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Chapter Text

Link watches as the beast made of malice roars for one last time, its serpentine body exploding like a corrupted flare.

It’s finally over. He’s done it. Hyrule is safe once more.

Link falls through the air, pink glide suit catching on the wind. The hero waits for the light dragon—for Zelda— to retrieve him and bring him to safety, letting out a celebratory wooowhooup! as the final chunks of gloom-filled flesh burn up in the morning sun. The Hylian feels complete, fighting with Zelda by his side again, slaying beasts larger than his mortal body.

“Take that, Dra gan !” He shouts, lungs filled with gleeful laughter as he plummets down. “Not so tough now!” Link takes it all in, the rising sun, the wind rushing past him, the adrenaline high as the light dragon dives down to catch him.

He can’t wait to tell Sidon all about this. To tell the sages and Purah all about this, to tell… to tell Zelda.

The thought of her face is sobering.

Now what? Link thinks as the light dragon matches his speed, radiant eye staring into his soul, everything about it so... wrong . How can I bring my Zel back?

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It’s been months since the defeat of Ganondorf, and Link is getting restless. He’d prayed to Hylia, but the only response he ever got was that he must be patient.

As if I’m ever patient.

Purah is equally restless to have her lab buddy back. She spent months researching ways to bring Zelda back, but in the end, she wasn’t able to find even one reference to draconic-fication in what remained of Hyrule Castle’s records.

It seemed like they were forced to wait.

Purah spends her days trying to finish what she and Zelda started a month before the upheaval. Link had been kept in the dark about what it was, but apparently Zelda had wanted to make something for him.

It was finished only two months after shelving the de-draconicfying project, a feat likely achieved by many late nights spent at the lab instead of wondering about how long will we have to wait—

The hero spends his days clearing monster camps along the main road, work undone every time the moon glows red.

The good news is that the blood moons have been getting less and less frequent, the last one occurring almost five months ago. Only the depths still have lynels left now.

The bad news is that this means fewer monsters for Link to distract himself with.

He’d found the last shrine last month—a stupid blessing, really, Raru —and had switched to experimenting with Zoni devices more. He tried helping the Zoni Researchers study the contraptions, but apparently, actual experiments require rigorous procedures that must account for all variables and—

Well, he had gotten bored again fairly quickly.

Right now, Link is catching Zelda up about what she’s missed this past month, the hero lying atop the Light Dragon’s fluffy hair as he recounts the latest Purah sighting.

“I swear, her hair was in a worse state than mine!” Link exclaims. “Anyway, she dragged me into the lab, yoinked your Pad directly from my belt, plugged it into some kind of apparatus, and had me wait outside!” He throws his hands into the air, head turned to the side, towards her ears, as he speaks.

“After what must’ve been a solid five hours —five hours without the Pad, stuck waiting outside because I can’t teleport and you know how she gets about wandering off before she’s done with you—she bursts open the door and yeets a new Pad directly at my face!”

He continues waving his hands, one slapping his forehead in a recreation of the event. “I had a bruise for a week! It was worth it, though, to have the old Sheikah runes back.” He unclips the new Pad, one bearing resemblance to his old Slate, and holds it up.

“Thanks, by the way. I really missed having access to limitless bombs.” The hero’s smile falls, hands following. “We all really miss you, Zel. I know that ‘The Light and Time Dragon’ is still needed for something, but Hylia’s being a little slow on the delivery.” Link chuckles.

Suddenly, someone speaks to him in a voice that sounds like the Goddess’s.

“You have been patient, Wild one.” The words are not heard, but rather form in the hero’s head. “It is time you set off on your next journey.”

Wait, right now? Link thinks, scrolling through his Pad’s storage. Can’t I restock first?

“I’m afraid not, little one. But don’t worry, you will have time later to fill your Slate.”

The hero disappears, his body dissolving into light as the sun sets.

—<<<<<^^^^^>>>>><<<<<^^^^^>>>>>—

…

<-<-<-<-<->->->->->

A wolf runs through the woods, his strong legs burning from exhaustion. The air carries the rancid smell of monsters, the scent getting stronger as he nears the town. He prays that he’ll make it in time, before anyone falls, before the children get taken, before he never sees them again.

