Forest of Autumn Twilight, Prologue
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TEASER: This story takes place many years before Link’s call and awakening to the Great Deku Tree, requesting him to save the land of Hyrule. Everything seems perfectly normal in Hyrule, but that soon changes when the king decides to invade the children of the Kokiri Forest and disturb their presence among the races of Hyrule. But before this even happens, an unsettling council has Fado (the dead Sage from The Wind Waker) and Saria cautious of the worst that could come from the act that the council has decided to take upon. Meanwhile, in the beginning, rightful commander and a warlord under the king, Coran and his command receive an alarming mission that shocks them all: invading the Gerudo Valley and Fortress that hangs within west of the castle, off of the army’s usual range. More is soon unraveled as the Kokiri Forest is turned dramatically over a short amount of time and soon the Forest of Autumn Twilight awakens...

Forest of Autumn Twilight
By: Landon

Prologue:
The Hylians named the forest Gwn Nerkdessha—the Forest of Sorrow. None of the other races that inhabited the peaceful and prosperous land of Hyrule had walked near or entered by their own free will. Those who entered did it because they were in desperation, in need, or did it because their commanding officer had told them to.
They had been hearing the cries and yells of joyful children for a few moments as their advance brought them nearer and nearer to the demented forest, though they actually never entered, they moved along briskly, but in a fashionable way. The cries, which weren’t very distinguishable, still echoed through the wood and out into the field beyond. The cries were a lament, a place for fun and good times to be had, a haven of peace and bliss.
On first hearing the cries of joy and carefree, the Knights clutched the reins of their steed, withdrawing their swords and brandishing them as if a monster or who knows what might come out after them. They stared at the area all around them, uneasy about the voices, crying “Come out!” and “Who goes there?”
But no answer came. No one stepped out in the daylight. The Knights looked uneasily at their commander, who was standing up in his stirrups, inspecting the grassy fields that lay before them on their right and left side.
“It is nothing,” he said at last. “It is simply the wind, carrying voices of children from the market. Proceed.”
He urged his mount forward along the sandy path, which ran, galloping along the straightforward path that lay long and winding ahead of them. The men that were under his command followed in a single file orderly fashion, their performance was reflected afterwards to the king.
“I have heard about that forest, my lord,” said one Knight gruffly, “and it is said that danger awaits within, even though it is occupied by the Kokiri. My intuition tells me that we should stay away from it. We would do well to heed it.”
“Nonsense!” Leader Coran Endel swung around in his saddle to glare at his scout and secondhand, who walked behind him. “Superstitious rubbish! But then you cals are noted for clinging to old, outmoded ways and ideas. It is time you entered the modern times of glory. The beasts and gods are gone and good riddance, I say. We Hylians have claimed power in this land.”
Coran kicked his mount in the sides and urged it to go on. He galloped on down the path for about a half a mile when it occurred to him that there were no hooves that he could hear, pounding the earth beneath them. He glanced over his shoulder to see that he was proceeding alone. None of his men had followed him.
Furious and agitated, Coran turned and galloped back to his command. He found almost half of his patrol group dismounted, the other half sat in their saddles inspecting their mounts that appeared to be shivering from the voices of the children.
“These stupid beasts have smarter brains than their masters,” Coran said angrily under his breath. Few horses will allow a cal to sit upon their backs and ride for them and fewer probably couldn’t even hold one up, considering how tall and built the cals were.
Coran sat upon his horse, facing his men. He was a tall, thin man, the type whose bones seemed to be full of calcium and vitamins, for he was definitely stronger then he originally looked. His eyes were dark and dank, full of coldness, without intelligence. He was well noted for his cruelty and—many would say his mindless—discipline.
“You will mount your horses and follow after me,” said Leader Coran coldly, “or I will report each and every one of you to the king. I will accuse all of you of cowardice and not following my lead. As you very well know, the penalty for even one of those counts is dishonorable discharge, and you know what that means.”
“Can and is he really allowed to do that?” whispered a newly made Knight, who was on his first assignment.
“He can,” returned the veterans grimly, “and believe us, he will.”
The Knights remounted and urged their steeds’ forward, kicking slightly at their sides. Coran glared at his squadron of fools and turned his mount as well, galloping down the path. He looked over his shoulder and was for once pleased to see that his command was following him briskly from behind.
This is too easy, just one simple command and they’re shaking in their armor, Coran thought smugly. But one thing bothers me, why did the king give us this assignment? He looked around uneasily as they made their way up and around a bend, hooves pounding the ground; earth flying up from the greenest grass in all of Hyrule. Why did the king want us to go to the Gerudo Valley? Did he want us dead? Coran shook his head at this and told himself, “No, that can’t be it...” Everybody knows what the Gerudos do if they catch an outsider entering their fortress. Why?
Coran though about this as they were nearing the fence that blocked the entrance to the valley. Well, whatever the case, he wasn’t going to disobey the king’s orders. As they slowly approached the fence, the men looked about uneasy and cautiously looking up to the rusty colored cliffs on each side of them. Even Coran looked up at them uneasily. Somehow, he was expecting a Gerudo archer to raise their knotted, wooden bow over the edge on top of the cliff, prepare their equally wooden arrow, and finally pierce one of the knights with the sharp, arrowhead, or even him, for that matter.
After a few heartbeats, they waited, but nothing came. Coran himself thought this action was very odd. Since when do the Gerudos leave no scout up on top of the cliffs, gazing out at the field and alerting the others? This was very strange. Could it be that they were expecting them? Could they have seen them and just pulled back into the heart of the valley, waiting for them? All of these questions drifted in Coran’s mind.
Still, the Knights and himself could indeed be killed, even though they were wearing armor. Their heads were visible, as open as the sun up in the sky during midday. The king took the idea of not wearing helmets, because of the weight and it would wear and hold them down, that would be added on with the rest of their armor.
Clutching his pride, Coran placed his right hand at the hilt of his sword and held onto it, but didn’t draw it. Coran didn’t show it, but he himself was afraid. He wasn’t expecting a mission like this. Most of the time when it involved a really dangerous act, he would go do one part, the part that didn’t involve getting hurt or killing himself. He was truly a selfish commander.
Letting go of the hilt of his sword, Coran gripped the reins of his steed, his boots digging deep into the horse’s skin, causing bloody gauges on the sides. Looking briefly at the sight before him, he determined it was safe and shouted, trying to encourage his squadron, “Knights! Let us move on and make our way into this—this heap of rusted rock!” he roared.
Many of the men weren’t really encouraged by this, the horses in fact, weren’t either. Coran kicked his steed in the sides and off his horse galloped, jumping a few feet over the old and knotted wooden fence, picketed in front of the entrance, to warn outsiders. The men followed suite of their commander, kicking the sides of their steed, jumping over the fence, and off, following close behind Coran, into the hearth of the valley.

