“And you’re still avoiding the subject,” Zelda sang back.

“What subject?”

“Yonah.”

“Oh.”

Zelda leaned forward, looking Impa in the eyes. “I’ve never seen you so clandestine before about anything.”

“I wouldn’t hide anything from you.”

“So tell me what’s wrong.”

She sighed. “It’s just a personal matter.”

“You have personal matters?” Zelda joked.

“Hard to believe, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” Zelda leaned back on her elbows. “You barely ever left my side when I was a child. I had begun to think that you were a part of the castle and that when I went to bed at night, you disappeared into the ether.”

Impa laughed. “Did you really?”

“Well…no, not really. But you were certainly an enormous presence in my life.”

“My duty has always been to you. Even before you were born.”

“Were you there when I was born?”

“Yes,” Impa said with a nod.

“What do you remember about that night?”

She frowned a little, searching her memories for a time, some seventeen years ago. “I remember…I remember feeling rather nervous.”

“Nervous?”

“Yes.”

“About what?”

“About seeing too much.”

Zelda scowled. “I don’t understand.”

“I’m not sure I do either,” Impa admitted.

“You were nervous?”

“And excited too,” Impa said quickly. “Sheikahs…we train our entire lives to serve the royal family. Back then, there were more of us than there were of you. At the time, it was the greatest honor imaginable to be named a personal attendant to a member of the royal family. Most Sheikahs were lucky if they got to meet face to face with one of you once in their lives.”

“How were you named my guardian?” Zelda asked curiously, tilting her head to one side as she used to do when she was little.

“I…well, it was my first command. A total disaster, but Yonah was impressed with the way I handled the situation.”

“Diaster?”

Impa went on without explaining. “She came to the site of where North Castle was built within the next few months. She congratulated me on a job well done and promoted me to full warrior status. Glas was so happy for me he…” Impa trailed off abruptly, but it was too late.

Zelda caught the abrupt shift in her nursemaid’s demeanor. “Glas?” she repeated curiously.

“The healer who was assigned to my team,” Impa said briskly, turning her eyes away from the Princess.

“I’ve heard that name before. I think I remember him. Didn’t he come to the castle once to speak with you?”

“Yes,” Impa mumbled absently. “He did. A few hours before the attack of the Gerudo.”

A twig cracked. Immediately, Impa and Zelda both tensed like cats, staring into the air as if it would tell them the answers. “What was that?” Zelda finally whispered breathily.

Impa didn’t reply. Instead, she continued to stay frozen, waiting to hear another sound. Nothing came. “I don’t know…” she finally admitted.

“It was probably just a Deku Baba,” Zelda sighed after another tense moment or two.

“Probably,” Impa consented.

Suddenly, there was a loud cry from somewhere over the rock ridge. Before either Zelda or Impa could react, a stampede of dark figures began racing over the ridge to descend on them. “Definitely not a Deku Baba!” Zelda cried, jumping to her feet and pulling up her mask. Her sudden and abrupt movement caused her lantern to fall over, plunging the quarry into darkness.

By this point, the dark figures had reached the bottom of the ridge. Impa had already drawn a knife. She raced forward to the throng, but there were nearly two dozen of them. All of them fell upon Zelda. Valiantly, Zelda began trying to fend them off, using the fighting techniques Impa had taught her. She whirled around, swinging her left wrist to take out as many of them as possible. Crouching down, she managed to catch several of them off guard, tripping up their ankles. About three of them fell to the ground with yelps of surprise. Another one fell into his comrades, slowing them down just a little bit.

Impa shouted loudly, trying to draw some of them in her direction. Much to her surprise, they didn’t seem interested in taking her down, even though she was the one with a weapon while Zelda was unarmed. “Come here, you Gerudo scum!” Impa roared at them.

“Take the Princess alive!” a voice shouted. Impa’s heart raced into panic. It was a male voice! For a split second, she was certain Ganondorf Dragmire himself was leading this attack, but suddenly, the clouds shifted, allowing a beam of moonlight to fall on the scene. All at once, she realized her error. They weren’t Gerudos who were attacking. They were Humans!

Quickly, Impa threw herself into the throng. She swung her knife expertly at one of the Humans, but much to her surprise, he managed to duck clear of the swipe. Where had these Humans picked up such great fighting skills? A second Human caught Impa’s arm from behind, pulling it as far back as it would go. Impa’s face contorted in pain. The Human squeezed her pressure point. She let out a shout and reluctantly opened her fingers, letting the knife drop.

Zelda was fighting a losing battle. She managed to sock a woman in the jaw, but two more had just dropped from the ridge. They both grabbed her arm while a rather burly man grabbed her other arm. With a grunt, Zelda kicked off from the ground, trying to nail a few of them in the face. Her right left flailed and missed. Her left leg cuffed one of them in the ear, but that didn’t seem to deter him.

“Stop!” Impa shouted, “That’s not the Princess! That’s my apprentice Sheik! Stop it! You don’t know what you’re doing!”

“Shut her up before she draws attention to us!” one of the girls hissed. And they were boys and girls. Impa realized now that the Humans she was fighting against were all Zelda’s age or younger. None of them would remember her from her first contact with Kakariko.

“Listen to me! I know Leafa! Leafa is my –” Impa didn’t get to finish. One of the youngsters knocked her on the side of the head, right where Hylians were most vulnerable to blows. She dropped like a rock, falling unconscious before she hit the ground.

“Do yourself a favor and shut up, Princess,” the leader of the Human attack team said.

“Please don’t hurt me.”

“I said, shut up!” With that, he cuffed her on the back of the head, hitting the same vulnerable target. Like Impa, Zelda crumpled, but she was unable to fall because so many Humans were laying hands on her.

“You shouldn’t have done that, Warden,” someone said.

“If she kept screaming, we’d be spotted,” Warden shot back angrily.

“Come on,” a third voice said, “Let’s get out of here.”



Menteith slithered on his belly, traversing over the support beam, safely engulfed in the shadows of the ceiling. Below him, he saw several Gerudo guards walking down the hall, talking casually about some new game that was popular in Kasuto. He watched them pass underneath him, grateful that they couldn’t hear the frightful pounding of his heart as hit thumped against the inside of his ribcage. One false step and he absolutely knew that he would be wishing for death.

Only a short while ago, he had managed to elude capture by a few sentries. They all thought he had run back to the Sheikah stronghold no doubt. About halfway down the road though, he decided to double back and return to Ganondorf’s palace. His work wasn’t finished and he certainly wasn’t going to return to Yonah without something to show for it. There were so few Sheikahs left in Hyrule, he didn’t want to let her down. No, he simply wouldn’t return until he had collected some information on Ganondorf’s movements.

Unfortunately, the problem with collecting information about movement was that it seemed as though Ganondorf wasn’t going anywhere. For almost two years now, the Gerudo prince had barely stirred from his castle. Of course, there was plenty of hearsay about what he was doing, but nothing concrete. Some people thought he was after the Triforce, though he already had a third of it in his possession. Others suspected that he planned to start an invasion of Holodrum, a Hylian colony that had been settled only a few decades ago. Still others held the firm conviction that Ganondorf’s desires lay in finding the rogue Gerudo Alpha called Nabooru who had completely vanished from sight years ago.