Please , Link begs to all the gods that will listen, please let me see them one last time. He reaches the familiar trail leading up to his old home, hoofprints in the mud. Strangely, they are hooves of a horse, and not a split-toe like a bullbo. Link can’t decide if that’s a good thing or not. On one hand, that means that the Bulblin King is upholding their tentative peace. On the other hand, he’s never faced an enemy that rode a horse before, at least not as a wolf. He has no time to ponder it further, though, as he races past the treehouse—his former home, a place that hasn’t felt like home in a while—towards his peaceful hometown, the closest to it he’s been since that fateful day over a year ago.

Every time he’d tried to enter as a wolf, Rusl chased him away—the man who became his father, who raised him as his own, now treating him like he was some sort of rabid animal. Last time he tried, he didn’t even make it to the village proper before Rusl noticed him. That was two weeks ago. Link hasn't tried since.

But now’s not the time for doubts, not when lives are at stake. His fear of rejection can wait until his family is safe.

He can see the gates now, the hinges hanging on to splintered wood.

He’s too late.

Quickening his pace, pushing his screaming muscles as far as they would go, the wolf emerges from the forest path and bursts onto the scene awaiting him.

<-<-<-<-<->->->->->

The Hero of the Wilds reforms on top of an odd, natural stone pillar in a village he has never seen before. People wearing odd clothes go about their day, carrying wood inside, fishing in the nearby pond, and chatting with one another. One young woman—dressed in a white, sleeveless tunic with orange pants—notices his sudden appearance and visibly does a double-take as Link gives her an awkward wave. She approaches him cautiously and shouts something in a language he’s never heard before.

“I don’t understand,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Do you know Hylian?” The woman frowns and says something while pointing to one of the houses along the river, right next to a pumpkin patch.

I thought only Kakariko and Hateno had pumpkins? Link wonders idly. Wait, not the point.

He tilts his head, motioning towards the building. “Do you want me to go there?” He doesn’t understand her response, but assumes that her pointing again means yes. He jumps off the strange formation, startling the poor villager, who stares at his right hand—Rauru’s hand. Ignoring her surprise, Link sets off towards the house, taking a moment to collect his thoughts on the way.

Did Hylia really just throw me into a random village? He steps onto the wooden bridge spanning the river. Everything here is so… peaceful. What here warrants a hero? He’s so caught up in his thoughts that he fails to notice the sound of hoofbeats approaching in the distance. Will something here help Zel—

The gates of the village burst open, the sound of wood splintering breaking the calm. The villagers run into the nearest homes, curiosity about the newcomer forgotten as they shift their focus onto the threat. Link turns around as a strange, electric blue Lynel charges directly at him.

Well, that answers that question, he thinks as he dives off the bridge to avoid being trampled. Link dashes out of the water on the other side as the Lynel skids across the hoed ground of the pumpkin patch on the other side of the bridge, uprooting a pumpkin plant. Reaching behind his back, his hand closes on thin air where the Master Sword should be . Hylia’s damned—

He pulls out his Purah pad, remembering that he broke almost every other weapon he had wiping out the Gleeok population. The only things left were a decayed knight’s broadsword and a pristine giant boomerang that he found in the depths.

This is gonna be an interesting fight.

The hero takes a moment to examine his opponent: a bright blue monster, probably a Lynel, but with a slightly more humanoid torso, somewhat scrawny (for a Lynel), back-facing horns, and dual-wielding broadswords. No bow. That’s a relief. He can try to snipe it from a rooftop, and it won’t be able to do anything about it. Link starts towards the nearest building to do just that when the Lynel swings its swords in his general direction, a good twenty feet away from the Hylian.

Normally, this would have no effect.

Normally, a Lynel’s ranged attacks are well telegraphed before they happen.

But this, as Link finds out, is no normal Lynel.

Two short energy beams fly out from the beast’s swords, catching the hero off guard as they tear through the grass. The beams woosh overhead and slam into the opposite riverbank as he manages to duck out of the way in the nick of time.

