Author's Note: Did you think this story had been discontinued? That I'd dropped off of the face of the planet and forgotten all about Hyrule and its dilemma? I don't blame you. But I am happy to correct you, for I have not stopped working on this story at all - there was never even a hiatus. What I stopped doing was posting updates online, and the reasons behind that are simple: first, I can't help but work non-linearly; and second, I will have to do a lot of editting once Skyward Sword comes out anyway.

To illustrate my point, I'll tell you now that you might want to (but don't have to in order to still follow the story) go back and reread the previous chapters. There is a lot more content (including a whole new chapter) and much has changed. I go back to add and fix things quite often as I progress further in the story, and I would feel bad having to tell my readers to go back and reread or they won't get it. As far as the second reason: as you may have noticed, even though I go out on a limb quite often and come up with some pretty crazy imaginitive links between games, I try to make everything in my story as canon as possible. That means that I try to add and to explain rather than subtract or contradict. So when Skyward Sword comes out, I'll likely have to change quite a bit to keep it from contradicting whatever happens in that game. That being said, if you find any direct contradictions between my story and any game then PLEASE TELL ME. I can't tell you how much I'll appreciate it, as I certainly can't catch everything. The same goes for typos, spelling or grammatical errors.

While continuing to write The Last of Us, I have also formed ideas (and outlines) for two other stories within Zelda canon. One is a (sort of) prequel and the other is a (sort of) sequel - and I'm not saying any more than that, but it's far more complicated. You won't see these at the very least until The Last of Us is entirely finished, but I may not be able to fit everything that I want to in... so you may possibly have some oneshots to look forward to even before I start posting more of this story.

At the moment, 30 chapters are planned and at approximately 5100 words per chapter, that will make the full story clock in at about 153,000 words - about the size of a 500 page novel. I have a lot of work ahead of me. In the meantime, however, I thought I'd let you guys know that I have far from abandoned this story by giving you what is at the moment chapter nine. If certain things seem a little bit off, it's because another chapter is in the works to be inserted between seven and eight when it's ready. I don't think it should be too hard to follow, though.

Thanks for reading!

P.S. Even if I don't post something for a while, it isn't because I'm not working on the story and it doesn't mean that I'm not receiving your input. From now on I will reply to all reviews, because I love them and every time I see a new one I do a happy dance.

Although the bridge to Kakariko would have provided my best option for shelter for the night, I had decided to press on; it was only an hour or so out from the village, and I had to take care under the possibility that I would be followed. As I passed over, however, I noted the fires springing up beneath – apparently I wasn't the only one who saw the potential for cover. My eyes met with haggard faces on the road, and there seemed to be a universal reluctance to make eye contact. I had the distinct impression as I went that everyone was pretending that I was not there and that they expected the same courtesy from me.

I travelled until a few hours before dawn, breaking often from the road in search of shelter – so much as a tree would have been acceptable, though all that I found were stumps – and when I didn't find any, I found myself in a difficult position. I was exhausted both mentally and physically and still hadn't decided on where to go when, trudging along with eyes barely open, I noticed a pale ball of light to the north. Curious, I crept closer, making sure to be completely silent as I approached. When I reached it, I found that the light came from a glass lamp suspended upon a stick stuck in the ground, slightly worn but beautifully ornate beneath the grime. A ghostly pale light came from its depths, seeming to surge up a long distance… it was like looking up at moonlight from under murky water.

"Fascinating, isn't it?" A voice said, and I immediately withdrew my concealed wakizashi, my tired eyes scanning the darkness.

"Who is there?" I asked, my voice entirely more confident than I felt. How would I be able to fight in this state, and in this horrible dress?

"No need to arch your back, kitten," laughed the voice, and a fire was suddenly kindled several yards away. Beside it with folded legs sat a frightening figure of a man, a crooked grin spread across his badly scarred face. While Dampé had been bent and disfigured, it had been a natural sort of ugliness; this man was anything but natural. His right eye was missing and the area of his face around it seemed to have twisted and folded around the wound. Yet somehow more frightening was the sight of his single remaining eye, which glinted red in the firelight. His grin was too wide for his face; I think that he had more than the normal number of teeth, and some of them were pointed.

"The lamp… it contains a soul. My soul, in fact. Come, come, sit down by the fire… I am not so nice as Dampé, but I have no cause to harm you."

I approached slowly and with a fair share of apprehension, fully aware that he had just read my thoughts. I closed off my mind swiftly, and his grin grew – he had sensed the severed connection, but said nothing. I sat on the other side of the low fire and held out my hands to warm them, observing my unlikely companion more closely as I did. He seemed entirely unperturbed by my scrutiny and merely stared with that one eye glinting.

