Get this: I'm not a particularly spectacular person. Not very outstanding. No magical bloodline or inheritance. I disowned my family entirely, and that's about the height of my exploits. I'm just some random guy living in random country in buck-nowhere Appalachia.

The height of my fashion on a good day is riding boots, jeans, and a flannel shirt. Maybe some earrings and my spiked choker if I'm feeling particularly snazzy. I've got a side-shave, long black hair, and a small collection of piercings. Septum and Snake Bites. That's about it.

At least, that's what I'll say about myself. You can ask my friends for a far more flattering and generous description of me.

I stick to myself, I care for my animals, my farm, and my friends. That's about it. I live alone. I guess I thought that was all I needed, disregarding all of the pangs of loneliness and feelings of discomfort, knowing I was lacking something but happy to be content with this form of life. I get by barely enough to keep my farm, anyways. I did inherit it, technically, but that came with its own stings and ties.

Wanna know the worst part about living in the Appalachians? We're culturally isolated. Sure, we'll get a taste of the big city culture… a year or more late. Everyone's old fashioned, but at the same time, very open-minded. You'll get your pockets of bigots living cooped up back in little tiny neighborhoods, with their republican party stickers and muffler-less trucks that give you a headache and an impression that the driver is overcompensating for something small, but they're tolerable, in a 'I'm-ignoring-you' way. But for the most part? A lot of folk around here are nice. They're accepting. At worst they'll just ignore you.

The cultural isolation is probably more of my opinion. I grew up in the city for the first chunk of my life. Of course, I visited family up here very regularly, but it wasn't living up here. Then I moved. Got a farm, worked jobs. But it's agony for me, going from having access to all of my favorite pop culture pleasures, to suddenly be devoid of all. Our mall is desolate. The parking lot sucks and floods during the spring season. Don't park your car there. We have one video game store there, and it can hardly even keep a good stock compared to its sibling chains down in the piedmont.

That's my problem. I love the Zelda franchise. Like, sell-my-soul for the merch love it. Like… dig in obscure places for hard to find merchandise I'll never be able to afford kind of love. Spirit Tracks was my first game. Four Swords was my first manga. I still had the books, worn from how much I carried them around as a kid and loved on them like a stuffed animal. It's a way of life. I play the games constantly when I'm not caring for my horses or playing with my dogs.

So you can understand, very much, how very upset I was when I realized I'd lost my copies of the Four Swords manga. And I still have no damn clue where they went. Stolen from my bag while I was in town? Maybe, But I don't see why someone would want to steal two worn old books. Number two, crime in town like, never happens. We're a sleepy little civilization. We had a stabbing a year ago and people still talk about it like it was yesterday. We don't get much trouble.

I tallied it up to me probably leaving them somewhere in public. As nice as this town is, I don't think there's a chance of me finding those books again. At least, not in good condition.

So with that in mind, I went looking for a replacement set.

Except finding mangas up here? Dude, that's a nightmare. We've got plenty of libraries, but they're all old, historical. Beautiful, but they have nothing I'd read. I entertained the thought of buying them online but… Amazon fucking sucks. No way was I shelling out cash to a murderous corporation built on draining the blood of their workers. Besides. Their shit is overpriced. I can find most of it elsewhere for half the price. Ebay was a consideration, but I'd just gotten duped by that site after ordering a bootleg plush- which never arrived, thanks. My trust was a little low.

So I decided 'Hey! What the hell. Let's make this an adventure.', and with that, set off researching libraries and bookstores around town and surrounding counties. I had a good list, but to my expectations… None of them carried remotely close to what I was looking for. Driving around was fun, though.

And then I stumbled into Ashe County. Nice little bookstore there- but it was filled with kitschy Harlequin Romance novels that I'd never even heard of before. That was a no-go. The bookstore was adorable, though, very sweet and felt like a piece of a dying culture that desperately needed to be preserved. The employees were mostly older people, who were the kindest beings I'd ever met.

That put me in a good mood, and dissolved my tired, resigned outlook. Maybe I could drive around some more. There had to be another around here somewhere.

And I found one. Well, I think I could call it a bookstore. It was out of the town, down the road a ways, tucked a little off the asphalt path. I barely missed it, had it not been for the small roadside sign pitched in the grass. Under the shade of massive rhododendron bushes, and countless evergreens, I snaked slowly down a gravel path. The sight was one out of a cautionary horror tale. Ok. Maybe that was a little mean. It was a small, old shack, maybe from the 1800's? It was leaning quite a bit, like most old houses left to the elements by their families around here. Surely this wasn't a very safe place to just set up a bookstore in. This had to violate some safety codes. It had a cute little porch with a rocking chair. But man, it entirely reeked of old Appalachia vibes. I was half expecting an old miner to come bursting from the doorframe, heartily greeting me with a smile full of bad teeth.