Coran continued forward, gritting his teeth, eyes watering from the sudden blast of wind that filled the valley. Truly, this was suicide. Going into the middle of the Gerudos’ territory was a fine example of a slaughter. But, Coran assumed that the king wanted the Knights to flush out these filthy, thieving scum and have them thrown in the dungeons. But what if the king wanted him and his command dead? But, that couldn’t be the case; Coran was one of his best generals, almost top of the line.
Leaving the matter behind, Coran saw ahead of him the rickety old and knotted wooden bridge. On his approach to the bridge, his horse automatically reared and almost bucked him off the back. “Hie!” he yelled in the horse’s ear, trying to calm the stupid beast down. This attempt, however, didn’t work. Instead, the horse kept whinnying and trying to buck its master off. “Hie!” Coran yelled angrily. As with the time before, it didn’t listen. This time, Coran took action. He dug his boots harder into the skin, making the gauges open up fresh and start bleeding freely. This seemed to calm the horse down.
Many of the Knights clamored around Coran to see if he was all right.
"Are you all right, sir?" one Knight asked.
“Of course I am!” he snapped back, glaring at them all. “The damn beast is afraid of the cliff dropping off!”
He dismounted and walked up to the edge of the cliff, below he could see and hear a roaring river of crystal clear, blue water, ravaging the sides of the rusty cliffs. Many Knights wondered what he was doing, but didn’t dare ask or move. Slowly, Coran heaved his heavy head up and looked at the pathetic bridge that lay before him and his men. Truly, these desert scum were all rags and full of filth, having to steal, just to live off of themselves.
Coran swung around on his heal and faced his men, glaring at them all. His command stood stiff, from head to boot, awaiting his orders. Though not crazy about the idea of crossing the old bridge, the men were trying to act all the way. This, however, didn’t phase Coran; he walked among his legion, pacing back and forth among those in front of the others. After a fourth time back and forth, he stopped among the men and looked at them all, still glaring smugly.
“Listen up, men!” he yelled over the roar of the thrashing river below. “We will cross this rickety old bridge and make camp on the other side!” Many were especially uneasy about his. Camping right outside of the territory of the Gerudos? “It is twilight, as you can see,” he continued, holding a stiff hand, his index finger pointed to the west, “I want my tent set up near that huge boulder over there,” he said briskly, moving his hand to a boulder twice his size across the bridge. “You buffoons may set up your tent anywhere in that area, not across the bridge over here...Now come! Let us set up before this valley gets as dark as my black hair itself!”
After making his demands, the men grumbled, half of them slumped in their mounts, the other half frowning and shaking their heads, unsure about the situation. Seeing this, Coran grew furious, his veins stood out on his neck and face. “That is an order!” he roared.
The half on foot sighed and clamored back onto their mounts, while the remaining half urged their steeds forward, coming up beside Coran, who had already remounted his horse. “Everyone will follow after me, in single file,” he said curtly. “This bridge is weak and old, we don’t want any accidents, now do we?” he asked his command shortly. None of his men answered or stepped forward. “No? Well, let us move on!”
It would be a shame to lose some men or a horse for that matter, he thought as he moved ever closer to the edge of the bridge; his steed eyed it uneasily, ears twitching. The horse whinnied and trudged backwards a little, staying clear of the bridge. “Hie!” Coran cried. His horse moved forward, shaking with every step. The first hoof landed on an old board that was tied tightly through holes that strung it to the bridge altogether, as a pang echoed back five times louder from the deep canyon that lie below.
The next hoof of Coran’s steed landed, making an equally loud pang that sounded like the first. Coran urged his mount forward a few steps, cautiously awaiting the boards to snap under the weight that was carried on this beast. Fortunately for him, it didn’t, but he urged the horse on, glancing uneasily, sweat rolling down over his dark brows; rolling down his very neck and down into his breastplate.
After making it about halfway across, Coran heard the sound of more hooves on the bridge, making the same pang that he had heard as he tried to cross. Coran glanced over his shoulder to see others following his lead, coming slowly. He gulped and swung slowly around in his saddle, making a gesture at them to wait for him to cross. Many didn’t know what he had meant, but they stood still. “Do not cross the bridge any further!” he whispered scornfully, glancing back at his steed.
The Knights thought they understood what he meant and stayed still, not making the slightest movement. Coran sighed heavily and turned back to his mount, as it trudged slowly on. Finally, after a few moments, he made it across, unscathed by the rickety old bridge. His mount trotted slowly forward, but was soon commanded to stop. Coran then told his command to come across, but very slowly.
After the first made it across, Coran sighed heavily once again and was happy that another made it across the bridge, now all that was left was the rest of his command. Next, came another Knight and his mount, sighing with relief once they’d made it. The other Knights followed suite, and soon, the whole command was across, left unscathed. Now all that was left was to setup camp.
Many Knights stood warily, thinking that he was joking. They stood staring in disbelief, really and truly thinking that he was joking. It turned out that he wasn’t. “Well?” he demanded impatiently. None of his command said a word; all they could hear was the squawking of the crows that hovered in mid-flight; the crashing and roaring of the river below, snaking its way into the lake that lay in the distance.
One Knight, however, was brave enough to ask their commander. “W—What is it that you w—want, sir?” he managed to say. Coran turned and walked up to the man who spoke, his hot breath in the Knight’s face. His glare deepened even further, the man was deliberately shaking in his armor. “What do you mean ‘want’? I told you to set up my goddamn tent! What is with you cals? You call yourselves Knights?” he said, walking away from the man and stretching his arms out wide. “You barely even follow your orders for the goddesses’ sake!” he continued, humiliating them all. “All you cals do is relive the old times! Wake up! This is the dawn of a new era, a new age!” he eyed them all, as his voice boomed back ten times louder than originally.
“Now, when I say set up my tent...” he started calmly, “I mean put up my tent!” he yelled, causing several to jump at the raised volume of his voice. “And I mean now!” he finished, pointing to the boulder that he had stated earlier to where he wanted his tent set up.
Heeding his words, a few men began to take the crisp and light fabric from Coran’s saddlebag. The others began taking their own material from their own saddlebags, inspecting a good place to set up their domain for the night. The men that were setting up Coran’s laid the piece of material out flat and began taking out short, fresh wooden stakes and began to hit them with mallets.
All the while, Coran inspected the way his tent was being put up, but it occurred to him that no progress was being made to it. He glanced down at the nearest Knight and snapped, “What’s taking so long? The thing should have been up by now!” The Knight looked up at his commander and replied shortly, “The ground is too hard, lord. Nothing can penetrate this ground, even the stakes won’t go through.”
Coran thought for a heartbeat and then stooped down beside the Knight and held out his hand to the man. “Here,” he said irritably, “Give me the mallet.” The man obeyed the command and handed the mallet to Coran, who inspected it from the wooden shaft to end. He then raised it over his shoulder and swung down hard, causing a loud ring that echoed for minutes; all of the Knights cupped their hands over their ears and watched as the Knight next to Coran moved from the flash of sparks. Coran, however, didn’t seem to care; the sparks hit him in the face, singeing the hair on his face.
Coran looked at the ground in disdain and impatience. What the Knight had said was true, the ground was too hard for them to hammer into. He hated to admit that one of his men was right and this showed it. Fuming, Coran stood up and surveyed the rusty patch of ground that they were standing on. If one section of the earth was hard and rocky, then what good was it to try any of the other areas?
Many of the men watched as their commander walked up to the edge of the cliff and looked down into the roaring river below. He glanced up at the sky. It was already turning dusk. Great, he thought, Just great. It’s already dusk and soon this rusty dump of a canyon will be darker than the fields. Debating about what to do, Coran turned briskly on his heel and walked up to his secondhand, glaring at him right in the eye.
“Tell me, Tarus, what do you think we should do?” Coran asked icily.
The Knight looked abashed and stared at his commander, not believing what he had just said.
But before Tarus could answer, a battle horn blared from inside the fortress....