Whatever it was that Ganondorf was planning Menteith had his heart set on finding out. As he crawled across the beam, digging his nails into the sides for balance, he tried his best to follow the sound of Ganondorf’s voice. He could hear the Gerudo approaching, deep in conversation with one of his women. Menteith peered below, watching the deserted hallway for a sign of shade. As the voices grew louder, two long shadows began to form on the floor, getting smaller as two figures approached Menteith’s position.

“I think we should just put him out of his misery,” a voice that Menteith recognized as Sarjenka’s said.

“I didn’t ask what you thought,” Ganondorf snapped.

“I apologize.”

There was a moment of silence, filled only with footsteps, before Ganondorf spoke again. “He may be of use to us yet.”

“How?”

“Din only knows what other bits of trivia he has up in that demented head of his. We should collect all we can before dealing with his fate.”

“Correct as usual,” Sarjenka fawned.

The figures finally appeared in Menteith’s sightlines, approaching from behind. His lip curled at the gruesome sight of Dragmire. Every waking nightmare Menteith had was either about Ganondorf or about a woman he had once known named Nuria. Sarjenka was a sharp contrast to her master though. With skin much paler than typical for a Gerudo, her red hair shone brighter, falling a bit past her shoulders in several parts, fastened with ruby barrettes.

Carefully, Menteith began to creep along the beam, following Ganondorf and Sarjenka as best he could as they passed through the corridor. It was a fairly long hallway, but they were approaching the broad double doors to Ganondorf’s throne room and Menteith knew he would only have a short period of time to listen in before they were closed away from him.

“Of course,” Ganondorf was saying, lapping up the flattery like a cat lapped warm milk.

“What do you plan to do now, in light of the new information?” she asked him carefully.

Menteith’s ears perked up. New information? Now he was curious. “I want to assemble an attack squad,” Dragmire said.

“An attack squad?”

“Yes. Go town, Sarjenka. See if you can dig up anything on this mysterious Shayla.”

“I doubt there will be much,” Sarjenka mumbled.

“You’re probably right.”

“After all, if you didn’t know of her existence until just now, it’s likely that she’s been kept a very well guarded secret.”

“True,” Ganondorf replied, “which is why we need to think in unconventional ways.”

“Unconventional?”

“Instead of looking for a birth certificate or family tree, I want you to look up common things.”

“Such as?”

“Head to the ranch. See if you can find her name on delivery slips for milk or receipts for horse rentals. Stick to the most mundane places where someone would sign their name.”

“As you wish,” she answered. Menteith was certain he saw Sarjenka frown suddenly. “But why do you want an attack squad?”

Ganondorf chuckled. “Once you’ve pinned down Shayla’s location, I intend to attack it.”
“Do you intend to kill her?”

“No, that would be fun, but nowhere near as useful.”

“Useful?”

“This girl has been hidden for a reason. She has an important connection to the royals. Find me that girl and we can find Princess Zelda.”

“Do you really think it’ll work?”

“Never underestimate the maternal instincts of a woman,” Ganondorf alleged wisely.

Menteith scowled. What did that mean? Sarjenka seemed to understand. “We’ll find her,” she promised.

“Good,” Ganondorf mumbled. “Good.”

Sarjenka folded her arms across her chest. “I wonder if she’ll be able to withstand Sapphia’s handiwork as well as her father.”

“It will be an interesting little experiment, won’t it?”

“Yes.”

Another little laugh escaped from Ganondorf. “I’ll lay down fifty Rupees saying that she breaks long before he did.”

“Fifty Rupees?”

“And my horse.”

“I’ll take that bet.”

They had reached the door to the throne room. Ganondorf put a hand on the panel, but turned to look at Sarjenka. “Get me Shayla. Shayla’s the key to finding Princess Zelda. And Princess Zelda is the key to completing the Triforce. Don’t fail me.”

“Rather than let you down, I would die,” Sarjenka told him earnestly.

“That’s what I had in mind.”

With that, Ganondorf opened the door and marched into the throne room, letting it slam shut behind him with a fantastic crack. Sarjenka remained motionless in the hallway for a moment longer before turning around and heading back in the opposite direction. Menteith followed her for a few moments, until she turned and started down another hallway. Unable to jump onto the support beam going that way, Menteith remained where he was, allowing himself to rest for a bit.

He had gotten his wish. He had gathered a bit of information about what Ganondorf was up to, but for the life of him, he couldn’t understand it. Shayla? That was clearly a Sheikah name, but Menteith had never met anyone called Shayla. Since there were so few Sheikahs left, he felt fairly certain that he would have at least have known about the existence of this girl. How was she connected to Princess Zelda? Everyone knew that Impa was the only person aware of Zelda’s location. And who was this prisoner they had been speaking about? The one they had broken and set a wager on? Filled with more questions than answers, Menteith resolved to return to the Sheikah stronghold and let them piece it all together.



By the time Shayla arrived back at the meeting place, everyone was already there, buzzing with excitement. A small tent had been erected, made up of the old hides that were once used to shield the village homes from the rains, back before the Hylians moved in. All of the people in Shayla’s militia were standing outside of the tent flap, whispering excitedly.

“Is it done?” she asked, spotting Warden in the throng and immediately crossing over to him.

“Mission accomplished,” he told her proudly.

“Well done, my friend,” she congratulated him, clapping him on the back and clasping his wrist for a brisk shake.

“We shouldn’t all stand around here,” Leonid hissed as he spotted Shayla in the crowd.

“Agreed,” Jessa said. “We’ll only draw attention to ourselves.”

“The last thing we want is someone kidnapping the person we just kidnapped,” Kaylee said with a laugh.

“Correct,” Shayla said vaguely.

“So?” Leonid prompted her. “What’s the plan?”

“We’ll take watch in shifts, three people per shift. One in the tent, one flanking, and a third from the top of the hill. Leonid and Kaylee, stay with me for the first shift, the rest of you go home and get some sleep.” Everyone mumbled their assent. “You should all be proud of yourselves,” Shayla called after them as they began to depart. “We’ve accomplished the impossible. Something even Ganondorf Dragmire himself couldn’t do.”

“Now they’ll take us Humans seriously,” Jessa laughed triumphantly.

“Peace and long life to all of you,” Shayla said.

The crowd soon departed, leaving only Leonid, Kaylee, and Shayla behind. “I’ll go up to the hill,” Leonid volunteered.

“Fine,” Shayla agreed. “Keep watch for anyone approaching from the ruins of North Castle.”

“Right,” he said with a nod before turning around and vanishing into the darkness of the night.

Shayla turned to face Kaylee. “I’ll take the inside of the tent. You flank. Try and keep yourself out of sight.”

“Okay,” she replied, turning around and walking deeper into the shadows of the old pit.

Left alone, Shayla braced herself, taking a deep breath before she slowly turned around and ducked into the hide tent. The inside was surprisingly barren; the tent didn’t even have a bottom, it merely stood over the old, blunted stumps of the hemlock stakes that had once been planted on the cavern floor. A single pole in the middle held up the hides, allowing them to slope down like the sides of a pyramid. It was to this post that Zelda was tied.

Much to Shayla’s disappointment, Zelda was wide awake, watching the entrance as the girl came in. She looked quite the same as Shayla remembered, with her long, corn silk blond hair and those irritatingly beautiful blue eyes. At present, she was sporting a typical Sheikah uniform of gray and purple, with a deep red Sheikah eye sewn into her chest. There were some bandages around her wrists and many more on the floor. Dimly, Shayla recalled that sometimes Sheikahs used white gauze for masks, but Zelda was unmasked now.