I think maybe I would have turned around, had I not been kinda worn out and desperate. This bookstore looked like it was on it's last leg, it couldn't have carried anything CLOSE to what I was looking for. I hadn't seen a mention of it online. Though, maybe some old history or record books of the Blue Ridge Mountains would be nice to take home… As I mulled it over in my jeep, my eyes landed on another little sign near the porch.

'FREE APPLE CIDER'

Oh, hell yeah. I'm going in.

The place smelled of must and warm cinnamon. And nobody was at the counter, though someone was humming from the back room. A radio played some country station on a low volume in the background, and a rickety old ceiling fan hummed and squeaked. Setting aside momentary doubt, I browsed.

And… well, to my surprise, the store was full of… very modern books. A lot of pop-culture, tv show, fandom-esque book spines lined the shelves. This almost felt bullshit. Maybe I'd taken a nap in my car and was dreaming this out of desperation. No way would some random shack I found on the roadside where there was horrible cell service have these kinds of books. There wasn't enough traffic for it!

"Oh! I'm so sorry, I didn't hear you come in!" A voice broke the ambience of the music and ceiling fan. I nearly jumped out of my skin like a frightened cat.

A sweet old man stood at the counter, in a blue flannel shirt and denim overalls. I grinned sheepishly, and waved, suddenly self-conscious about my appearance. It was instinctual for me to become self-aware in the presence of the elderly- though not scowled upon, some often teased me for my piercings or haircut. The old man just smiled serenely and continued.

"Find what you're lookin' for?"

I… frowned, and he must of knew immediately that it was a no. His face fell a bit. Oh great, this was like kicking a puppy.

"Hold on- I have more books in the back. I've been packing all morning." He piped up suddenly.

"Packing?" I finally spoke.

"Yeah, I'm retiring. It's about time I shut down this old store and take a well-deserved vacation. This store's just been a hobby for me, but customers have been trickling. I've got a cabin I just bought in Linville and I'm planning some nice time off there." He rambled, as he lead me into the back. It was the kind of conversation that put me right at ease.

"Well, I hope it's a good retirement." I replied, albeit awkwardly. The man laughed.

"Here, take a look at these. I've had some of them for ten years now, left over from when they were all the rage. It's all Japanese stuff I think.. Uhh… mangas, right? Or was it anime."

"Mangas." I confirmed quietly.

"Yeah! Is that more of what you're looking for?"

"...Actually… yeah."

I spent some time digging through the boxes as non-destructively as possible. There were a lot of familiar titles. My heart even lifted in hope when I stumbled upon a few Zelda mangas, but alas… I already had all of these. No Four Swords in sight. I leaned back in defeat.

"What were you looking for?" The man, picking up on my disappointment, questioned.

"You have some of the Zelda mangas here but… well, I lost both copies of my Four Swords mangas. They had a lot of sentimental value and… well, I was looking for a replacement-"

"Oh! Oh, wait just a second!" He cut me off before I could finish.

Turning, he pulled a boxcutter from his desk and tore open a taped cardboard box.

"I visited Japan several years ago- with my family, and while I was there, I had decided to stock up on a few titles in case they were hard to aquire in the US- I'm so glad I did- here, is this it?" He was placing a small, polished wooden box in my hands with a simple, gold-painted metal details.

Well, it sure did have the triforce on the front. I looked hesitant.

"Oh, you can open it! The actual book is still sealed in plastic wrap." He he sat back, looking at me expectantly.

Book? That sounded like there was only one… Slowly, I unlatched the box and peered inside-

Legendary edition. It was the fucking legendary edition, in full color. I think I was about to have a heart attack.

"Y...yEAh, this is the- the one." My voice cracked horribly. Holy shit. Holy shit!

"Oh , thank goodness! I was starting to worry that you'd be leaving disappointed." He sounded relieved. "I can ring you up at the front, come on."

I sat in the car for a good few minutes, staring at the box now sitting in the passenger seat, apple cider in one hand.

It was mine, for only 20$. I was still processing it.

I practically sped home, eager to read it from the comfort of my own bed. It was late by the time I arrived in my gravel driveway, grateful that I had the idea to leave the porch lights on. It was dark, and my dogs were going insane from inside the house. Probably scolding me for being gone for so long without taking them this time. I smiled, doggedly, and bustled my way into the house, the comforting and familiar smell of pine, cedar, and an air freshener greeting me.

Ok, so taking the additional time to feed my horses and dogs, plus the cats, and small assortment of pigeons actually took me until 10:35 pm. It was late.