He wore a dark cloak that did not fully hide his odd shape or the royal crest at his middle. This man was once a guard in Castle Town. To display the crest in these times was daring; it told me that he had little regard for the current authority and was probably very talented at evasion. His legs looked awkward, and upon closer inspection I discovered that it was because his left thigh looked shrivelled and slightly curved. Oddly, he wore no shoes. My eyes flickered over his frightening features once more and then slid quickly away to gaze at the strange wooden cages he had stacked up behind him.

I jumped as he suddenly lifted a wooden stick and laid a hard whack across the metal bars of one of the cages. He laughed at my reaction; it was a high thin sound, unnerving.

"Aah, so the lady cannot see my wards… well, few have the ability."

"The ability to what?" I asked, as he began drawing on the dirt in front of him with his stick.

"Why, the ability to see…" I looked down at his drawing. It was a single eye, staring straight forward. "The dead, that is." And he cackled again.

"Familiar, no?" He asked as I stared at the drawn symbol, and I had to admit that it was uncanny; his own single eye, glowing faintly red, was so very reminiscent of that ancient symbol.

"The evil eye," I affirmed, and this seemed to amuse him greatly.

"Evil, evil," he chuckled, swinging his stick with glee, "what a wonderfully deceiving concept is evil. It is evil to call something evil, do you know that?"

Obviously I was sitting with a mad man. The revelation wasn't particularly surprising. "If I can't see the dead, then how is it that I could see that light in your lamp? Aren't ghosts merely souls?" I asked, wishing he'd stop that terrible giggling.

"Because the soul was mine, and I wanted you to see it. I needed to tell you something."

"And what was that?"

He struck the cages again, seeming to lose the train of our conversation. "The symbol of the single eye, the mind's eye – the Fifth Element – has long been a herald of sorcery. Then the Interlopers took it as their own, and we who fought them called it… evil. The Sheikah wear the eye as it weeps…" His eye wandered over the fire and me and then back to his empty cages. I wondered what he saw in there.

"The symbol of the eye has sometimes been used in opposition to superstitious idea, to portray particularly advanced technology; like in the case of the Sky Beings. Their symbol is the single eye," I added, merely to keep him talking. The thought of being alone with this person enveloped in silence was unbearable. "I've studied ancient symbolism. Was that all that you wanted to tell me?"

He didn't answer, merely stared at me with a sudden intensity. He pulled up the hood of his cloak abruptly to cover his face in darkness. The glittering red light of his remaining eye seemed to emanate from the blackness beneath the hood. "The Eleven in their sand-coloured robes came with their sorcery and tore the king from his throne… they took my eye and gave me their curse, and they laughed at my fascination." His grimness seemed to dissipate, and an insane, ironic smile spread across his thin lips. "I now laugh myself, sometimes."

"The Eleven… you mean the Lords from Luzmala," I confirmed, knitting my brow. Luzmala was a mysterious land from the far west, cradled in the inhospitable wasteland between two mountain ranges and two deserts. To the east and west were Snowpeak and the Snowhead respectively, and to the north and south were the Great Desert of Zunal and the Gerudo Desert.

Legend named Luzmala as the gateway of the dead. Ganondorf had employed the Luzmalan warlords in the final taking of the capitol with the promise of land in Hyrule, but turned his armies to hunt down and execute their eleven leaders when the task was accomplished – he obviously saw the famed assassins as a threat to him, especially since he had no intention of partitioning off the land that he had won. The Luzmalans were steeped in dark sorcery, including animal and human sacrifice; I was unsure what he meant by 'their curse', however. Looking at his single glinting eye, I couldn't help but remember Sahas showing me that long-ago ritual, and the King's knifepoint at the Hero of the Skies' eye…

"They cannot die, not really. There is a ritual… their souls are shut away and all that is left is intent within a shell – but it is something remaining, you see? Something here and earthbound and without end. They cannot stand the concept of an end."

I folded my arms. He was speaking of poes, but I had no reason to believe that they were real. However, given all that I had seen thus far, I also had no reason to believe that they were not. I had studied a text from the Shadow Temple not too long ago that spoke of a dark ritual intended to entrap the soul of a dying person so that they might continue as a poe, but it was named as a curse against enemies and not as a weapon against death itself. Yet the use, I reflected, made sense. What did not was…

"So if you are a poe," I said slowly, full of scepticism, "then why do you have a face and limbs? Poes are supposed to be composed of nothing but shadow."

"Oh, my soul was trapped you see, but… I'm not dead! Merely dying; slowly, slowly my lantern gets brighter and brighter…" the concept seemed to bring him glee, and he swung his stick against the cages with particular fervour. "Soon I shall not be able to hunt them on my own, soon will need others," he muttered to himself, and I understood suddenly his wilting face and shrunken bones. He would become nothing but shadow, but until then the flesh still cleaved to him like living moss on a dead tree.

"I am truly sorry," I said quietly, feeling great sympathy well up inside of me for the terrible end that this man would meet, however insanely glad he seemed in thinking of it. The creature turned his eye on me and spread his wide toothy grin; it glimmered white in the dark chasm beneath his hood.

