It was not the sword that could save the soldier, but their hands. With the plague of monsters descending Hyrule, more and more soldiers watched their swords break or fall. Not everyone, after all, was lucky enough to have a sword as sharp or tough as Impa's. It was what their soldiers did with their hands afterwards that determined their character and loyalty to Hyrule.

Knowing Zelda, she would surely fight with her hands if all other weapons were lost. Impa could see her now, the image of her right before her eyes and yet forever out of her reach. Ever since her disappearance, the whole kingdom had seemed to stumble on shaking legs, hoping for the return of their princess.

Impa supposed it was her fault, if anything. The captain had been ahead fighting off a hoard of moblins, and Link had been fighting Volga. Impa was closest to Zelda, and yet had been unable to do anything when she was in danger.

Now, Hyrule's castle was left empty. Her footsteps echoed across the stone floor, and her sword remained ever tight in her hands. It was as if something had vanished along with Zelda - though Impa couldn't quite think of a word for it.

There was news of course, of a rebellion being lead by a woman. There wasn't much description of her, just rumors tied together.

Still, Impa hoped.

After all, if she didn't save Zelda then she would never again feel her hands against Impa's own.