Forest of Autumn Twilight, Chapter I


Forest of Autumn Twilight
By: Landon

Chapter: Fight and Premonitions at Night
Fado shook his head in disdain as the remaining Kokiri filed out of the great hollowed oak tree, that served as their council and meeting quarters. He, being the only one left, was probably one out of the few that disliked the conniving decision that the high council had made. Just thinking about it made him angry, and it also made his head hurt. Truly this was one of the worst council meetings of all time.
Frowning and sighing, Fado brushed his untidy golden hair out of his bluish-green eyes, and stood up, looking at the empty seats. He stood alone in the dark room, lit only by a wax candle. Fado picked up his oily quill and parchment, not blowing out the candle, which continued to crackle; fading slightly, but then revving up again, attempting not to be put out.
Fado made his way to the pale stained sheet that served as the council’s doorway, but a voice stopped him. He didn’t turn, nor continue walking, but he stood rooted to the spot.
“What’s wrong Fado? You haven’t responded to anybody in the recent days, let alone speak in the council tonight...” a girl’s voice echoed in the enclosed room, coming from the shadows on the far ends of the room.
Fado merely turned his body slightly, his eyes half-open, as if he was sleepy, but this look wasn’t tiring, more of annoyance. His blue-green eyes stared at the darkness without flinching, looking at a young green-haired girl. The two continued to look at each other, when Fado broke the seemingly endless silence.
“Give me a break Saria, you’re the only one I would die to talk to, but not now...I have too many things on my mind...” he said, still with his eyes half open.
Fado then turned, starting to walk out the stained sheet, but a soft and young smooth hand grasped his forearm firmly. He turned his head and looked into Saria’s bright, green eyes. He could finally see her figure. She was wearing a green tunic and a green skirt that was tightened by a leather, brown belt, along with brown leather boots and a green headband.
“Fado, I need to know...What’s wrong with you? For the past few days you’ve done nothing but sit in your house, concentrating hard on something that you don’t want others to know. Each time I’ve come to see what has been wrong with you...Well, all you do is just yell at me...” Saria said pleadingly.
Fado continued to look into her bright, concerned eyes, wondering and wanting to know if he was okay. After a fraction of a heartbeat he sighed heavily and loosened his grip on his quill and parchment, but decided to confess.
“It’s the council that worries me,” he said, not looking at her, rather nothing in particular. “You see...The decision made tonight has...Well, frightened me in a way and has made me mad...A mix of two emotions that aren’t good once combined together,” Saria acknowledged this and urged him to continue, not letting go of his arm. She wanted his full answer. “And another thing that concerns me in particular is the council committee. It seems like they’re trying to silence us like mass murder...”
Saria nodded in agreement and then let his arm go. “To tell the truth...I’m actually worried about the decision too...Its too beneath them to have thought up a reason as conniving as that...” she said softly, her voice trailing off. “What’s going to happen, Fado?”
Fado glanced outside the immense tree through a handful of the sheet that he had held up. Clouds were rolling in and these seemed much more filled with precipitation than the last fall of rain that the forest had, in fact, it was some time ago. The moon hid its shining silver face beneath the gray and dreary clouds that almost looked like an immense blanket that it could cuddle up in. “To be honest, Saria, I wish I knew...” Fado said lowly, close to a whisper, still eyeing the once clear and starry sky.
He looked at her, trying to smile warmly, assuring her that everything was going to be okay, but he could only muster up a small one. Saria looked at him, still somehow concerned. But it wasn’t about the council or forest’s sake; it was Fado’s. Silence hung all around the two of them, but was finally broken by Fado, “Well, Saria...I need to get home,”
“Huh? Oh...Oh right. I need to get home too,” she said, jumping at the break of silence.
“Goodnight Saria.”
“Goodnight Fado!”
Saria stood alone, watching as Fado walked towards his small, oak house, located right next to hers’ on the left. She walked slowly out of the tree and stood, stretching. It had been a crazy day, all the same with that night. Slight pellets of rain hit against her face and clothing as she stood, gazing at Fado’s house. Then, after a second, it didn’t occur to her that it was now pouring rain and that she was standing in it. She hurried away and into the shelter of her dry and cozy home, closing the door behind her.



Coran stood, hands interlocked on his drawn blade, looking every which way. Still, the horn continued to blare, deafening him and his command, temporary paralyzing them. Coran glanced over his shoulder, seeing that some of his command held their swords too, shaking, unable to hold the naked blade straight. Turning his shaggy and heavy head back to the fortress entrance, Coran grunted and glared angrily at nothing, as he continued to watch the landscape ahead of them.
Another thought occurred to Coran that he never thought of. The Gerudos were women; they didn’t wear armor either. So, this would be relative easy, wouldn’t it? Coran smiled with glee. Of course it would be easy...
The Knights stood on, unsure about the situation. Some backed up in fear; the horses backed off as well. Still, nothing came, only the blaring of the horn. Coran was still tense, wondering if the Gerudos were planning a surprise attack. But, alas, nothing still came. Maybe it was a bluff or something along those lines. But, if it was a bluff, why would the horn still be blaring on and on? This mystified Coran as he stood, loosening his grip on his sword and staring blankly into the darkness that loomed all around them. Yet, at that moment, a sound caused Coran to tense back up, sword at the ready. It was the sound of footsteps, but it wasn’t just one set; there were many.
Coran, this time was very cautious. “Knights! Swords at the ready!” he yelled into the pitch-black darkness behind him. Yet one figure loomed beside him. It was his secondhand, Tarus. In the vile, sweaty air, Coran could sense the guilt of nervousness in his young Knight. No doubt, the Knights that were on their first assignment were terrified; none had expected a battle, let alone in the dark. It almost made him feel sorry about the novices, almost.
As the footsteps drew nearer, the Knights edged farther and farther back up against the cliff and bridge. Coran bit his lip. Why? Why did it have to be him? He expected to see a figure in the darkness that of a female, but no such shape emerged; the footsteps stopped almost immediately. But it wasn’t just one set; it was all of them.
A slight crack of a rock snapped somewhere near Coran, who swung his sword without thinking twice. But this act was of foolishness. Instead of hitting a woman, he hit the rock-solid boulder; a sudden shudder arose in his body, as the blade quivered against the boulder, sending a slight numbness throughout his body after the shudder.
Many of the Knights jumped at the sudden clang of metal against a rock-solid surface, which seemed to echo throughout the entire canyon. Feeling wobbly and vulnerable, Coran heaved his body forward, taking up his sword once again, at the ready. After the second of numbness, Coran glanced right and left, unknowing where the people or thing approaching went. But one thing came that dreaded him and his whole command; a Knight fell to the ground heavily somewhere to his left behind him. Through the silver light of the moon, Coran could see frothy, warm blood flowing and trickling on the rusty ground. Then Coran noticed where the blood had come from and wished he hadn’t looked; the Knight that had fallen was beheaded...