"I believe you are, kitten, oh yes… even though this is what I always wanted:" He cackled, obviously delighted at my sudden show of emotion. "A world full of strife. But you aren't listening, no, you've been sitting there like a dumb animal… haven't you heard what I've told you?"

I raised my brows, tense. "Your history, the Luzmalans, y-your eye…" I stammered in confusion, unsure. His unearthly grin only answered me.

"See? Very stupid, you are. I said… that is, what I needed to tell you… You're going the wrong way! You must be travelling north."

I was certain that he hadn't told me anything about going any direction at all, but I let the insults slide off my back with a simple scowl. "North? But that would take me to Castle Town."

It was common knowledge that Castle Town was a ruinous place and treacherous, populated only by the redead, corpses cursed into animation. And anyway, Ganondorf had seized the castle and converted it to his trophy fortress. His base of operations was still officially in the Gerudo desert, but the castle was sure to be guarded. "I don't think that that path would be wise. And how should I know that you don't mean to mislead me? I aim to restore balance to this world full of strife," I responded carefully.

He leaned forward and clasped his hands around the centre of his thin staff, an air of import falling over his bent stature. "I once swore fealty to a King, and I always make good on my promises." He sat back and laid another whack across the cages. I didn't jump this time, so used to the sudden interlude had I become. "Two years ago, my King offered me a charge:" he continued, "to guide you when the time was right to the Temple of Time."

I stared at him in heart-wrenching disbelief. My shock completely overshadowed the revelation that yet another person had guessed my identity (if he'd guessed at all.) My father had perished at the Final Siege, executed three summers ago… not two. What he claimed was impossible. And yet…

"I see," I said through a tight throat, my hands clenching against the memory of his strong shoulders and the safety and strength they'd represented.

"Oh, don't worry, kitten," the cloaked stranger said comfortingly, still as grave as I'd yet seen him. "He isn't the type to stick around too long. He is quite wholesome and remains of his own free will."

I stared silently off into the night for several moments, willing myself to calm. It took all of my Sheikah training to remain still and relaxed despite the raging of my heart. Yet a strange strength rose up out of the gloom. I faced my odd companion once more with an expression of resolute serenity.

"Either way, the way is difficult and well-watched," I said, "especially for one such as myself."

"Perhaps this will even the odds," he said slyly, and extracted a crimson bundle of shimmering cloth from the folds of his cloak. I started at the similarity to Sheik's words on the eve of my flight from the valley, but pushed away my sudden remorse and leaned forward to retrieve the gift. It was silky but heavy and the colour of blood. Upon unfolding it, I saw that it was a cloak.

"I mean no offence, but… how should—?" I cut off as I looked up from the cloak in my hands and across the glowing coals to see nothing and no one, not a disfigured man or empty cage in sight. I turned to look over my shoulder and saw the strange lantern light bobbing along the hills of its own accord, followed if I listened very hard by a haunting whistled refrain and an occasional cackle.

It was difficult to fall sleep that night, but at least I had a warm fire and a destination. I curled up tightly in the red cloak for added warmth and when I finally did succumb to my exhaustion, I slept like the dead… or nearly.

I woke in the early hours of the morning to voices in my little camp.

The first thing that I heard was: "Left nothing. Not a scrap. Travellers are gettin' to be such stingy folks these days, and they never was before." An answering grunt from a companion followed.

I opened my eyes and sat up quickly, watching the intruders through narrowed eyes. Two men were picking about the camp. One was huge, bald and shirtless; blue tattoos snaked around his naked torso. The other, apparently the speaker, was young and skinny with a shock of messy red hair. Both were dirty and dressed in naught but rags, but they had the look of fighting men and wore daggers strapped to their belts. They had their backs to me and were treading the area around the long-faded fire, kicking uselessly at the soil to search for goods and warm to themselves against the morning chill.

They seemed to be ignoring me completely. Why was that? They had to have seen me. I was a mere few feet away and covered in a robe coloured red. I raised myself up slowly onto my heels, clasping the cloak at my breastbone. I did not yet know why, but the manner in which it was given suggested that this was a gift of some import; and thus I would take care around obvious thieves.

I drew my blade silently and stood. Should I try to run now, while they had not yet noticed me? They would surely detect me and follow, though I was certain that I could outrun them. The downside would be that, more than likely, they would follow me – and I was not to suffer a tail. Better to confront and temporarily incapacitate, I decided.

"You will find no valuables here, good sirs," I said, and the men whirled about to stare at… no… through me with wide eyes. They continued to turn circles, as if searching for me when I was right in front of them. I watched them in confusion.

"Did ya hear that?" Whispered the bigger of the two, drawing his dagger with deliberate slowness. The other was already crouched and ready, his eyes searching warily.

"Aye, but there's no hidin' to be found on this bare hill."