“Did Yonah send you?” Zelda asked, spying Shayla’s long pointed ears and her Sheikah eyes.

“You’re mistaken, Princess,” Shayla replied icily. “I’m not here to rescue you. I’m here to stand guard.”

“You’re working with the Humans? Oh. I see. What do they want with me, then?”

“They want nothing with you,” Shayla said.

“Then what’s this all about?”

“This is about justice.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You wouldn’t,” Shayla sniffed indignantly, pacing back and forth in front of Zelda.

“Do you presume to know something about me?” Zelda mumbled, raising an eyebrow.

“I know much about you,” she snapped back.

“And what do you know?”

“You are the great Princess Zelda. People would give up their very lives, nay, the very lives of their children for your sake. You are the figurehead of Hyrule for the Hylians, aren’t you?”

“Some might say that,” Zelda agreed. “Although I doubt anyone would sacrifice their children for my sake.”

“Oh, ignorance is bliss for you, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of course not. That would require you to think about someone besides yourself. Someone once told me there were no monsters in North Castle. They never met you.”

“How dare you accuse me of such selfishness? I’ve given up my life to keep Ganondorf Dragmire from possessing the Triforce.
“I don’t care about the Triforce,” Shayla said bitterly. “I don’t care about the Spiritual Stones or the Moon Pearl or the Sacred Pendants of Virtue. And I don’t care about you.”

“Your hostility seems to prove the contrary.”

Shayla pulled back her hand and slapped Zelda across the face. “Don’t try to read me.”

Zelda turned her face to one side, taking the blow with dignity. “You go against your line,” she said softly.

“I am not a Sheikah,” Shayla answered. “And I do not follow the Sheikah Way. I care about the lives of my family more than I care about your pathetic existence, Princess Zelda.”

“Your family?”

She gestured out the flap of the tent. “The Humans. Or ‘Kludges’ as the Hylians call them. Your people have oppressed them for far too long.”

“Oppressed? Kludges? What do you mean?”

“What do I mean?” Shayla laughed. “Where shall I begin? How about the ten percent tithe? Or the seizure of our lands? Or maybe I should begin with the brand new curfew?”

“Tithe? Seizure? Curfew?”

“That’s what I said, Princess.”

“I have not been made aware of any of this,” Zelda told her softly. There seemed to be genuine surprise and concern in her voice.

“Ignorance is bliss.”

“I did not ask to be kept ignorant of this!” Zelda snapped.

“So there’s some fire in the ice after all,” Shayla remarked, surprised by the sudden outburst.

“You have no idea what I’ve had to endure,” Zelda said thickly.

“You have no idea what I’ve had to endure,” Shayla countered. “And what my people have had to endure, that’s painfully clear to me now.”

“When it’s in my power, I promise you, I will set things right for the Humans of Hyrule again.”

“When it’s in your power. And how long will that be, Princess? Ten years? Twenty? Perhaps a hundred? I’m told you Hylians are very long lived, much more so than the petty Humans, your beasts of burden.”

“You must be patient.”

“We’re tired of waiting.” Shayla wagged a finger in Zelda’s face. “This ends now.”

Zelda shook her head mournfully. “I’m sorry,” she said softly.

“Sorry for what?”

“I’m sorry for whatever’s put this much rage into your heart. You must have suffered something truly awful.”

Shayla backhanded Zelda again, grunting furiously. “Get out of my head,” she barked.

“I don’t need to read you to know the truth,” Zelda explained gently. “I can see the rage smoldering in your eyes.”

“Stay away from my eyes.”

“What happened to you?”

“Shut up!”

“It was something awful, wasn’t it?”

“How many more times must I strike you?” Shayla growled.

“It doesn’t matter,” the Princess replied.

“Know your place. You’re my prisoner now. And in this world, I control your fate. It’s not the other way around.”

With that, Shayla spun around, her long dreadlocks whipping around her face. She stormed out of the tent, the clumsy old sword thumping against her side. Zelda sat still, watching her go. Her cheek stung, but she knew that would pass. What weighed heavily on her mind was the mystery of this Sheikah girl who was leading a Human revolution. In all her days, Zelda had never once met a Sheikah who wasn’t steadfastly obedient to the royal line. Something truly horrible must have happened to this one, but Zelda could only guess at what it was.



Leafa trailed her fingers along the woven armrest of her wicker throne. She found it completely improbable that the delicate craft had managed to survive all these years, yet, like the Human spirit, it managed to endure. Somehow. Leafa allowed her fingers to fall into the crevices of the weaving, feeling the smooth wicker on her skin. In the past few years, she had come to be very tactile, but she wasn’t sure why.

Tully was sitting at her feet, staring out into space. They both knew that something was happening, but they didn’t know what exactly. The disaffected youth of the Human Quarter had been surprisingly quite tonight. “What are you thinking about, Tully?” she asked quietly, so the ceremonial bodyguards couldn’t hear her. They still stayed staunchly at her side, though the traditions had long faded and Leafa wasn’t legally allowed to have guards.

“Leonid,” Tully replied.

She nodded slightly. This didn’t surprise her. “You know that Leonid and Shayla –”

“I know.”

“Do you approve?”

“You’ll find,” he told her wisely, “that young men rarely care about the approval of their fathers when it comes to –”

“I know.” She closed her eyes, leaning back against the chair. “You’ll find that young women are much the same.” There was a hissing sound. Though her eyes were closed, Leafa saw the back of her eyelids light up with a bright green glow. She opened her eyes to find the dying ethers of a spell, Farore’s Wind, if she remembered correctly. Standing in the center of the room was a figure out of the past, the Sheikah known as Impa.

Immediately, the honor guards standing around the room picked up their bows, nocking arrows and taking aim at Impa. Already, Tully jumped to his feet, standing protectively in front of his Basileaus. “Leafa,” Impa called in a loud, clearly angry voice, “I would speak with you.”

“Kneel before our Basileaus,” one of the guards sneered angrily, indignant at this Hylian breech of etiquette.

“I will do no such thing,” Impa replied angrily.

“You are intruding on the sacred Human meeting house.”

“I’m not the one who committed the first offense.”

“Kneel before the Basileaus!”

“No!”

Leafa sat up straight then leaned forward to look at Impa. “I once knelt to you as a goddess,” she said quietly.

Their eyes locked for a moment and a certain understanding passed between the two of them. Slowly, making a face of disgust, Impa knelt down on one knee, never once tearing her eyes away from Leafa’s face. “State your business here,” Tully ordered her gruffly.

“Leave us,” Leafa proclaimed, holding up a hand.

Exchanging quizzical looks the bodyguards lowered their weapons, filing out of the room with confused looks. Tully turned to Leafa. “Leafa I really –”

“You too, Tully,” she said softly.

He opened his mouth to object but then closed it. Offering her a curt nod, he marched out of the room, closing the door behind him and leaving the two women alone. At once, Impa sprang up to her feet, eyeing Leafa angrily. “I demand that you return what you’ve taken,” she said.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Leafa answered, leaning back in her chair.

“You know perfectly well,” Impa retorted.

“We can play this game all night.”

“You’ve really crossed the line Leafa.”

“You’re one to talk about crossing the line.”

“And what’s that mean?”

“The offenses committed by your people against me and mine are completely outrageous.”

“I did not have a hand in that. I’ve been in hiding.”