The smell of burning wood and straw came to Fado’s nose, as well as smoke that clouded his lungs. He choked and coughed, looking for the source of this smoke and smell. Fado stepped forward, eyes watering like mad in the smoke. He began making his way through the entrance to the Lost Woods, until it occurred to him that the smoke was coming from the Kokiri Forest. Then he started brushing tree limbs out of his way, rushing towards the hollowed log that served as the entryway. He ran faster than he could before, passing through the log and out to the cliff that overlooked the houses of the forest.
What he saw made him sick to his stomach. The whole forest; the houses; the shops; the trees and plants, all on fire. The flames roared with fury as they continued, not giving up. Fado then realized what had happened; below, next to the entryway to the forest itself, stood a man about six foot with a great build. He was wearing a robe that was of the color of red and gold, along with a red marking that looked like one of the symbols of Hyrule, the red phoenix. Beside this man stood two men that appeared to be Knights; they were wearing heavy blue armor with the Triforce embossed on the very center of their breastplates. Both were slightly in front of the man with swords drawn, revealing their naked blades.
The man behind them, however, was not a Knight. Instead, he looked like he was of royalty. A golden crown rested upon his wispy, graying hair with many jewels sparkling. On his fingers, Fado could make out what appeared to be rings. He had many rings, some with different designs or with many jewels that were crested inside their shell of gold. It was the king of Hyrule...
Fado gaped at this sight. What would he, the king of Hyrule, be doing here? He never came into the forest. Never. But perhaps the thing that disturbed Fado most of all was the sight that now lay before him. One Kokiri was running, but a Knight had caught up to him; with one sword stroke up the back, the Kokiri fell, dead. Others laid, dead, massacred by the Knights. Some of the Knights stood, laughing at the sight.
The flames that licked some of the bodies filled the air with the smell of burning flesh. But, the fire that engulfed the trees was dying down, leaving crisp and warm leaves, the color of light brown. The sun behind the trees was near to setting, the twilight. Upon the withered trees were the leaves that stood out, but combined with the setting sun, it looked like a forest of autumn twilight...


Fado woke up yelling. He sat up slowly on his bed as cold sweat trickled down the back of his neck and down his forehead. His heart was beating strangely faster than normal; he also seemed out of breath. What, he thought, What was that dream about? Before he could think about it anymore, Saria opened up his door, looking frantic. Fado’s windows were open after all, and Saria kept hers open during the night.
“What’s wrong?” she asked worriedly. Then she began asking him more questions, “Are you hurt? Did something happen? Answer m-”
“I’m fine, Saria!” Fado interrupted, still out of breath.
He looked at her and nodded, trying to assure her that he was okay, well, for the most part. Still, what about the dream? So strange. Was this a premonition? Never in his live time did he have dreams that were like that. Another question also rang in his head. Why would the king of Hyrule be here, in the forest, destroying it? All these questions swarmed his head, trying to figure out the answer. Then it occurred to him that Saria was still there.
He glanced up at her and smiled sheepishly, trying to play the innocent act. Saria didn’t take this for an answer. Fado could tell that she wasn’t buying it. Saria walked up and sat down next to Fado. He blinked at her, still trying to play that nothing happened. This, attempt however, didn’t work either. Fado sighed and then confessed, “It was a dream, okay? Just some stupid bad dream. People sometimes yell when they’re having a nightmare or a dream of the sort. Okay?”
Saria looked at him, still somehow concerned. “Fado, you know I’m concerned. You can’t get rid of me. I worry about you...” she said softly, almost to a whisper. Fado nodded slowly, trying to forgive himself for yelling at her. Saria sighed and took one last look at him.
“Really Saria, I’m fine...” he said to her. Saria nodded, acknowledging his safety and left his house. He watched her walk away and into her house through his window.
Fado was still dripping in cold sweat and still, the questions were running through his mind. He held his knees close to his chest and put his face into his forearms that were rested on his knees. How awful. The forest on fire? Let alone the slaughter that took place before his eyes in the dream. But some things were unclear. What about the Deku Tree? Of course Fado wasn’t in the position to see the great tree, but still. And the question that he wanted to be answered the most was this: Why would the king of Hyrule and his army attack the forest? What did the Kokiri ever do to them (in the dream)?
One last thing rang through his mind. Was it a premonition? Or, was it just an ordinary dream? Things like this had happened before. There had been many tales that involved ‘important’ people dreaming about things that depicted as a sign of things to come. No, it couldn’t have been premonition. How could anything so bizarre happen in the first place? Sleep. I’ll just have to think about this in the morning...