I laughed suddenly, completely thrilled to discover that, though I did not expect it, I was invisible. It had to be the cloak, I thought. And that indeed might even the odds in sneaking through watched territory, as the ghost hunter had said. The thieves jumped and continued to search about, becoming increasingly confused and superstitious, but I was already setting off northward with a bounce in my step. A good few hours of deep sleep had done me good, and so had the discovery of my newfound and highly useful ability.

As I left their bickering behind and took note of the small but definite drain on my energy, I resolved to find a safe place to remove the cloak and have a little bit of breakfast.

The outer wall of the city was visible many miles away, for the land was mostly flat but sloped very slightly downward to the north. The closer I journeyed, the murkier my view seemed; it was as if a great oppressive pall had fallen over the very air around the place and refused to lift. When I finally arrived at the northern drawbridge, I found it smashed in two and lying mostly in the waters of the moat. The darkness was almost tangible, though it was broad daylight. A cloud stood over the city, ominous and unmoving.

I slid down one side of the drawbridge and trudged through the water to climb the other side, wetting my skirts and cloak all the way up to my thighs. Righting myself at the top, I found myself staring into a bleak image of broken civilization: my heart sank. I lifted the hood of the cloak over my head and shaded my eyes, then took a deep breath and pressed on.

It took effort to recognize my home. A foul wind swept relentlessly through the streets, tearing at my clothes and hair and filling my head with its howl. It was warm and smelt of burnt hair and rotted flesh. The air seemed dense and dark, difficult to see through – or maybe my eyes just weren't working properly? The evil magic filling the place, radiating from all that it had touched, singed the hair on my bare arms and stung my eyes. Not a single living creature scurried or rushed out of my path; there was only bones and ruin.

The corpses that I did encounter were like some of those in the Shadow Temple: shrivelled and shrunken, but with flesh intact. It was dark and dry, tightened and draped over mere bones. Some had singed, wild tufts of hair still attached to their skulls; but the worst was the crusty, sunken remains of eyeballs slumped in their sockets. Bared teeth were parted to let escape a silent and eternal scream. Impa had told me of the ones in the catacombs, "The expression was not their last; the jaw drops naturally in death, and that is how they rot." I couldn't be so sure with these ones, but I imagined that the reasons for their unearthly preservation were the same. It was the magic, dark and hungry, that did something to effect the process of decay.

By some inscrutable instinct, I chose to keep to the bystreets and away from the soot-covered walls. Draped in the red cloak, I knew that on the very unlikely possibility that I should chance upon some living thing I would be completely invisible to them; but I was still, and I think understandably, on edge.

Using the cloak was an ever-present drain on my energy and concentration, and after an hour of making my way through the city, my eyes seemed to have darkened nearly to the point of blindness. Every moment that passed felt more like a delirious nightmare. I had long decided to resist the urge to try to recognize my surroundings and simply endeavoured to keep travelling north, toward the dark spires of a castle I couldn't imagine as the place where I had spent my childhood, when I at last passed through an archway leading into the main square of the marketplace.

It had once been a beautiful and shining place. I hadn't been so intimately acquainted with the rest of the city as I was with this square, with its glittering fountain and bustling crowds. To see it so desecrated and empty took my breath away. I took one step into the square and froze. Barely visible mounds riddled the cobbles ahead. By now, I recognized the coloration and look of them through the gloom: they were corpses. What gave me pause was their position. All were upright, though crouched; their black sockets and slack jaws were the same as the others, but their necks were stiff and did not allow the weight of their head to loll about on their shoulders. Elbows rested on knees.

I went slowly, unable to breathe in my fear and in the stench of the things. My footsteps were drowned by the howling of the unnatural wind. The upright corpses did not move, but I watched them suspiciously. I made my way toward the Temple with as much care as I could muster, holding the edges of the cloak to myself to keep them from blowing against the creatures. I was almost across the square when the wind, almost in an act of sentient mischief, ripped the cloak from my hands. In my desperation to catch the flying fabric, my hand shot out after it – and into the skull of one of the crouched corpses.

In horrified astonishment, I watched my hand pass through the skull and then withdraw from it as if it were only air. Another effect of the cloak, I realized. But the thing – a redead, as I had suspected – rolled back its skull until the ridges of its half-collapsed trachea pressed through the leathery skin. Out of its open mouth came a low groan of what seemed like agony, and I realized that it had been making that sound all along. They all had. I had put it down solely to the wind, but now that I knew… a cold chill rolled up my spine.

The redead rolled its head back down and let out a long, piercing scream that rammed through my head like a sharp blade. I felt my muscles seize and my head, I could have sworn, was splitting open. But I saw the thing rise, its bones creaking and snapping beneath the drum-tight skin, until it stood hunched over me, the black gaping holes of its eyes and mouth mere inches from my face. I waited frozen in abject horror, unable to turn away from that face, unable to take a breath even when the paralysis faded. If I did, I feared that I would faint from the smell. Moments that seemed like hours passed, and I couldn't help but stare at the crusted, shrivelled remains of its tongue lying dead inside its blackened mouth. It seemed not to see me. At long last it shrunk down into a crouch again, and its head dropped in a position of what could certainly be interpreted as misery.