“So I understand. From what I hear, all the Sheikahs are. I once thought of you as gods. I was wrong. And I wish to whatever gods do exist that they had sent someone else to air your grievances.”

“Grievances?” Impa laughed bitterly. “You call that a grievance?”

“I don’t know what to call a grievance.”

“Your people have kidnapped Princess Zelda!”

Leafa blinked in surprise. “What?”

“You heard me. Two dozen of your people descended on my haven and kidnapped the Princess.”

This genuinely surprised Leafa. She raised a hand to her mouth, breathing in sharply. “Oh no.”

Impa blinked. This was not the reaction she had been expecting. “What?” she prompted.

“Oh no…” Leafa repeated, her spine collapsing with despair.

“What?!?”

“I didn’t think they’d actually do it.”

“Who?”

“There have been some young people living in the Human Quarter who have been less than impressed by the way the Hylians have treated us. I’ve heard them murmuring thoughts of treason, but I never thought it would get this far. I can’t believe they actually acted on those threats.”

“Then you weren’t responsible for the kidnapping?”

“No. Of course not.”

“Oh.” Impa seemed moderately satisfied by this. “Then you can demand that they release Princess Zelda back to my custody.”

Leafa shook her head. “No. I can’t.”

“What? What do you mean?”

The Basileaus sighed softly. “I can’t control them anymore, Impa. They’re too wild. You remember what it’s like to be that young.”

“Unfortunately.” Impa sighed. “I’ll return to the Sheikah camp and see if they can spare anyone to help me locate your people.”

“Don’t hurt them.”

“Only if they hurt me or the Princess first.”

“I pray they don’t.” She paused for a moment. “Why did you come here, Impa? Before, it was always Kaya who came to meet me, but for the last few years, I haven’t seen or heard from her.” Impa’s face stiffened and she turned away from the Basileaus. Leafa frowned, leaning forward. “What?” she wondered.

Impa cleared her throat carefully. “Kaya and Glas were sent on a diplomatic mission to the Gorons six years ago,” she said in perfect monotone. “A week later, Kaya’s body was found in the forest. She had a Gerudo blade in between her shoulders. Glas was never…”

And then the most unlikely thing Leafa could have imagined happened. Impa’s voice broke. “Impa?” she asked quietly, rising to her feet. Impa didn’t respond. Instead, she merely jerked her broad shoulders up abruptly. Leafa was almost certain that she heard a sob escape.

“Glas was never found,” Impa blurted out in an incredible rush of words, as though she feared that if they lingered any more, she might lose her composure completely.

Leafa crossed the room, reaching out to put her hands on Impa’s jerking shoulders. “Oh, Impa, I’m so so –”

“I’m not crying,” Impa declared, though she clearly was.

“Of course not,” Leafa said soothingly. An invisible force pushed down on Impa and her knees gave out. She dropped to the ground at Leafa’s feet, holding her face in her hands. Leafa looked down at her for a moment before slowly lowering herself to the ground and pulling the Sheikah’s head into her arms. “I’m so sorry,” she said with a soft sincerity.

“Thank you,” Impa replied quietly. She pulled out of the embrace almost immediately, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

“I’ll do what I can to help you find Zelda,” Leafa promised. “I understand how important she is to you.”

“Thank you, Leafa.”

“Go home. Get yourself some rest. I’ll send my bodyguards out to the field to try and find Shayla and the others before they can –”

Impa started, looking up at Leafa in surprise. “Shayla?” she repeated incredulously.

“My daughter,” Leafa explained. “She’s the ring leader of this faction, I’m afraid. She’s a good girl, but she’s so –”

“Shayla’s living in the Human Quarter?”

Leafa blinked in surprise. “You know her?”

“Quick, tell me; is she a Sheikah?”

For a second, Leafa was at a loss for words. “Well…yes. I adopted her several years ago. Do you know her parents? We never gave up hope that they’d come looking for her.”

Staring into space, Impa nodded numbly. “I knew her father,” she said in a soft, vacant voice.

“Go home,” Leafa said again. “There’s nothing more you can do here right now. I’ll deal with my people and find Zelda for you. Return to the Sheikah stronghold and tell Shayla’s parents that she’s alive. I’m sure that will bring them here and they can collect Zelda as well.”



The rustling of the tall prairie grass caused Leonid’s heart to leap up into his throat. Resisting the urge to run, he picked his way through the grass, moving toward the noise. His heart was thumping in his ears, but he pushed aside the fear, remembering the heroic tales his father had told him about stalking through the grasslands. As he parted the meadow before him, a figure became visible, sitting by the dried up basin that had once been Lake Hylia.

“Shayla?” he whispered. He was certain it was she, even in the merciless darkness of the early morning. Leonid knew her form perfectly, how she walked, how she moved, and the way she sat. Now, he was absolutely certain he could see Shayla sitting by the water, holding her knees against her chest. “Shayla? What are you doing out here?”

“Go away,” she told him hoarsely.

“No.” He walked to her side and sat down by the stagnant puddle. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You always say that,” he remarked.

She shrugged. “I’m not one for talking.”

“No, you never were.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “I heard you arguing with the Princess.”

“You did?”

“I think half of the Hylian wildlife probably heard you.”

“I didn’t mean to get so loud.”

“You never mean to. You’re just a naturally loud person,” he quipped. “You need to make yourself heard.” He was somewhat upset when she didn’t find this funny. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“What have you got against her?”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Maybe not,” he admitted with a shrug. “But sometimes, it’s just good to say things out loud.”

“I don’t want to.”

Leonid scowled, watching her although she was looking away. “Why do you always do this to me?”

“Do what?”

“Shut me out.”

This caused Shayla to look at him for the first time. “I don’t shut you out,” she retorted.

“Yes, you do. You never want to talk about it. Sometimes, Shayla, you have to talk about it. Why not with me?”

She sighed softly. “Do you remember the night we first…?”

“Yes.” He smiled slightly. “How could I forget?”

“But do you remember what happened after?”

“You started crying. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what was wrong. I just wanted to hold you.”

“And I asked you to promise me –”

“That I would never tell anyone,” he finished for her. “I’ve kept my word to you.”

“I know.”

“Why are we talking about this now, though?”

Shayla turned to stare out into the starry sky. “When I was nine years old, my father brought me to the royal palace to meet with my mother,” she said softly. Leonid leaned forward, listening intently. This was the very first time he had ever heard her mention her birth parents. “It was the night that the Gerudo invaded North Castle and killed the King.”

“The night that Leafa and my father found you. I remember it. I remember how they brought you back to the village.”

“That was the night when I realized that my mother didn’t love me,” Shayla said quietly.

Leonid blinked, trying to wrap his mind around what she had just uttered. “What?”

“When the invasion started, I was in the throne room with my mother and Princess Zelda. We saw the fire and knew that there was something very wrong. My mother picked Zelda up and took my hand. She led us through the halls of the castle to a room were a bunch of knights were equipping themselves for the battle. They actually thought they could make a difference.”

“What happened?”

“My mother gave me to one of the knights called Lien and asked him to take me out of the castle. She told me, no matter what, I was to stay with him. And then she went away.”

“Lien? But father told me they found you all alone.”

“A few minutes later, a support beam fell on Lien and killed him.”

“By the gods…”

“And so, I was all alone.”

“And that’s when Leafa found you?”

Shayla shook her head. “No. Not yet.”

“What happened next?”