Then the next strike came without warning. Another Knight fell to the ground; the armor that clothed the Knight sent out a sharp bang that echoed from the valley five times louder, penetrating the silence. Many of the other Knights continued to stare, wide-eyed at the sight before them. The horses were starting to back onto the bridge, whinnying fearfully. One figure stood alone among the others, followed by another, standing by his commander’s side. Coran cursed hoarsely under his breath; eyes filled with raged. The cowards! They rely on sneak attacks! Tarus wasn’t so delighted by the scenes though. He began to back up like the rest of the men, fearful of what might happen.
The anger that filled Coran came from two things: his command, that wasn’t doing a single thing; backing up, to scared of being killed (even though Coran didn’t admit it, he was too). Second: the figures in the darkness that Coran guessed were Gerudos. All they did was pull sneak attacks and already two of his men were dead. They should just come out and fight like men. But oh no, they just had to conceal themselves. Coran however, did give them a little bit of credit for using the darkness to their advantage, just a little.
Something else rang among his deep thoughts that had cornered him before they even set foot into the valley. Why in the world did the king of Hyrule want them to raid the Gerudos? Was it revenge? In fact, Coran didn’t hear a thing about revenge. The Gerudos barely did a thing; considering they were filthy desert scum. Barely they would come and try to attack the market, but every attempt failed. Or was it simply the king’s greed? He’d said something about getting rid of the minor races, which he called small parasites. But he wasn’t talking about the Gorons or Zoras. They were a race that had a sizable margin that the king respected. The main two races that he was meaning were the Gerudos and the Kokiri. The Gerudos were against the other races, while the Kokiri on the other hand, never helped during wartime or partake in battles; they just sat in their little forest, hiding from the fights that broke out.
Coran brushed this though out of his mind abruptly and though it wise to pay attention what would appear to be a bloody scene before him and his command. The state of this battle already was bad. Knights were backing up in fear, horses whinnying from the emotion of fear as well. Well, it was time to except this. There was nothing else to do.
Snap! Coran swung his body to his right and stood, teeth bared and fingers interlocked on his blade once again, alarmed by this noise that pierced the silence. He expected a Gerudo to come out and swing at him, but surprisingly, one did not. But what could that sound have been? This was never answered, for when Coran was about to put his guard down, the figure that made the noise leaped at him, sword brandished and pointing straight at him. Just barely, he moved to the side as the features of his attacker were revealed, snarling at him angrily.
She was wearing just a simple tan-like top with an equally tan skirt; she was gripping a blade that appeared to be similar to that of pirates. Nevertheless, the sword gleamed in the illuminating moon that hung above, the blade curving towards the ground slightly near the middle. If this Gerudo thought that she could try and seduce Coran with her looks, she was sadly mistaken. He saw no image in her, just that of a filthy, thieving desert woman. Hopefully his men wouldn’t be fooled by it. Whether that was true with the two Knights that were felled, he didn’t know.
The woman jumped again at him while Coran responded by dodging the stroke that she had used presumably to kill him. Next she tried it again, the same reply from Coran; this time, however, he struck with his own slash in her back, killing her. Then he glanced ahead of him to his next attacker who ran briskly towards him, sword held straight out with firm arms forward. Upon this attacker, he ducked her stroke and lunged with his sword, felling her in a brisk move.
Now the battle had begun. Now the Gerudos were coming in swarms. Now the Knights had to protect themselves, on there own. Many female figures swarmed the darkness ahead of them, emitting battle cries and brandishing their pirate-like swords. Some carried spears or javelins you could say. Raising the wooden shaft slightly above their heads and hurling them at their target. More of the command was felled, making others grimace at the sight before them. Some of the horses were slaughtered, falling to the ground with a loud thud! Some of the horses still whinnying at the agony of the pain.
Coran scowled at the cowardice of his men. One thing was for sure; he couldn’t win a battle on his own; being a one-man army. If and when he got of this fight, he would report the lack of facing your own demise; even if part of his command was or wasn’t alive. Sure, you may be facing death (which Coran was not found of as well), but hell, if you’re going to die you might as well go out with a bang.
Accepting this, Coran charged into the fray, swinging his sword up high, for once forgetting about his men.


After the seemingly endless cloudy sky, the Moon started to show its beautiful and silver shining face illuminated the heart of the Kokiri Forest where the great Deku Tree dwelled. Great heaves of breath came from the snoring the great tree made, blowing the slightest little trees way back, almost touching the ground; though the much and more mature, taller trees stood still, they also blew back, though not near as close to touching the ground. The great tree’s graying brows were furrowed, as if it were troubled by something.

A great fire, yes. It appears to be well within the sanction of my forest. My graceful children, harmed by this streak of rage. The entire forest engulfed in flames; who could do such a thing? The Great Deku Tree suddenly awoke abruptly at the sound of a bat, flapping its wings overhead. He could hear the most delicate things in nature; voices swarmed him from all directions. The animals of the forest; the earth itself; the plants, trees and many other things that grew spoke to him.
The tree loosened its brows slowly, peering up at the Moon. A sudden stiffness is carried among the breath of the wind, the Deku Tree thought, a sign of things to come? Or are my children, forest and I already in danger? Something’s already gone wrong. The disturbance of the races. Yes, that was surly it. It was true; the tree could sense it. Blood has already been spilt this night. The Hylians have struck at the Gerudos, an unwise move. My inner thoughts tell me that the king of Hyrule is up to no good...


Coran struck another Gerudo down and then another and another. These Gerudos definitely had an impressive plan: using their numbers to their advantage, and presumably another fact would be is their looks; they could easily steal the hearts of men. Wave after wave came. Coran’s naked blade blushed a rosy red in the illuminating Moonlight. This fight was definitely far from over. He wasn’t sure whether his men were fighting, but Coran was already worn out from the countless waves that he had already plowed through.
A couple of times Coran almost met his death upon resting a short while. But this time he was out of the hoard of Gerudos and off to the side, trying to regain his stamina. My god, he thought, how big of an army do they have? Well, mainly not an army, a group I should say. Huffing and puffing, he stood still, but kept his guard up. Just a little longer... A sudden battle cry awakened from behind him. Coran turned, but all he could see was blood and then everything...Black. His head rolled to the ground, blood trickling out from his severed head. Just a lifeless head staring up with already pale skin. The woman who killed him had crept up from behind and finished him off. She walked out from the shadows and glanced at his head, then kicked it off and down into the gushing river below. Commander Coran was dead...

“Forest of Autumn Twilight, Chapter II”
__________________________________________________________________