I prayed to the goddesses then that they were not aware, that they were merely empty shells, puppets dancing on the strings of dark magic – but as the agonized groans once again rose in my ears, I doubted it, and my heart swelled with pity.

I hurried up the steps and into the wasted gardens of the Temple of Time, away from the miserable moaning, and finally jerked open one of the massive doors, slipping inside and closing it firmly behind me.

The change was immediate and overwhelming. Less light filtered through the high windows than I remembered and no priests or worshippers wandered in peaceful quietude, but the feeling of serenity and sanctuary that had always pervaded this place remained. The howling wind and the moaning of the creatures outside was entirely gone, and only a great echoing silence remained – in it, I could almost hear the sonorous chanting of the monks echoing forth from the past.

Comfort, cool and refreshing, washed over me. I still dared not remove the cloak, but I felt it now as a lighter burden than before. I felt that my decision to come here had not been unwise; it was the place where all had gone wrong, and I felt that it would be the place where things might begin to be set right.

At the far end of the great hall stood the altar, over which hovered the three spiritual stones. As I drew closer I noticed a high ringing, harmonic and lovely but just barely detectable. The three spun in unison, hanging of their own accord in the air. The stones glittered brightly in their golden settings, undeniably beautiful. Beyond lay the Door of Time… open.

I made my way around the altar and ascended the steps, passing through the doorway with a shiver of reverence. A path of pale light fell from the windows high above, lighting the empty pedestal where the Master Sword once rested. I knelt to run my fingertips over the smooth marble, and the thin slit from which the blade had been pulled free.

The stone prickled beneath my fingertips, and I drew back in cautious surprise. After a careful examination, I laid my hand upon it again. Blue light burst before my eyes, spreading about me in a circle rapidly like ripples in a pond. Cautiously, I removed my hand and stood back, one hand shielding my eyes as the light intensified and the other gripping my blade. Suddenly, a painful force ripped through me – it felt like in a single second, my entire body had been completely disassembled and then forced back together.

When the light cleared, I was kneeling and panting with the still-present pain. I looked up and around, distracted from the unpleasantness by the sheer beauty of the place: the Temple of Light. I'd been here in a dream, once; but what I remembered of it didn't hold a candle to the real thing. I stood upon a white marble platform, bathed in rippling blue and white light like that cast off of water. Beams of pale light that seemed to descend from absolute blackness, their source indiscernible, lighted six smaller platforms jutting up around the larger centre. That same blackness lay all around us, untouched by the bright light that lit the platforms.

"I hope that your ascendance was not too unpleasant, Your Highness," came a voice from the behind me.

I turned with a small smile. "Might I suggest… stairs?"

After a fleeting expression of surprise, the elderly man in elaborate robes standing opposite me laughed. "I shall consider your suggestion," he said good-naturedly, a smile apparent beneath the bushy white moustache. I recognized his presence from my dream, years ago, when the Triforce had split.

"Rauru," I said fondly, though we'd never even met. I'd heard about him plenty.

"Princess Zelda," He said, and bowed deeply. I blanched. It was the first time I'd been addressed that way for many years, and the name seemed to ring in the air, echoing between us.

"I was directed here by peculiar circumstances, but not offered a reason – I suppose that my reason was to seek your counsel."

He smiled beneath his white beard. "Indeed."

With a wide sweep of his arm he indicated the room where we stood. "The Chamber of Sages in the Light Temple. We are in the Sacred Realm," he said, and I smiled. I had gathered as much.

My eyes trailed the circle of Sages' Seals around me, all empty save the one on which Rauru stood.

I had only once seen all of the Sages gathered, and that had been but a brief glance: all of them grim men in long robes bearing the crests of their respective temples. Each and every one wore a ceremonial mask made of shining silver; I had quailed before such faces.

"If you intend to discuss the prophecy," I said sadly, "Then I have some bad news."

Rauru's bushy brows lifted in question, and I turned away and sighed. "The Sages are dead. Ganondorf hunted them down one by one. The last perished the spring before last."

When I looked back, Rauru's face was a picture of grim sympathy, but there was none of the dejection that I had expected at such news. The prophecy stated that the Hero of Time would save Hyrule from evil with the help of the Sages; with the Sages dead, the prophecy had been all but averted.

"I am sorry to hear it," he said, and held up a hand to halt my words of consolation, "Yet they were Sages by mortal inheritance only, and thus not those spoken of in prophecy."

I remained silent, and Rauru lowered his hand. How could this be? The Sages were highly honoured religious figures and were looked to for spiritual guidance by thousands. Yet they were… false? I voiced as much.