“I started running,” Shayla said with a dour laugh. “I just ran and ran and ran. I was so afraid. I found myself on the second floor, looking out a window while the castle burned around me. I saw…”

“Saw what?” he prompted her.

She swallowed. “I saw my mother. Riding away from the palace with Princess Zelda on her horse.”

A new awareness suddenly dawned on Leonid. “Then…your mother is…”

“The royal nursemaid,” Shayla muttered.

“Impa.”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell anyone?”

“Why would I do that?”

“So we could return you to where you belong.”

“I don’t belong with her, Leonid. I belong with you.”

“Well…I’m not denying that but…your mother…”

Again, she shook her head. “No, she’s not my mother. Leafa is my mother. Impa didn’t love me.”

“How can you draw such a conclusion?”

Shayla looked at Leonid. “She didn’t pick me, Leonid. She chose to save Princess Zelda instead of me.”

“It seems like she was trying to protect both of you. She gave you to the knight after all. She didn’t know what was going to happen.”

“I believed that at first,” Shayla admitted. “I convinced myself that she didn’t take me on the horse because she didn’t want me to become another target for the Gerudo.”

“But?”

“But,” Shayla sighed, “as the seasons passed and she didn’t come looking for me, I realized that her heart lay with Zelda.” She paused before continuing. “I made a pledge in the fires of North Castle. I vowed that I would never cry again.”

“Which is why you made me swear not to tell anyone,” Leonid concluded easily enough.

“Yes.”

He reached out, gently stroking her arm. “Thank you, Shayla.”

“For what?”

“For trusting me with this.”

“You’re not going to tell anyone, are you?”

“No,” he sighed. “I wouldn’t do that.”

She frowned a little. “But…?” she prompted him, knowing full well that one was coming.

“But,” he said, “It’s unfair to her.”

“What?”

“It’s unfair for you to take this out on Zelda the way you are.”

“I thought you were on my side!”

“I am!” he yelped quickly. “I am. By the gods, I love you more than anyone else in the world, but Shayla; remember why we’re doing this. It’s not supposed to be about your personal grudge against your mother, it’s supposed to be about the way the Hylians have treated us. Don’t lose sight of that.”

Her eyes went wide. “You love me?” she asked.

Leonid blinked. “Of course I do,” he answered, as though it were the most obvious fact in the world.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Didn’t I?” He frowned. “I thought I did. Maybe that was just a conversation I practiced in my head. I’ve always known that I loved you, Shayla. Since the night we –” but he couldn’t finish the sentence. Shayla leaned forward suddenly, kissing him passionately. After recovering from his surprise, Leonid wrapped his arms around her, kissing back as he pulled her into a tight embrace. The world dissolved around them and the moon, out of courtesy, hid behind a cloud.



Following her disastrous meeting with Leafa, all Impa wanted to do, so desperately, was to summon a burst of Farore’s Wind to take her to Shayla and Zelda. But Leafa begged her repeatedly not to resort to Hylian magic. She assured Impa again and again that these problems could be worked out with words. Since Impa herself was at a loss for them, she finally acquiesced, instead, using her gust of Farore’s Wind to bring herself back to the Sheikah compound.

She was very grateful when she found it more or less deserted. She supposed Yonah was sitting in her large tent, managing some affair or other, but Impa decided not to go in. Instead, she sat down underneath a Sheikah standard, holding her head in her hands. What was she going to do?

Over and over again, Impa asked herself the same question, but she could not conjure up an answer. The situation had become so twisted and complicated that there wasn’t a clear solution. Gradually, she let her hands drop to her knees. The dawn would be breaking soon. Impa looked to the sky. She wondered, with a grim sadness, if Glas was out there somewhere, looking up at the same sky. Unconsciously, she felt her fingers drift to the little string he had tied around her finger seventeen years ago.

“I don’t know what to do, Glas,” she whispered.

It was almost as though she could hear him answering. “What do you mean?” his phantom voice asked, echoing in the wind.

“Princess Zelda’s been kidnapped,” she explained, knowing full well that she was talking to herself. “By our own daughter.”

“Why would she do a thing like that?”

Impa shrugged. “She’s learned to hate all Hylians. She’s siding with the Humans in a revolution.”

“Now, why would she do that?”

“I don’t know. Why do we do anything?”

“What have you always acted on?”

“My duty,” Impa replied. “What I felt was the most important thing for me to do.”

“Well, it sounds like you’re not all that different from our daughter.”

“What does that mean?” There was no reply. “Glas? Glas?”

It was no use. Impa understood that she was merely conjuring up an echo of the person she once knew and loved. With a sigh, she allowed her head to drop back against the standard. Gradually, it occurred to her that if she was the one conjuring the voice, she was also conjuring the words. What did they mean? Where had they come from? What part of her subconscious?

Impa knew that she was a failure as a mother. She had always known she was just no good. But before, she had always had Glas to catch her when she fell. Now, completely on her own, she finally admitted to herself that Shayla was more of a stranger than a daughter.

“No failure is so terrible that it can’t be repaired,” Glas’ voice whispered in her ear.

“What about death?” she asked.

“Shayla’s alive.”

“And a kidnapper. No. I killed her soul.”

“Stop giving yourself so much credit. There were circumstances beyond our control. All three of us.”

“Four,” she corrected him. “Zelda’s caught up in this mess too.”

“No one is innocent.”

She closed her eyes. All her strength seemed to dissolve and she felt herself go limp. Normally, this would have scared her, but all Impa wanted right now was to be completely numb.

“Impa?”

Her eyes popped open. She looked out into the darkness of the woods surrounding the compound. Moving toward her was a dark figure. “Glas?” she whispered.

The figure ran into a shaft of moonlight. Illuminated, she recognized the swift form of Menteith, making his way to the compound. “Impa, is that you?” he asked, drawing closer.

She stood up, wiping away a stray tear from her cheek. “Yeah,” she muttered softly.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” he replied, trotting over to her. At once, he drew himself up to his full height and pounded a fist to his chest.

Absently, Impa returned the gesture. “What is it?”

“I’ve been spying on Dragmire’s fortress,” he explained, “I just got back from the Gerudo Valley.”

“What did you learn?”

“Ganondorf’s finally making plans.”

“Finally?”

“For a bad guy, you’d be surprised how stagnant and boring the man can get,” he murmured.

“So you know the plans?” she prompted him, not particularly caring for the first time in her life.

Menteith nodded. “I can’t claim to understand what he’s talking about, but I have the information.”

“What’s he doing?”

“He’s assembling an attack squad to take out someone named Shayla.”

The ground seemed to drop out from beneath Impa. “What?” she questioned neutrally. Why did everyone seem to know her daughter besides her?

“I told you it doesn’t make sense. He seems to think that the key to finding Princess Zelda is someone named Shayla. I’ve never met anyone named Shayla. Do we know anything about her?” Impa seemed to be lost in her own thoughts. “Impa? Impa? Do we know anything about her?”

Blinking, Impa shook off her sudden introspective spell. “Yeah…” she mumbled absently.

“What do we know?”

“She’s…she’s the leader of an underground movement in the Human Quarter,” Impa supplied.

“Human Quarter? How’s that supposed to help Dragmire find the Princess? It doesn’t make sense.”

“They’ve initiated their rebellion by kidnapping the Princess,” Impa admitted hesitantly.

“What?!”

“I was out numbered,” Impa told him in a low voice. “I’m going to take care of it, don’t worry.”

“If Ganondorf is looking for this Shayla person, that means he’s going to find the Princess.”