Forest of Autumn Twilight
By: Fado

Chapter II: Artemis
A bright and gleaming Sun arose the next day; it looked like an orb of magical light. The magnificent light filtered in through the many stained glass windows of Hyrule Castle. Some of the images on the glass depicted of ancient battles and confrontations with mythical beasts such as dragons, or with that of an evil wizard that threatened the land of Hyrule.
“Is it true about Coran?” a cold, malicious voice rang out across a brightened throne room. “My scouts say that him and his command were slaughtered last night in the Gerudo Valley by those ill-tamed desert rats,”
“Yes, your highness,” another voice rang, answering the question that was given. “Apparently the fool didn’t listen to well to your instructions, sir,”
The cold eyes of a man narrowed under his dark and furrowed brows; his thin lips were in a straight line above his graying beard that matched his equally graying fine, wispy hair. His nostrils flared warningly, but remained slits like that of a snake. A red and gold robe clothed him with one of the many symbols of Hyrule, the red phoenix. Atop his head lay a golden crown with many jewels sticking out. The king of Hyrule was sitting on his throne, conversing with one of his best watchers or Ranger you could say. He was wearing a dark robe with a hood that mainly hid his face. Stringy silver hair lofted down across his thin silver eyebrows that housed below bright and attractive violet eyes. A sword rested at his waist, sheathed in its blue case.
“Hmm. I never really liked that fool of a Knight anyway. But, what I do think is that finally, those desert rats have taken a commander off my shoulders that I wasn’t very fond of. They actually did me some good,” the king eyed his servant carefully. “But,” he continued. “This doesn’t go well with my plan for annihilating every race that doesn’t help us in our affairs...”
“I definitely agree, sir. One as powerful as yourself should wipe away every race on this earth that doesn’t comply with us,” the servant agreed slyly, a thin smile coming to his face.
Still, hearing this, the king eyed his servant, but began, “I know. But lets try something different this time, Draken. Let’s say, a race that can’t really defend itself to an attack.”
The servant known as Draken raised his silver eyebrows curiously, wondering what new plan his master could be hatching. “What do you have in mind, sir?”
The king smiled disturbingly, then confessed, “My idea is the Kokiri Forest.” This caused Draken’s brows to raise higher. The king could tell that Draken was pondering this carefully.
“For what reason?” Draken asked.
“Simple. They never come out from within their little, let’s say—forest sanctuary. Think of it, Draken. The name fits it what we Hylians have given it, Gwn Nerkdessha—the Forest of Sorrow. They never supply us with any type of material at all, think about it Drake—What is it?” the king cut off abruptly, angered by a sudden interruption.
A small stout man walked slowly down smooth red carpet up towards the throne. Draken moved to the side and noticed it was a messenger. In the man’s hands rest a quill and a piece of parchment. Something was written, but Draken couldn’t see it from where he stood; the writing however, was very scrawny. Draken glanced smugly from the servant to the king, changing his expression from smug to curiosity.
“Y—Your highness!” he shouted unexpectedly, obviously nervous from coming before the king. But he wasn’t the only one. Just about a month ago, Draken was in conversing with the king over a tax reduction plan for the main villages of Kakiriko and Hyrule Market Town. A man—messenger just like this one, came in very suddenly, bringing forth the results of this plan, seeing who voted for it. And of course, the conclusion was very likely—several voted yes. The man stood before Draken and the king, sweating like mad. It took him about ten minutes just to get out the first paragraph. Of course, most of the veteran guards and servants had already quelled their fear and were brave enough to tell of news or something else.
Draken checked all nine fields on this person just to be sure it wasn’t an assassin of some kind, but soon declared it safe.I An imp or monster could easily shroud itself with blindness to the eye under a Concealment spell; or a person either way.
“Get on with it!” snapped the king irritably. “As you can see, I’m in the middle of a conversation with somebody, and make it quick!” This act caused the man to jump and stammer more. Draken smiled cruelly. Useless waffle. This boy had obviously no idea who he was dealing with here.
The king that sat upon his throne was more than a king; he was a rightful ruler. All should obey his every command and quiver in fear. Of course he cared for his people greatly, which some didn’t really think so, but he despised all who cam against him with force or not helping around. Two good examples would be the Gerudos, selfish, thieving desert rats that were mostly rebellious against the king’s command and, the Kokiri, young children who won’t help with the other races outside of their dingy, little forest.
But Draken was full of mystery. Always clothed in a dark robe and face hidden from anybody except the king. He was always in contact with the king; feeding him information and spying on the other neighboring lands that surrounded Hyrule. He was a very good servant, quick wits and cunning, a good match for a Ranger.II Draken had been abandoned long ago by his family and set out on his own, to take up the class of a Ranger. Just a few years earlier he had come to the king, requesting to ask for his demands of setting him out. The king was amazed at this request and accepted it. For after they had met, both found out that they were both alike each other in a number of ways.


“I wish I knew what that dream had meant, Saria,” Fado said to her. They were sitting on a brown and white checkered blanket in the wet almost dewy-like grass. Fado sat with his cap off and legs and arms crossed, pondering the dream he had last night. “This dream really concerns me though,” he said cryptically.
Saria frowned slightly. Fado was always a strange person. For as long as she knew him, Fado was always quiet and would barely speak to anyone about his emotions and feelings. She had assumed it was for privacy, close, but not quite. Some of this had changed though, once he and Saria had become friends. But still, he kept quiet at times as well. “Maybe it was just a dream,” she insisted, trying to make him less concerned about this matter. “Besides, what was it even about? Oh...Please Fado...You never tell me anything these days...” she whined, trying to get information out of him.
Fado looked at her and was surprised to see her actually trying this time. Usually she would try to get information, but then Fado would yell at her and that was the end of the matter. She was really determined this time; he could see it in her eyes. To her plea, he actually smiled somewhat. Hopefully this is a good thing, she thought. He finally sighed and then confessed, “Okay, you got me this time,” Success! “But just because I’m telling you, don’t think that I’ll tell you any other time!” he said almost playfully, but mostly serious. Saria nodded slowly with an emotionless face. She too was now taking it seriously. This was her chance; she wasn’t going to blow it.
“Okay,” he began slowly, “It goes like this...”



“Sir!” the servant peeped out to the king. “I will gladly start!”
Miserable fool, Draken thought smugly in his dark robe, finally! You’ve already wasted enough our time with your sniveling!
“L—Let’s see then, r—right!” the messenger began. “It seems that there is a message from the Kokiri,”
“Hmm?” the king pondered out loud. Why would the children, the Kokiri, send a message? “Please continue...” he said briskly.
The messenger cleared his throat and began again, “It seems that there is a message from the Kokiri. This particular message came from the council of the Kokiri,” the messenger unfolded a piece of pale yellow parchment and began to read:

Dear loyal King of Hyrule,

It has come to our attention that you have been angered by our lack of helping with your affairs. As you very well know, we children, the Kokiri, believe it in our best interest to stay as far away from Hyrule and its beings as possible. The reason you ask? We believe that if one of us Kokiri steps out from this forest haven, then that child shall die. As of this notice, we are indeed afraid of what might happen if one of our tribe steps out of our sanctuary. In this case, we fear that our whereabouts to a possible unknown tribe, monster, or person will be revealed. We are sorry that we could and can not help in any further way possible.