"No, not false. They were true Sages, but not the ones that we now require. In times of peace," Rauru went on, "Sages carry powers through a bloodline and are confirmed by the King, who takes on the title of the Seventh Sage and with it dominion over the others. They are well chosen and act with a holy purpose, but it is not the purpose decreed by the Goddesses for our time; that task falls to those Divinely Chosen, as the prophecy states."

I looked around again, and then threw wide my arms in a helpless gesture. Rauru laughed.

"They must be awakened as Sages, called from this very chamber by their leader, the Seventh Sage."

"He is clearly no longer the monarch, so where exactly might the Seventh Sage be found?" I asked, folding my arms over my chest and squaring my shoulders. I anticipated a quest in this; but how should I go about finding this great spiritual leader? With the prophecy still a viable source of hope, my determination flared with new strength.

Rauru smiled and shook his head, then seemed to parry my question. "There are four artefacts bound to the Sages: they are called the tools of fate. Two are the Instruments of Earth and Wind, one is the Lantern of Souls, and the other is the Dominion Rod. You know of them?"

The Instruments of Earth and Wind I knew of; they were stringed instruments imbued with the souls of the first attendants of the Master Sword and with the facility to hone its power. I had met the young Zora who played upon a harp in the Earth Temple, which was far removed from civilization; the only beings to be found there were the Sage, a few attendants and Ordonian goats. The other resided in the Wind Temple and I knew very little of them. The Wind Temple was located in the northern tail of Snowpeak, in the mountain heights beyond the Starpoint River. I had never been there and likely never would, but the Sage of Earth had told me that the Sage of Wind was a Kokiri. I had never understood why they seemed to have, by all accounts, switched places; the home of the Kokiri was far nearer to the Earth Temple, yet its Sage was traditionally Zora; and vice versa.

The Dominion Rod was a thick, ornate sceptre belonging to the Sage of Time. When my father was attending a ceremony in his religious capacity he always held the Rod. According to legend, the Skyfolk had gifted it to the royal family as a tool to maintain diplomatic communication between land and sky. If there had ever been communication (or Sky Beings at all; many argued that it was pure legend and no history) then it had long been severed.

Sahas strongly believed that the Oocca, as the sky beings were called, truly existed. He had told me once that they had angered the Gods with their arrogance and been punished. They had boasted that they were above all other creatures, for their technology was far advanced; and they became irreverent of the Gods, feeling that they were above the spiritual. So the Goddesses changed their bodies so that they had wings instead of arms and hands, and the Oocca – without thumbs or hands at all – could no longer build their great technology, and were proven as dependent upon the gifts of the Goddesses as any other creature roaming earth or sky.

The Lantern of Souls I knew little about. Indeed, now that I thought about it, my ignorance on the subject was suspicious given how thoroughly the Sheikah had seen to my education in all other matters. Sahas had touched briefly on the subject, saying only that it was a magical artefact belonging to the Sage of Spirit. With a clever glint in his eye, he had concluded the lesson with the suggestion that I might ask Impa about it. When I had, she had merely stared and me and then grunted and changed the subject. I'd been too engrossed in my training to give much thought to the Sheikah and their secrets (which were ever numerous) but now I felt that I should have pressed the issue.

"Tell me about the Lantern of Souls," I said, unable to help feeling left out of the loop… again.

"Ah," said Rauru with a smile, "We get right to the point. Stand back."

I backed up until I was standing just before the symbol of the Sage of Water. Rauru lifted his hand in a loose fist and I saw that his fingers shielded a bright light, as if he was holding onto it. Then he cast his handful into the centre of the platform and there, above the symbol of the Triforce, spiked pinpoints of light that rose and fell and began to form shapes. Quickly they took on colour, and then I was staring at Link sprawled out upon a low, round stone platform that I had seen before.

I realized that the table was the same one on which the Sheikah kept Link's body. Sahas' daughters had been tasked with his care, and it was on that table that they would give him sponge baths and clip his hair and nails; recently they had had to learn how to shave his face. I had little to do with the process and for the most part I stayed away from the dark room in which he was kept. If I ever caught a glimpse inside, he was covered with a linen sheet as if one of the dead.

But the Link that lay on the table in front of me was not our Link; he belonged to a different time. He was many years older, his ears were shorter and a bit curved, and the lines of his face were slightly less angular and severe. I knew what I was looking at, for I'd seen it before. When Sahas had shown me, it had been like looking down through a window upon the happenings. The figures had been smoky and small. This looked real.

I had to drag my eyes away from the Other Link. I stood in the Temple of Time, in the room containing the Pedestal of Time. The Pedestal wasn't there however, and neither was the raised platform on which it usually rested. Since the original owner of the Master Sword had not yet perished, I supposed that the Pedestal had not yet been created. The point of it, after all, was to allow the sword to choose a new master.

The whole place had an unpolished look about it. The floor was rough stone rather than the polished marble of our time, and it was dirty. There were no stained glass panels in the windows. The moonlight battled the flickering light from torches that had been set around the perimeter of the room – orange overlapped with blue and shadows danced. Every face was grim.