“I know,” Impa hissed. By this point, several of the Sheikahs in the compound had been drawn out of their tents by the sudden noise of Menteith’s exclamation. They began to converge on the duo, wondering what was going on.

“Menteith!” a slender Sheikah woman with long blond hair exclaimed, “You’re alive!”

“Yeah, I know,” Menteith grinned. “Hard to believe, isn’t it? I must have more lives than a cat.”

The blond Sheikah embraced Menteith. “You have to tell us everything about Dragmire.”

“Well, I know his plans,” Menteith boasted.

“What are they?” a skinny Sheikah boy asked.

“He’s trying to sic an attack squad on a person named Shayla,” Menteith repeated. “I was just telling Impa that –”

“Shayla?” Everyone turned around. Yonah stood at the entrance to her tent. Her long hair was loose and her brittle body was dressed in a nightgown. She had clearly not been expecting visitors.

“Yes, Yonah,” Menteith said, offering her the Sheikah salute.

Yonah seemed far too distracted to return the gesture. She looked intently at Impa. “Is this why you’re here?”

Impa shook her head. “No, Yonah. I had no idea Dragmire was after Shayla until Menteith told me.”

This surprised Menteith a bit. He looked up at Yonah. “You know who this Shayla person is?”

But Yonah didn’t seem to respond. “Why are you here, Impa? Where’s the Princess?”

“The young people of the Human Quarter have staged a revolution against the Hylians. They’ve taken Princess Zelda as a hostage.”

There was a collective gasp from the assembled Sheikahs. They all exchanged bewildered looks, unable to comprehend the fact that Impa had failed in her duties and allowed Zelda to be kidnapped. Yonah, above all the others, seemed immensely disappointed. “You allowed the Princess to be taken?”

“I was knocked unconscious. There was nothing I could do.”

“Do you mean to tell me that we’ve been out smarted and out manned by a group of Humans?”

“No,” Impa said suddenly.

“What do you mean then?”

“We haven’t been out smarted by a bunch of Humans.”

“Make your meaning clear, Impa.”

“The leader of the revolution is a Sheikah.”

“What?”

“The leader of the revolution is Shayla.” She paused a moment before adding, “My daughter.”



“And she really started crying?” Tully asked again.

Leafa nodded. “Yes.”

They were both sitting on the floor of the meeting room. All of the guards had been dismissed. The sun would rise soon and they would have to get to their horrid jobs, doing manual labor for the Hylians and being severely underpaid for it. Only Leafa and Tully remained, sitting by candlelight and discussing the confrontation Leafa had had with Impa in hushed whispers.

“I can’t believe it,” he declared.

“Neither could I,” she admitted.

“I suppose people are full of surprises.”

“That they are.”

A new, heavy silence fell upon them. Tully looked down, examining his calloused hands for a moment before continuing. “Kaya’s dead?”

“Yes,” Leafa said sadly.

“Poor Kaya.”

“I was always so fond of her.”

“I know you were.”

“Whenever I was down and out with the troubles caused by the Hylians, I would remind myself that Kaya existed. I knew that, as long as Kaya was around, there were good Hylians out there, as well as the bad.”

“And now?”

“My faith has been severely tampered,” she confessed. “I don’t know what to think.”

“It’s important to believe that there are still good Hylians out there,” he urged her. “We can’t classify an entire race.”

“As they’ve been so kind to do for us?” she muttered with a slight hint of amusement.

“You always told me that the second we pick up a weapon, we become one of them. I also believe that the second we allow ourselves to hate, we become one of them, Leafa.”

“I’m glad you haven’t become cynical in your old age, Tully,” she teased him gently.

“Neither have you.”

Leafa sighed. “I am thirty eight years old, Tully. When did that become old? Tell me.”

“I don’t know,” he responded absently. “Around the time we were able to actually say, ‘I remember when things were different.’”

“I never thought I’d live to see the day I regretted change so much.”

“Well…next time we’ll know better.”

“Right. Next time. Because history so often allows us to go back in time and relive our lives.”

“Not often,” he supposed, “but every one in awhile.”

“There’s one thing I’ve always regretted not telling you, Tully,” she sighed after a moment.

“Oh yeah?” He grinned. “What’s that?”

“I’m not telling you now.”

“Go ahead. Go back in time.”

In spite of herself, she laughed a bit. “All right. I suppose I’ve got nothing else to lose. What I’ve always wanted to tell you is that I –”

There was a loud crack. Instantly, the door broke in half around the middle, the top half and the bottom half falling into the room. Leafa stifled a scream. Both she and Tully leapt to their feet, but they realized that there was absolutely nowhere for them to go. Into the room swarmed about half a dozen red headed women, all of them dressed in pale, pastel silk clothing. Each carried two long blades, both drawn and pointed directly at the Humans in the center of the room. Once the women had completely surrounded Leafa and Tully, the seventh figure, the imposing form of the Gerudo prince, walked into the room.

“Ganondorf Dragmire,” Leafa said quietly.

“Basileaus Leafa,” he responded, dipping his head. “I’m pleased to see you still remember me.”

“You would be difficult to forget.” She planted her hands on her hips. “What’s the meaning of this?”

“I won’t mince words with you,” he said. “I respect you far too much for that. After all, you once did a great favor for me in not warning the King of the attack I was planning.”

This was a sharp blow to Leafa on many accounts. She remembered that day when Ganondorf warned her of what was to come and she had been sorely tempted to leave North Castle without breathing a word of it to anyone. In the end, she had made an attempt to tell the King, but that attempt had failed, leading to the loss of many lives. “What do you want?” she questioned him darkly.

“I know you’re harboring the royal nursemaid’s brat,” he said evenly.

Panic filled Leafa. How did he know about the kidnapping of Princess Zelda already? “I have no control over that,” she said.

“What?”

“I cannot be held responsible for the actions of the youth militia of the Human Quarter,” she told him. “They no longer answer to me as Basileaus.”

Ganondorf glanced at Tully. “What does she mean?”

“We are not responsible for the fate of Princess Zelda,” he replied.

Dragmire was clearly caught off guard by this. “Princess Zelda?” he repeated. “I’m talking about Shayla.”

Leafa blinked. “Shayla? What does she have to do with Impa?”

“Don’t play dumb with me. You know very well Shayla is Impa’s child. Now tell me, what were you talking about with Princess Zelda? What do you mean you’re not responsible for her fate? And what youth militia?”

“Impa is Shayla’s mother?” Leafa spat incredulously. “Why didn’t she tell me?”

“I want to know about Princess Zelda!” Ganondorf roared. “She’s here, isn’t she?” he stalked in a circle around the room, like a dog smelling out his prey. “You will answer me.”

“She isn’t here,” Tully said. “We don’t know where she is and we don’t know what you’re talking about regarding Shayla.”

Ganondorf sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I was really hoping I wouldn’t have to kill anyone today,” he muttered. “Well…that’s a lie. I do enjoy killing people. Sarjenka, let’s inspire the Basileaus to talk.”

“With pleasure,” Sarjenka answered with a nod. She walked forward from her place by the wall, drawing her sword back as she faced Leafa.

“No!” Tully shouted. At once, he threw himself in front of Leafa, just as Sarjenka swung her sword. It made a clean cut. Tully dropped to the floor as blood began to puddle beneath him.

“Tully!” Leafa screamed, falling to her knees beside him.