Sincerely,

High Council of the Kokiri


Draken glanced up at the king when the messenger was finished. But this time, he seemed to speak up. “Well?” he asked, his tone icy.
The King groped his beard and stroked it for a second, bewildered by this message. Then he glanced down at Draken and blinked, but turned his attention back to the messenger. He raised up his hand, queuing the man to leave. The man bowed and marched off behind and out of the throne room. Now, both of them had the room to themselves.
“What do you think of it, Draken?” the King said out loud, avoiding Draken’s gaze. “The message, I mean. I’ve pondered my decision already and think it’s clear...I’m just curious what you think...”
Draken smirked slightly, but then replied, “Your highness, I believe that since these little ‘parasites’, as you call them, should be watched first before making your decision. Of this, I do not know myself; you could call it intuition if you wanted to. But, quite frankly, I believe there is a possibility that they may decide something else...”
“Oh?” the King said, suddenly interested. “What else could they decide? And, why spy on them?”
“Like I said, I have no idea why, but I have a feeling that as such, if we watch them, and, if they make a move, we can trace them. Follow them, basically. They may choose to hide out for this particular reason, you see, sir,”
“I never though about that...” the King drifted off, pondering Draken’s reply. After a fraction of a heartbeat, the King nodded slightly as if his mind was made up and called upon the Ranger. “Draken,”
“Yes, sir?”
“I’m going to leave it up to you...you may use any of your tactics...but please, come back and give me information about the Kokiri’s situation, got it?” the King added, more scornfully.
“Yes, sir,”
“Good, you may go about your business...”
Draken nodded slightly and turned on his heal, heading towards the entrance to the throne room. After closing the door behind him, Draken found himself in the center of many hallways, all leading off to many different rooms and vice-versa. He then decided to get to work. “Artemeria Nevadra,” he hissed under his breath. The oil lamps that were hung along the white-stone walls flickered violently, as if a strong wind blew though. Draken continued walking; the tapestries of Kings that ruled in the past seemed to become covered with ice. Becoming hard, they stuck against the wall like being melted to them. The bottom of Draken’s cloak whirled up vertically around him. His face was revealed from the sudden rush. The walls themselves started to creak, shifting slightly. The glass that surrounded the oil lamp shattered, scattering shards everywhere. A slight coldness wept through the hallway. The hallway, everything around, was wrapped in power, like a cloak wrapped around a body. A slight tingling sensation ran up Draken; he didn’t seem to notice and care less about it.
Continuing on, Draken turned down the hallway that was opposite to the throne room. This particular door was silver with a gold handle; instead of being one-sided, it was double-sided. The power that hung around him opened the door itself. Draken walked down white stone steps and out into a little clearing, then stood still. Several of the branches around him popped and cracked from the power; it seemed nothing could escape its wrath. The smell of brimstone filled the area; it clouded Draken almost haze-like.
Draken glanced up at an old and gnarled oak branch to see what looked to be a Skull Kid. The monster giggled at him. Draken frowned and gritted his teeth in anger. The brimstone smell was lifting from the clearing, fresh air pouring in. Draken eyed the monster carefully. He should’ve known this would happen.
“You will come down here now,” he began threateningly. “Or, I will banish you to the Shadow Realm...”III
With this said, the Skull Kid became suddenly quiet and started to get nervous. Draken smiled at the sight of this being quivering before him. Nobody made a fool out of him and he got what he wanted. Finally, after a few heartbeats, the monster flipped forward from the tree and transformed before touching the ground. What once was a monster was now a boy that stood before Draken.
He was fairly handsome; probably attract the girls if he was in town. His shoulder length blonde hair was straight and was combed finely. Sparkling white teeth showed in a broad grin. His outfit was that of a casual pair of jeans and that of a white tee shirt with a navy blue light jacket over top. On his feet were leather shoes that were laced up tightly. At his side rest a blue leather sheath, and sticking out the end was a silver handle with an emerald that was carved into the end of the handle. Overall, this boy’s appearance was different then anything Draken had seen. The clothing was the strangest thing; never had Draken seen anything like it.
“Where did you get that clothing, Artemis?” he asked, addressing the Djinni. What peculiar clothing...The boy’s grin broadened.
“Like it, do ya?” he said cheerfully, forgetting the threat that was given to him. Obviously Draken had forgot too and was mixed up in curiosity at the site of the clothes. But suddenly Draken realized the trance he had fallen into and then the remark that the Djinni made to him rang in his head.
“Think your funny do you?” he snarled, almost spitting; his tone changed almost abruptly.
“No,” Artemis shrugged. “But, do you want to know where I got these clothes?”
“Hell if I know...”
“I got them from a human. I was actually summoned by a human a few months earlier, and during the time he commanded m-”
“A—Human?!” Draken asked, disbelieving the very thought itself. “You were summoned by a human? How is that possible?”IV
“Your guess is as good as mine...” Artemis shrugged again. “But, they do have a ‘fashion sense’ if I may say...” Draken continued to look in disbelief, but shoved the thought away for now. “Your command?” Artemis said patiently.
“Ah, yes,” Draken said calmly, gladly getting down to business. “I command you to spy on the children of the Kokiri Forest, and report back any information that you get possible, is that clear?”
“Yes,” the Djinni yawned, bored by having to do yet another sit and wait mission, but, he had no choice. “How long?”
“A long as I want you to!” snapped Draken.
“Okay, okay...Fine,” with that last sentence, Artemis immediately transformed from a boy to a jet-black raven, taking flight high above the tops of the trees in the clearing. Draken stood and watched the raven go, but soon retired back into the castle, waiting for Artemis’ message to arrive sometime...



After hearing Fado’s story about the dream he had, Saria sat, staring at nothing, bewildered by this dream. But, just like Fado, she too began to grow concerned as every minute went by. And, alas, the same question rang in her head: Was this a premonition? Or, was it just simply a dream? She too was dumbfounded by what the dream might have meant. The Kokiri Forest on fire...But that didn’t seem possible. Could it indeed happen? And, what of the Deku Tree? What had happened to him? Fado said he couldn’t see it from the view he was at, but still...What happened to him? she thought uneasily.
“Saria?” Fado’s voice rang in the clearing. Saria suddenly snapped back into the world. She had been in a kind of trance, from Fado’s point of view. She looked at him, blinking. He closed his eyes and smiled. “Please...Let’s try not and worry about this...Here,” he offered her a bowl that was filled to the brim with salad. “Let’s eat! I’m starving!”
“Okay!” she smiled back, accepting the bowl.


Author’s Note: This next part is from Artemis’ point of view. In this case, for those who do not know, Artemis’ point of view will be classified as a first-person view, like in certain video games (examples: 007 games, Metroid Prime, ect.) Since the switch to this view, now this is where the words me, I, us, and so forth come in. Just a little background on Language Arts a.k.a. English!