The Sages of Forest, Fire and Water that formed the outer triangle drawn on the floor moved their lips in what was clearly a chant, their brows drawn together in concentration, but I heard nothing. I could still hear the trickle of water from the Chamber of Sages. I took a moment to look into each of their faces, stopping between Rauru and the Sage of Shadow. They stared through me, eyes locked on each other. They couldn't see me – but of course they couldn't; I wasn't really there. And they weren't really here, either.

Rauru looked exactly the same as he did now, right down to the robes. The other Sages were not what I had come to think of Sages to be. They were not all tall, white-haired Hylian men in flowing robes like Rauru. The Sage of Shadow was a tall, imposing-looking man with a hawk-like stare that reminded me all too much of Link. He looked like one of the Gerudo with his red hair and dark skin – but his eyes were not the Gerudo amber. They were a clear, piercing blue. He wore strange, thick armour that left most of his arms, legs and midsection completely exposed.

As I watched, the Shadow Sage's piercing blue eyes flickered to King Ekbrit standing at Other Link's head and then back to Rauru. I saw moisture gather in his eyes, but his expression did not change. The affection that these men had for their Hero was truly touching.

I looked toward the King just in time to see him draw his dagger. He gripped Other Link's face in one hand, holding him steady, while he positioned the point of the dagger at the edge of his right eye. I had had nightmares about this moment for years since Sahas told me of the ritual, imagining the way the eye would pop from its socket; but I didn't look away now.

His fingers parted the lids so that the eye was wide and pressed so that it pressed out, red veins showing around the edges. The Hero didn't seem to notice; his pupils didn't even dilate. He continued to breathe shallowly, locked in the nightmare of some fever dream. I prayed that it was a better place to be than reality. The point pressed down and pried the eye up, scooping around behind it in order to sever the muscles that held it there. Blood gushed up, filling the socket and overflowing to pool about the King's hand, staining his fingers and then forming a river down Other Link's face. The Sage of Wind, barely more than a child, reached over to hold a cloth against his cheek and caught the stream of blood before it could flow any farther.

I was shocked to find that the sight did not nauseate me. I used to feel faint at the sight of blood, even when I scraped my knee playing; but it seemed that after years of training and fighting with the Sheikah I'd developed a much stronger stomach. All that I felt was overwhelming sadness.

The King lifted the eye away from the Hero's face and the Sage of Earth was there with another cloth to staunch the endless fountain of blood. Ekbrit lifted the eye in his palm, holding it high above Other Link's chest. Across from him, the Sage of Spirit seemed to wake from a deep meditation. When he opened his eyes, I saw that they were pure white – no iris, no pupil to be seen. He carried the lantern forward, beginning to chant along with the others – or it could have been different words, I couldn't tell. There was a change in the room. A great wind swept up from nowhere, swirling about their feet. It tore at their clothing and buffeted them about, but they stayed firm. The Sage of Wind stumbled against its power but managed to steady himself with great difficulty.

Something was happening to Rauru and the Sage of Shadow. As I watched, the Sage of Shadow shrivelled: his skin cleaved to his bones until it began to peel away, drifting around like so many pieces of ash. Rauru hung where he stood like a puppet with most of its strings detached. The light of consciousness was draining from his eyes.

With his free hand, the King lifted the dagger once more and plunged it into Other Link's heart. The eye that was still intact flew open, gazing directly at me. His mouth formed a word as he screamed; it was impossible not to recognise it. The Sage of Shadow's bones burst into dust and formed for a moment the image of an owl in flight. Rauru's last string was cut and he fell to the floor in a heap; out of his corpse raised a glistening smoke that formed into a running wolf. From the wound in the Hero's chest shone a green light that looked suspiciously like a large rabbit, but the eye remained trained on me.

I stumbled backward, away, my eyes wide with horror as he called again and again: Zelda… Zelda…

The owl of ash and the shining golden wolf raced forward into the green light and the whole room shook, knocking most of the Sages from their feet. The Sage of Time stood strong, holding aloft the eye as all – wind, light, owl, wolf – converged upon it and it lifted from his hand. It came to rest atop the Lantern of Souls, glowing with magic.

Even that eye seemed trained upon me.

Zelda…

"Princess!"

My foot went through the floor as if it were nothing. A hand shot out and grabbed onto my wrist, the vision of the ceremony dissipating. Rauru pulled me from the brink of the platform; I would have stepped right off if he hadn't stopped me. I steadied myself and looked down at his hand, for it was deathly cold; it looked like the hand of a corpse, dark and drawn. Rauru released my wrist with an apologetic smile and hid his hands once again in the sleeve of his robes.

"The rabbit, the owl," I queried breathlessly, "and the wolf?" I swallowed to wet my dry throat.

"They are merely representations of a person… their essence, you might say," said Rauru.