“Predictable,” Ganondorf muttered. “Thank you, Sarjenka.”

“Of course,” Sarjenka said, backing up to the wall again.

Leafa looked up at Ganondorf with fire in her eyes. “How could you?” she asked him angrily.

“I think you should worry less about his fate and more about your own,” Ganondorf said, reaching over and grabbed Leafa around the arm. He hefted her off the floor, pulling her up close so that he could feel her breath on his cheek. “And the fate of your people,” he added.

She attempted to pull away from him, but he held her fast, tightening his grip. “What do you want?”

“Shayla and Zelda. What’s the connection?”

She seemed to be choosing her words very carefully. “Shayla’s taken Zelda from Impa. She’s still under the protection of the Sheikah. I don’t have custody of either of them, I swear.”

“Shayla grew up in your household, yes?”

Leafa averted her eyes. “Yes.”

“And you really had no idea that she was Impa’s brat?”

“None. I’ve been had, just the same as you.”

“Had?”

“The Hylian people have savagely abused the Humans. We were planning an insurrection against them,” Leafa said, getting faster and faster as she spoke. “I didn’t realize Shayla was planted among us as a spy.”

It was unclear whether Ganondorf believed all of this. “She’s familiar with all your Human haunts, is she not?”

“Yes.”

“Then I want you to think really hard, Basileaus. Where should she take Princess Zelda?”



Zelda watched as the flap to the tent opened. In came the angry Sheikah girl from before. Kaylee walked over to her. “Is everything all right?” she asked.

The Sheikah nodded. “Yes. Sorry about that. Why don’t you go home? You look tired.”

Kaylee nodded. “I can send some others to come relieve you and Leonid if you like.”

“Thank you, Kaylee.”

With a nod, Kaylee walked out of the tent, leaving the two younger women alone. “Are you going to strike me some more?” Zelda asked impertinently.

“Shut up,” was the only response she got.

“I don’t like the quiet,” Zelda said. “I’m sick to death of silence.”

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“But you were so talkative earlier.”

“Leave me alone.”

“You’re the one who kidnapped me.”

“That was my mistake.”

The Princess sighed softly, leaning her head back against the post she was tied to. “I rather enjoyed arguing with you, actually. People are always so phony when they’re talking to me. Well, most people. But you’re not. You may not say particularly kind things to me, but at least what you say is completely honest. I like that about you. It’s unique.”

“Are you trying to seduce me? Trying to win me over? It’s not going to work, Princess.”

“No, I’m not trying to have any affect on you. I’m just talking. As I said before, I hate the silence.”

“We all suffer one pain or another.”

“Truer words were never spoken.”

An extraordinary flash of green luminosity flooded the space. In between the two girls, a humanoid form appeared, gradually regaining color as the green light faded. When the spell was done, Impa was standing in the middle of the tent, facing Zelda. She blinked in surprise. “Zelda.” With that, she knelt down by the post and began trying to untie the Princess. Zelda, for her part, said nothing, keeping her eyes fixed over Impa’s shoulder.

“Hello, Impa,” the other woman said with an icy tone.

Impa stood up and whirled around, leaving Zelda where she was. She faced her daughter for the first time in six years and was immediately struck by her extraordinary appearance. Shayla was beautiful, a perfect likeness of Glas, though a bit more slender, perhaps, with harder lines on her face. She stood tall, almost as tall as Impa, one hand resting on the hilt of her blade, the other on her hip.

“Shayla,” was all Impa could manage to say.

Zelda blinked, the name striking a familiar note with her. “Shayla?”

“Glad to see you remember me,” Shayla continued. “I, of course, remember you, mother.”

“You have a daughter?” Zelda marveled with wide, surprised eyes.

“Shayla, what have you done?” Impa asked, her voice dry and choked as she took in the entire scene.

“It seems that I’ve finally managed to get your attention after sixteen years,” Shayla replied evenly.

“All right, you have my attention.”

She shook her head. “No, old woman. This isn’t about you. This is a matter of justice. You’re just a footnote.”

“You must listen to me,” Impa said carefully. “Ganondorf Dragmire knows about you. He’s on his way here and if he finds –”

“You’re worried about him finding your precious Zelda? That’s touching. It’s good to know that your devotion is constant.”

“Sweet Nayru…” Zelda whispered.

“Listen to me, Shayla. If Ganondorf Dragmire –”

“I heard you the first time. That’s why you came. I understand. To keep Zelda from falling into his clutches. Again.”

“Will you listen to me? I came here because I know that Ganondorf will hurt you, Shayla.”

“It’s too late for you to start getting maternal on me,” Shayla snapped.

“He will kill you, Shayla.” She threw a sideways glance at Zelda. “Both of you. We have to leave here, now. Before he arrives.”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Shayla answered, wagging her finger at Impa. “You may come and go as you wish, but she stays.” Impa took a step forward, but quick as lightening, Shayla had her sword drawn. “No.”

“Put that down.”

“No.”

“You can’t be serious! This is Ganondorf Dragmire! Do you have any idea what he’ll do to you?”

“I suppose I’ll find out,” Shayla said. “Draw your weapon.”

“What?”

“Draw your weapon.”

“Are you serious?”

“Dead serious, mother.”

“I won’t fight against you.”

Shayla took a swing at Impa with her sword. Impa ducked out of the way, the blade just barely grazing her right arm. She looked down as a thin line of red blood appeared on her skin, then looked up at Shayla in shock. “Wrong. You’ve been fighting against me my entire life.” She took another wide swipe, which Impa managed to dodge completely. “This is no different.”

“Stop this at once.”

“Draw!!!”

From her place by the pole, Zelda closed her eyes. Suddenly, Impa sword jumped telekinetically out of the sheath, directly into Impa’s hand. Impa looked down in surprise. She started to turn to face Zelda questioningly, but Shayla took another thrust. Impa managed to parry it. Shayla had surprising strength and Impa was shocked by the way her blade reverberated, but there wasn’t time to dwell. Another thrust came flying at her left ear. Impa shifted her head out of the way and swung her sword upwards, knocking Shayla’s blade away.

“Stop this foolishness!” Impa implored her daughter.

“Foolishness?” Shayla scoffed, taking another series of quick jabs, all of which Impa was able to deflect. “This is the Sheikah Way.”

“This is not the Sheikah Way!” Impa cried, withdrawing across the tent. “Don’t you know that?”

“No,” Shayla muttered dryly, thrusting forward, “I never had anyone to teach it to me.”

“Shayla, please listen to me –”

“Why should I?” she asked coldly. “You never listened to me. Or father for that matter. We were just allowed to exist when it was convenient for –”

Impa did the unthinkable then. She took a fast swipe at Shayla’s left side. Shayla just barely managed to defend herself from the blow. “Don’t you dare,” Impa whispered, catching the look of surprise on her daughter’s face, “put my feelings for your father into question. Carry your own grievances, but don’t presume to know his.”

“So you did love someone after all,” Shayla grunted as she grit her teeth and jabbed at Impa’s stomach.

The older woman parried the thrust. “I have loved and lost more than you can possibly understand.”

“Oh, I understand. I lost just as much as you. Probably more. I never had a Zelda to lose.”

“I loved your father more than anything in this world,” Impa whispered. “And yes, I screwed up as a mother, but I love you now.”