I sat, perched on a small branch, an itch just on the top of my marigold-colored beak. I attempted to scratch the area with a long, jet-black wing, but, to no avail, the attempt failed. This tree was fairly young, a young willow as a matter of fact. Below my perch I could see two people who I presumed to be part of the Kokiri race. V
One a boy, the other a girl. Their clothing to me was shocking: all green, the greenest of fields. You’d think they were brother and sister. But the girl stood out; her hair was green itself! Gee, I thought, you must be pretty desperate to have your hair green! Or, maybe it was the fact that she wanted to be different, or simply the fact that she was born this way, alas, I do not know.
Both of them appeared to be having lunch. They were sitting on a comforter with a brown wicker basket and a few bowls, along with a bag. Among the food they were eating was salad (in one bowl), sandwiches that were pulled out of the basket wrapped in plastic, a couple of glasses, a carton of milk and a variety of fruits.VI I sat silently, watching them devour the many different types of foods and was curios of how the Kokiri acted. Never getting old. Never growing up. All wearing the same color...Strange. What was the truth behind this race? I’d have to look into that some other day, for now, I had work to do.
I took off, feeling the wind caressing through my black feathers. My beady black eyes scanned the ground before me as I entered what I thought looked like the center of the forest. Many small hut-like houses were rested on the ground. They appeared to be made from simple wood and straw. Before I made my descent into the lower part of the forest, I checked all nine fields, checking to see if a guard of some sort may be out, watching for intruders. This turned out to be the latter, no guard at all. This to me was a scary idea, no defense in case of intruders or an attack? Or was it simply that the Kokiri did not have very much or no magical abilities or properties?
I landed in a small clearing, out of sight and earshot. Making sure nobody was watching, I quickly transformed into that of a sandy haired boy with a green tunic and leather belt with equally leather boots. Slowly and cautiously, I walked out into the crowd of the children. This guise seemed to fit me nicely.VII Many were talking and laughing over some conversations that I heard and didn’t hear. After browsing around the village, I froze from the sound of a voice, directing his attention to me.
Slowly, I turned and looked to see a red haired boy with freckles peering at me, eyeing me up and down. His apparel was obvious: green tunic, leather belt and boots, and lastly a real small green cap. Sweat trickled slightly down across my temple, my heart pounding.
“Who are you?” the boy said smugly, glaring at me. “I don’t recognize you, where do you live? What’s your name? Answer me!” You filthy rat, I thought, he must be their leader...
“Huh?” he asked impatiently. “Did you not hear me? Do I have to spell it out? W-h-a-t i-s y-o-u-r n-a-m-e?” He was really starting to bug me, in fact, irritate me. He had no idea how much power I had in my hands. I could easily squash him simply. Already I could feel the stares of many children, watching this conversation with interest.
“And may I ask what is your name?” I replied icily, anger filling my body.
“So, you want to know what my name is, do you?” he sneered. “It’s Mido, and I’ll have you know that I am in charge of the Kokiri Forest. I’ll ask again, what is your name?”
A crowd was already surrounding us. I glanced at the child faces and was hesitant about speaking any further. I growled softly, thinking of a way to get out of this predicament. Then, the thought came to me abruptly. Why not use a Memory spell on him? Slowly and silently, I raised my right hand and held it in front of Mido’s face. Many of the faces watched with more interest; Mido however, had a fearful look on his face.
“W—What are you d—doing?” he gulped. To my amusement, I grinned slightly. He didn’t know my name, but he and the others would soon. A faint blue glow shrouded my hand, with the color of flesh that looked almost drained from his skin. Mido’s eyes widened shockingly and started to shake uncontrollably. “You, Mido, in charge of the Kokiri Forest,” I began calmly. “Will now remember that, I, the one who stands before you was never here. The same goes for the rest of you...” I continued, glancing at a few of the children’s faces. Then, very suddenly, a blinding flash of blue light illuminated the entire area, while a jet-black crow flew off from the middle of the village. All the Kokiri stood stiff for a moment then returned to themselves, not remembering anything about a boy who just stood before them...
“What are you all looking at?” Mido glared at them all, sneering. Not remembering anything that just happened. The Kokiri just simply shook their heads and went about their business.

Well, I thought, Hopefully this is good enough for Draken. I was sitting once again on a branch, eyeing the Kokiri from my perch. Cause, if he’s not happy, what else? Upon the returning of the bustling and jostling, I noticed that the two Kokiri that I saw in the clearing were approaching the village. One thing I noticed that I didn’t before was that each of the Kokiri had their own fairy. This was strange to me. Never, had I seen a fairy next to another person in my life. There were all sorts of colors of small floating orb-like fairies. Greens, blues, light blues, pinks, everywhere!
Starting to get bored, I decided it was time to head back to Draken to tell him of my ‘information’. I stretched my limbs for a second, relieving my body of stiffness and then bound forward in a dive and flew up above the tops of the forest. In the short distance, I could see Hyrule Castle looming over the market.


Draken paced back and forth, awaiting Artemis’ return. Finally, he stopped and looked towards the sky, determined to find the Djinni. After all, being a Ranger gifted him the abilities to see through the nine fields. He wasn’t too concerned about Artemis pulling a move on him. After a few moments Draken became impatient and decided to summon the Djinni to him instead of waiting. He closed his violet eyes and cleared his mind of all thoughts, focusing his magic on Artemis. Slowly, an image of a black raven came into his mind. Like a mime, he began to tug at him with his thoughts and magic, trying to bring the raven to him. The smell of brimstone once again filled his nostrils a second later as he opened his eyes to see the Djinni in the Kokiri form.
“Tell me what you saw,” Draken ordered.
“Dismal, I’ll tell you. No action at all. Nothing happening, just sitting on my a-”
“Answer the question!” Draken barked fiercely. “Unless, you wish to pay a visit to the Shadow Realm!” This apparently caught Artemis’ attention, but he replied a little forcefully.
“I’ll tell you what I saw,” he began coolly. “Nothing! Absolutely nothing! Satisfied know are we?”
Draken glared at him and snarled under his breath. “Well, that’s good to hear! At least there’s something you can do! Good, now I can go tell the king about this...” his voice trailed. Artemis eyed him carefully. What was he hiding that he didn’t know? Was he being used for something that dealt with force? Bloodshed maybe?
“Well?” Artemis said impatiently.
“What?”
“Am I free to go?”
“What? I—Yes, yes. Go!” Draken spat. “Good riddance!”
Artemis’ clothes began to dematerialize. Soon only his head was left with a slight grin on his face. Once again came the smell of brimstone to Draken, who snorted. Just something for you to remember me by, Artemis thought slyly. Draken turned on his heal and walked back into the castle, free of Artemis.


Fado sat on his bed, cross-legged and thinking hard. His dream still rattled in his brain. This he couldn’t shake out of his head. It really concerned him. He slowly closed his eyes for a second and reopened them; except now they looked like the time after the council, his eyes half open. His thick blonde hair wafted in the light breeze, rustling his tunic and causing his cap to fall loosely on his woolly comforter beside him. This, Fado didn’t seem to care; he was to lost in deep thought over his dream. After some time he gave up and sighed. Why am I worried about this so much? he thought irritably. Something seemed to bother him. In fact, this time he really considered that the dream was a premonition. But, where was the proof? Fado sighed again and got up off his bed. Usually he went over to Saria’s and ate dinner with her. He glanced outside to see the Sun going down, the twilight.
Almost limply, Fado aroused himself from his train of thought and walked away from his bed and walked outside. While walking, he continued to glance at the twilight and all of a sudden, a surge of images from his dream came back to him. In his dream, it was exactly at the time of the twilight, in fact, just about this time. Remembering this caused him to shudder and left him with disturbed thoughts and emotions. Fear, anger, hatred, sadness...All very powerful emotions. But soon the smell of soup poured from Saria’s side window and came to Fado’s rescue. He approached her door and looked at the twilight once more, still remembering the terrifying images. Managing to shrug the thought off, he knocked on Saria’s door and walked in.