"The Blïndaté people of Snowpeak believe that every person has an animal totem." I said, shaking the vision of that horrible glowing eye from my consciousness. "I suppose they were right, then."

"Perhaps," he said, and then recoiled as I suddenly reached out and touched his face. He steadied, watching my face intently as I studied the effect. My hand felt his face, of course; but it was not the face that I saw. My hand appeared to pass beyond the flesh that I saw, beyond the hair, disappearing beneath its image; and what I felt was more cold skin and shrivelled musculature clinging to brittle bone.

"You manipulated the light to make me see that memory," I said softly. I cupped his gaunt cheek in my palm, my expression one of sympathy. "And you used that same magic to restore your appearance. You are… you are nothing but a corpse."

He smiled down at me sadly, tipping his cheek into my palm. "And a consciousness," he added, turning away from me to begin pacing.

"How can that be?" I asked. "You gave your life to create the Hero. You gave your soul."

Rauru nodded. "That I did – but a soul is not a consciousness, just as a body is not a soul. The memories and thoughts of a person do not make up their soul. A soul is something far more complicated, and quite different. A soul… a soul is more like a right to live. It is also a… a right to die."

The Sage of Light stopped his pacing and faced me once more, his shoulders hunched with a burden I couldn't hope to comprehend. "Kæpora and I sacrificed far more than our lives. He lost his body, his… vitality, but not his consciousness and not his soul. He was nothing but a wandering spirit for so very long, before a kindly fairy gave him another chance. I gave my soul and became nothing but a corpse with thought and the ghost of feeling. What happened to us was not natural death; we've been unable to die ever since, but we have also been unable to live."

"How terrible," I murmured, my chest tight with the compassion that I felt.

"It took me some time, but it is a fair price, truly – not just to counter what we were asking of the Goddesses, but what we were doing to Link. What we wanted was the assurance that the agents of evil could never ultimately prevail. We wanted to save lives. At first, one would think that we were sacrificing ourselves to give Link a gift – but had we merely died, we would never have understood the price that he had to pay as well. Immortality… it isn't as pleasant as so many think, especially when you must always live it in the heat of war."

I was silent for a long while, unable to push away the thought: I used him, too. And it was the reason for this whole mess. In loyalty to me, he had given up his childhood… he had given up life. I wished I could take it back. Oh, how I wished. "Why have you shown me this?" My voice broke.

"I have not meant to cause you pain, Your Highness. The Temple of Light remains the last stronghold against Ganondorf in the Sacred Realm; as well as the Chamber of Sages, it also contains the Hall of Prophecy. There is a prophecy which I believe concerns you and it may prove very important to our cause – if I am right, then it shall be very important for you to understand the true nature of the Hero."

"You aren't going to tell me what the prophecy says?" I asked, half-smiling. I'd spent enough time with the Sheikah to know when certain information was off-limits… for the time being.

Rauru shook his head, smiling apologetically. I nodded, reluctantly moving on to another topic.

"What happened to you… is that what happened to the creatures in Castle Town? The redeads?"

"Yes. Their souls were taken from them, just as mine was. I am, essentially, what you have called them: a redead."

"But they don't have voices – you do."

He lifted his eyebrows at me and smiled slyly, but then tilted his head as if hearing something. His brows drew down in sudden seriousness. "You've been here too long already. Do you know the Prelude of Light?"

"Of course," I said, unsure of how it was relevant. The Prelude of Light was a sacred hymn, one I often sang when attending Mass at the Temple.

"And of course you know the Nocturne of Shadow," he said, and I nodded. My time with the Sheikah had entailed time spent in meditation and prayer within the Shadow Temple. The Nocturne was, like the Prelude, a hymn. I began to get an inkling of what Rauru was trying to tell me. I remembered how Sheik had shielded me when we were attacked, and I had heard him play the Nocturne. Dampé had said that he'd found me near the royal tomb, which was quite close to the entrance to the Shadow Temple.

"Do the sacred hymns have a magical power with which I have hitherto been unfamiliar?"

"You are quite sharp, Your Majesty," Rauru said with a smile. "They do indeed. When played upon an instrument blessed by a Sage, they have the ability to magically and instantly transport the musician to the Temple of the hymn's respective Aspect."

"I have no instrument," I said, a memory of playing the Ocarina of Time in my favourite garden at the castle flashing through my mind.

"Even so, should the Hero awaken, he will have one. This knowledge may be of use to him. I know of a number of hymns, but I do not know the melodies well enough to teach them to you. If you can discover them, your knowledge may someday assist him." Rauru held up his sleeve-covered hand toward me. "Now hurry from this place; I fear that some of Ganondorf's agents may have the ability to sense when someone passes through the barrier between worlds."

I was enveloped once more in the blue light and felt myself falling, though I was still standing firmly. "Thank you," I shouted through the metallic-like ring that came with the rush of light. "And bless you!"

Rauru's image faded from my sight, and there was only a rush of blue. This time I was ready for the pain.