Finally, I was settling into bed, television on, wearing a funky cowboy t-shirt and black briefs. I cracked open the box, and carefully pulled the book out to examine by lamplight. Oh, it was beautiful. I slowly peeled the plastic off, careful not to bend the book much.

It was so pretty in color. Childhood came back in full force, nearly bringing me to nostalgic tears of joy. I sighed, softly, taking in the familiar renderings of each of the Links, as well as my most beloved, Shadow Link. Ok, so maybe I was like, mega edgy in middle school. I still wear black. That's more than half of my wardrobe on a neutral day, when I wasn't in red flannel. Cliche, I know, but I resonated with the dark anti-hero.

I yawned, tears pricking at my eyes as I started to realize how tired I was. Out of the corner of my eye, something moved. I paused, heart jumping a little. Ok. I'm being stupid here, it was probably one of my cats, snuck in and hiding out in the darkest shadows of my room to wait until I was fast asleep to ambush me.

I returned my gaze to the book in silence. The lamplight flickered. I frowned in frustration.

"Salem, stop fucking with the lamp." I called, instinctively, pinning the blame on my most beloved, and mischievous cat.

There was no reply. No meow. I sighed, rolling my eyes.

Just as my eyes hit the page I saw something unexplainable. Shadow Link was definitely making eye contact with me. No, I shit you not. That was not supposed to look like that. So of course my heart jolts again, violently, as if I'm dying, and if you think that's already weird enough? Convenient timing fucks me over even more. The power goes out.

Now, the power often goes out in the area when there's a storm. High winds in the mountains knocks over trees or branches and Blue Ridge electric co. is shit at being efficient. It happens. But this was a late spring-early summer night. There wasn't a storm on the forecast all week. Had I blown the power out by leaving something running? I hoped the fuck not. Getting to the breaker was a pain in the ass and a maze of dogs I had to climb over to avoid stepping on. I got up, grunting uncomfortably. I'd entirely forgotten about what I'd just seen on the book page at that point, so preoccupied with coming to terms with the fact that I might have to call and yell at the power company.

So I make my way out of the bedroom and downstairs, into the kitchen, scrambling blindly for a flashlight. Finally locating one, I have to now navigate to the breaker. Nearly stepping on two of my rottweiler's tails, I crab-shuffle up to the panel in the laundry room and fiddle with it, clutching the light in my teeth like a desperate maniac.

And then I heard it. Holy fucking shit, I heard it. A loud thud, from upstairs, and several voices yelling at each other. Then what sounded like a scuffle.

Oh my god. I was being robbed. These assholes cut the power to break in. I reached for my- OH, MY GOD. MY PHONE. IT WAS STILL ON MY BED.

Well, the dogs heard it too, because suddenly all eight of them were up and thundering up the staircase, barking like a herd of demons. All went quiet up above as they scrambled to my room.

Nobody was gonna fuck with four Rottweilers, two Coonhounds, a Doberman, and a Chihuahua. I hoped. Nonetheless, I scrambled after them, anxious now at the thought of one of my little guys getting hurt.

The door was shut. I had not left it shut. The dogs were going batshit, scratching at the door and howling. There were definitely a few people on the other side, I could hear, but it was still pitch black, with the power out. The voices sounded frantic.

"Wanna explain why you're in my house? Yo! Open the fucking door!" I grabbed the handle and twisted it, and to my surprise, it wasn't locked. Someone, or several someones, however, were throwing their weight against the other side.

"If you don't open this damn door, I'll force it open and let my dogs take care of you instead of the police! How about that?!" I bellowed, trying my best to sound intimidating.

"-Open the door! He sounds mad!" Someone on the other side cried, sounding as if they were close to tears. Someone else snapped at them, though I couldn't make out the conversation.

"DO I NEED TO COUNT TO TEN." I slammed my fist on my door.

"Count all you'd like! We're not letting you in!" A gruff, yet young voice snapped.

"Blue! You're not helping!" Someone else reprimanded the speaker.

"ONE!"

The door flew open. I was met with darkness. I fumbled with my flashlight, then dropped it, as all of my dogs bolted past my legs.

"OY! HEEL!" I cried, half expecting to hear a fight break out between man and dog. The dogs stopped.

Amidst the illuminated paws on the wooden floor, I could make out boots. 5 pairs of them, to be exact. I think. I swallowed. That was… a lot of people.

Suddenly, per convenient timing, the lights came back on. The house flickered to life with warm yellow. The TV started up again, some sitcom playing in the background. And me? I was standing in my doorframe, all of the words in my throat dried entirely up.

For there were five, identical, same-faced boys dressed like a pride parade standing in my bedroom, looking just as frightened as I was.