Freedom!

Zelda spread her arms wide, taking in the cool breeze and the soft warmth of the sun. For so long she had been held captive; first by tradition, social standing, and protocol, and then in the literal sense by an all-encompassing malice. But now she rode through the grassy plains of Hyrule, her closest friend by her side, welcoming the challenge ahead of her. When you hit rock bottom, Impa once said, you have nowhere to go but up.

The land looked feral. The once-grand castle and Temple of Time stood in ruins, tufts of grass poking up through bricks, giving the overall impression of a bad haircut. Just in the vicinity of the castle she could see once-bustling settlements standing stark against the sky, burnt wooden beams rising upward like the bones of the Leviathans. Much like herself, the land had been stripped of its frills and furbelows, a picture of ruined finery symbolized in the tattered white dress she still wore when freed from Ganons' grasp.

But it was so very alive.

The trill of birdsong curled in her ears. Deer and wild boar bolted through the grass. Within the sea of emerald green, every once and a while she would spot a smudge of blue and white. The Silent Princess, once at the edge of extinction, had sprung up like mushrooms after the rain. She believed it was an omen – a good omen, after so many bad ones.

Still, a small part of her brain needled at her, telling her she was too happy, that the hundred years of suffering she had endured was not enough to absolve her responsibility in the deaths of her people, her friends, and her father. Do you rejoice that your freedom comes from your father's demise? Have you such hatred in your soul?

She had heard many similar taunts, while suspended in time inside a being of pure evil. All of them aimed at breaking her resolve, extinguishing her light. She learned early on that her best chance at survival was not in trying to overcome it, but matching it word by word, force by force. Mind, body, and soul, she spent every moment matching its power with her own.

And in the process, the febrile evil had taught her something valuable.

It was something she'd read in one of the old books, a quote from one of her ancestors; a statement about darkness and light being two sides of the same coin. One could not have good without evil, hero without villain. The brightest of lights shone in the darkest of times.

Her ancestors had sealed away Ganon, and so had attempted to seal away all evil. Such a thing was impossible. The Yiga were born of the same people who had created those seals, the darkness finding entry in their hearts when they were shunned by the common folk; the common folk themselves invited that darkness when gripped by fear of the unknown. And so, Ganon had emerged once again, using the shackles he had been chained with as weapons.

This time things would be different. Zelda had a new vision for her nation, one that did not involve her perched high upon a throne, looking down her nose at the rest of the world. Her excitement began to build as her plan took form in her mind.

It might have been dismissed as hubris, but she took heart that her companion felt the same way. On that horrible day, when they had fled the castle and she had dissolved in tears of despair, he let her shed a few tears as she held on to him, seeking something solid after everything had blown away.

But after a few moments, he pulled her to her feet. "Princess, we must go."

"I can't!" Zelda had cried, trying to wipe tears and rain from her eyes. "It hurts too much…I can't go on."

She stared up into his eyes, pleading, and saw his gaze flick from her to the growing darkness behind them. "We must. It's coming."

"What difference does it make?!" Zelda shouted in anger born of misery. "Everyone we care about is dead, and it won't be long before It kills us too. What's the point of running? Where are we going to go?"

"We must," he repeated, and held out his hand. "Where there is life, there is hope."

She took both his hand and his words to heart. With the world crumbling around them, they hurried on, and he continued to defend her until he could barely stand. When that Guardian had targeted him, she had seen Death reflected in his eyes, and suddenly everything else fell away. The coldness that had gripped her heart since her mother died melted away, and something burst forth.

A bright light in a dark place.

And now, with so much life around them, they both held so much hope for the future.

She was happy. And that was a rare thing.

Link's memory was still very spotty, but he knew that Zelda's happiness was not something he had seen very often. Sadness, yes, and anger as well. But there had been only a very few times when unbridled joy had shone on her face. It hadn't left since she had returned, and he was glad of it.

Zelda had promised that after they had paid their respects to the Zora king, they would visit the Shekiah in Kakariko and Hateno and see if anything could be done. He had made many new friends in his adventures, and there were certainly things from his past that he wouldn't mind forgetting. But his loss of memory made him feel alien, as if he were a traveler to this land, not born of it. As well as he knew Hyrule now, he wanted to remember how it had once been.

If for no other reason than the fact that he wanted to remember more of Zelda.

They had been very close, Impa had said. This showed in the few memories he had recovered. He could feel unconsciously a bond between himself and the Princess, but that too felt strangely alien. As if she were a long-lost relative from his childhood.

Link kept his eyes open as they rode along, scouting ahead. There were still monsters here and there; Zelda said that they would eventually die off, with no blood moon to resurrect them. He had not seen a single Yiga, after being harassed by them for so long; he did not know if they had died along with Ganon or simply dispersed, seeking another foul god to follow.

But aside from monsters, he also sought things to jog his memory. From what the Zora had told him, he had grown up on the outskirts of their domain, until he was old enough to join his father as a knight. The young Zora all recognized him, yet he still had trouble matching names to faces.

Suddenly he saw something that sparked an image in the dark recesses of his mind. "That one!" he said, pointing to a rock in the distance. Zelda halted her horse and looked at him expectantly. Unlike her father, she was not one to state that servants should only speak when spoken to. Still, he felt no need to throw words away. "That rock. That's where I met Mipha. I broke my leg."

Zelda turned toward the innocuous-looking boulder. "What happened? Don't tell me that thing rolled over you!"

Link shook his head. "We were playing. Pretending to be Rito. I tied some bedsheets and jumped off."

"Honestly?" Zelda could not help but laugh. "How old were you?"

"Three? Maybe four?"

"Goddesses, Link, were you always this reckless?"

"Mother would say, I gave her a new gray hair each day." He grimaced slightly at the memory. "I was so bad. The other kids ran off to find a grown-up…they came back with Mipha." He scratched his head for a while, then frowned. "And…that's all I remember."

"Don't force it, Link." Zelda spoke gently. "It'll come."

"Oh!" Link dismounted and began rummaging around in the pack on the horse's back. "I almost forgot…I should wear this." He pulled out the armor Mipha had made for him. He yanked off his shirt and glanced up to see Zelda pointedly looking away. "Sorry…I'm used to being alone."

"No, it's just…I feel responsible, that's all."

"Oh?" He looked down at himself, still surprised to see the crisscross of scars on his body. He knew where they came from, yet he did not remember the pain of those wounds. Just one of the things he was more than willing to forget. "Not your fault."

"That's a beautiful outfit," Zelda said, eager to change the subject. "Did the King give it to you?"

"No. They said…Mipha made it for me." He frowned deeper, lost in thought.

They said that Mipha had loved him. Apparently it had been so obvious that all the male Zora held a grudge for a hundred years. Link didn't remember any of this. When the few images he had of her came to mind, he saw an elder sister. He felt he was not honoring her memory well enough. If she had felt this way, shouldn't he have felt something in return? Or maybe he did, and had forgotten?

"Link, are you all right?" He looked up to see Zelda staring at him, concern written all over her face.

He nodded, and mounted his horse, then nudged it forward. Zelda followed without a word. He appreciated that she would let him be silent when he wanted to. More than once the king had commanded him to speak.

Mipha's ghost still haunted him, even though he felt it would pain her to know that. He'd already made up his mind to use a month's worth of words and talk it over with Prince Sidon.

The ghosts of all the Champions still followed him, and he couldn't move on until he had put them to rest.