“Liar!” Shayla screamed, racing forward with her sword swinging wildly from side to side. In her rage, her blows grew sloppy and Impa easily deflected each of them. “Liar and a coward!” She bashed her sword into Impa’s and Impa managed to catch her wrist. With a quick twist, she forced her daughter to drop the blade. “I hate you!” Shayla roared, struggling to break free. Impa held her tight. “I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!”

Throwing her sword to the ground, Impa pulled Shayla into a tight embrace. At first, the girl struggled against her, but gradually, tears replaced her wriggling and her resolve dissolved. She fell against Impa’s shoulder, bawling like a child, her shoulders heaving up and down. Tenderly, Impa stroked Shayla’s hair, resting her chin on the top of her head. “I love you, Shayla,” she whispered softly.

“Why didn’t you rescue me?” Shayla sobbed.

“I made a mistake,” Impa told her. “Nothing I can say or do will ever make up for what happened. I know that now.” She pulled back slightly, holding Shayla at arm’s length and looking her in the eyes. “But you have to let me rescue you now. Ganondorf Dragmire is coming for you. Because he knows that you are my child. He knows how much he can hurt me if anything should happen to you. Please, Shayla. I beg you. Let me rescue you now.”

Weakly, Shayla nodded, unable to find any more words. At once, Impa picked up her sword and cut Zelda loose. The Princess stood up, walking over to the two Sheikah women. Impa put a hand on Zelda’s shoulder. She turned to look at Shayla. Gently, she caressed Shayla’s cheek with her palm. As she made contact, the warm green light of Farore’s Wind burst forth from the Sheikah eye on Impa’s chest. It spread out, consuming both Zelda and Shayla. In the next instant, they were all gone.



It was a gloriously beautiful day, the kind that artists dreamed about. The sky was filled with lazy white clouds, swollen and fluffy. They rolled by at a leisurely pace, the wind neither too strong nor too stilled. Outside of the village, nature was still surpassingly beautiful. The willow trees still had the ivy climbing up their trunks. The patches of cattails still waved in the breeze.

Across the emerald green grass strode the mother and daughter. Impa was in the middle of speaking when they came near the grassy knoll where it happened. “And he took the twine out of his pack,” she said, “and tied it around my finger.” She held up her hand for Shayla to see. “I told him, ‘That’s a very specific finger.’ He said that he knew. That was when he asked me to marry him.”

Shayla smiled. “That’s a wonderful story.”

“I’m surprised he never told it to you.”

She shrugged. “Never.”

Impa looked up ahead as they continued their walk. “This is where the tent was,” she said, pointing up ahead. They made their way to the spot and stood there for a moment in silence. “This is how I like to think about your father,” Impa said softly. “In this moment.”

Closing her eyes, Shayla took a deep breath, feeling the various forces of nature fill her. When she opened her eyes, they were watery. “I miss him so much,” she told her mother quietly.

“I miss him too,” Impa said, looking up at the sky.

“What do you think happened to him?”

“I don’t know.”

She frowned. “Do you think he’s dead?”

“Sometimes,” Impa admitted.

“Sometimes?”

“Late at night, when I can’t sleep, I go walking and talk to him. And I realize that if he were really dead, I’d know.” She touched her temple. “In here.” And she touched her heart, “And here.”

“I think I understand that,” Shayla said.

Impa looked at her and smiled wryly. “I thought you might.”

“Will we ever see him again?”

“We will.”

“You sound so sure of that.”

“If it takes me a thousand lifetimes, I will make things right again, Shayla.”

“You don’t have to do it by yourself.”

“I won’t,” Impa replied.

They stood there for awhile. Impa found herself examining her daughter again. As she did, memories she had pushed aside for years came back to her. She had always thought that when the floodgates opened, she would find herself in horror or complete depression, but standing there now, she remembered pleasant things that made her smile. She remembered many happy hours with Glas and the young Shayla, times when they would both look at her with bright smiles, no cares in the world. Impa wasn’t sad at all. If anything, she found herself more determined than ever to make things right again, to regain that innocence.

Shayla turned to face the Kakariko village. “I should…”

“Oh.” Impa frowned, following her gaze. “Are you sure? I mean, you would be welcomed at the Sheikah stronghold.”

“I know, but…I have to back.”

“Unfinished business?”

“I’ve got to tell a boy that I love him.”

Impa blinked in surprise. “You have to go then.”

“I do.”

“What’s his name?” Impa asked, brushing some hair off of Shayla’s shoulder.

“Leonid.”

“Well,” Impa said smiling, “this isn’t goodbye.”

“No?”

“I’ll be back. I’m not losing you a second time. I’ll see you soon.”

“Soon?”
“I promise.” Impa leaned forward, kissing Shayla on the top of her head. “Now go. Don’t say goodbye.”

The girl smiled. She took Impa’s hands and kissed them. Without a word, she whirled around and ran down the hill, heading back to the village. Impa turned around. She didn’t want to watch her go. Looking down the opposite side of the hill, she noticed a distant figure, sitting on a tuft of grass near a mound of dirt covered with the carcasses of old, dried out flowers. To this collection, she added a fresh bouquet of lilies then sat back on her heels.

Silently, Impa made her way to the scene. “Leafa?” she called quietly.

Leafa looked up. “Impa.”

By this point, Impa had arrived. She knelt down on the opposite side of the mound, looking at Leafa. “What are you doing out here?”

“This is the only place I can come to think,” Leafa answered. She gestured up the hill to the vanishing form of Shayla. “You brought her back.”

“She has some important business to return to.”

“I’m glad she’s returning.”

“Listen, Leafa…”

“Please don’t.”

“I have to.” Impa sighed, looking up at the sky. “I need to apologize…and thank you.”

“If you must.”

“I want to apologize for,” she broke off to laugh for a moment, “so, so many things.”

“Impa…”

“I apologize for leaving Shayla in your care with such rage. I apologize for never coming to visit you. I apologize for failing to tell you what happened to Kaya. I even apologize for bringing my scouting team here in the first place to build North Castle. We destroyed your way of life.”

“Are you finished?”

“No. Now I have to thank you.” Impa looked over at Leafa. “Thank you for raising my daughter.”

“Now are you finished?”

“Yes.”

Leafa nodded, sitting back slightly. “We can’t dwell on the past, Impa. We have only to look forward to the future.”

“The future will be better,” Impa promised. “A hero will rise to rid the land of Ganondorf Dragmire. Zelda will be put back into power. She will make things right by you and your people.”

“Maybe.” Leafa frowned. “We once thought you were gods, Impa.” She gestured to the mound. “But now I realize that you’re people. Just like us. We’re not all that different at all.”

“No.”

“So. Where are you headed?”

She shrugged. “Yonah and Rauru are working in tandem, now. They’ve asked me to go do some work for them in the Shadow Temple.”

“Will you be gone long?”

“No. As soon as I finish there, I’m coming back to be near my daughter.”

“Good.”

“So tell me about this Leonid. Is he good enough for her?”

Leafa laughed. “He’s Tully’s son,” she replied. “Sojef’s grandson,” she added, gesturing to the mound in between them.

Impa looked down at the grave. “This is…?”

“Sojef.”

“Sojef. I haven’t thought about him in so long. When did he –”

“Seventeen years ago,” Leafa supplied. “Right after our first contact. He just couldn’t live with the shame.”

“He made a fateful mistake.”

“Yes.”

“Do you regret it?”

“No time for regrets. I have a life to live. But if I had to answer…No…I don’t regret it. It gave me Shayla. And brought her back to you. That’s something else our people can share.”