That rules out sniping.

Link pulls out his broadsword and runs diagonally towards the beast, ducking under beam after beam before getting close enough for it to switch to regular attacks. The Lynel sweeps low with both its swords, Link backflipping over the attack. Time slows down as the hero rushes in, dealing blow after blow with his only sword…

Which he neglected to fuse anything to. Just great .

He ends his flurry rush with his sword shattering into a million pieces, then backing away. This time, he remembers to pull out something to fuse with his remaining weapon, but gets interrupted by yet another pair of beams aiming to separate his head from the rest of him. The blue Lizalfos horn is sent flying, lodging itself in a house a few yards away. Crap.

Link rolls under the next set of beams and has just enough time to pull out his giant boomerang before sidestepping even more sword beams.

They really do look like swords… Huh.

He quickly fuses the horn to his weapon, and—after two more beams—throws his only weapon at the blue beast. The great boomerang slices through the Lynel’s blue skin with ease, the blades leaving two gaping wounds where they pass. The monster staggers, momentarily stunned. Link seizes the opportunity to jump onto its back, pulling out—

The hero realizes that he’s made a grave miscalculation when no weapon materializes from the Pad.

The strange Lynel is not pleased by the development and tries to buck Link off. Link, being the master animal-rider that he is, stubbornly refuses to fall off. The giant boomerang swishes past the two as they fight, Link’s only weapon splashing into the river and silently sinking to the bottom. The beast switches tactics, reversing its grip on one of its swords and instead tries to stab the hero, who in turn responds by grabbing the lynal’s arm, tightening his legs around the beast’s body, and attempting to pry the sword out from its grasp.

Beast and man, locked in a battle of raw strength.

…

On the other side of the river, up the trail, a wolf emerges from the shadows.

Chapter Text

The wolf doesn’t know what to make of the scene in front of him. The first thing he notices after his eyes adjust is the relative lack of damage. Besides the busted gate, the only damage seems to be some slightly scorched, upturned patches of dirt around the Mayor’s house and a trampled pumpkin patch.

Thank Ordona.

The second thing the wolf notices is a pink and blue blur on said pumpkin patch. The smaller pink figure was sitting on top of a blue— is that a lynel l ?! The Hero of Twilight quickly breaks back into a sprint, muscles burning as he runs over the bridge, the chain on his shackle hitting the wooden structure on every step.

He takes no time to consider how a lynal ended up in his hometown, let alone his Kingdom.

The wolf pauses in the middle of the bridge to examine his opponents. The blue lynel is much scrawnier than ones he knows, with pale skin where the horse fur ends, and two back-facing black horns. The pink figure seems to be a Hylian in a bird-like outfit, with a cape, tail, and a mask that looks like an owl. He has a long mane of untamed hair, the frizzy mess coming all the way down past his  shoulders. The Hylian is wrestling the lynel with dedicated vigor, fighting to steal one of its two swords.

He reminds Link of someone, someone who was wild enough to mount a lynel. At least this beast looks weaker than the ones he’s dealt with before.

Shaking off that thought, the wolf leaps towards the fight, aiming to bite the beast’s legs. Before he can get there, the monster twists its body and desperately tries to hit the Hylian with its other sword. Surprisingly, the Hylian man manages to pry the sword out of the lynal’s hand before leaping off the beast’s back and into the air.

Link watches in shock as the man pulls out a bow from thin air– No , from a magic slate , and fires off an arrow at the monster’s shocked face. It lands, and whatever was on the arrowhead bursts into flames. Wasting no more time, the wolf quickly bounds towards the monster, who was busy trying to put out the fire that had engulfed its face, and chomps down on its front leg, crushing the limb with a sickening crunch. The lynal lets out a ferocious, pained roar and yanks the limb away from the war dog, swiping at him with its remaining sword. The wolf manages to jump away just in time, causing the blade to hit solid ground.

While Link continues his assault on the outraged beast, the Hylian races to the water, his right hand glowing as seafoam green strands of energy reach out and clasp onto the forgotten boomerang. Link looks back at the Hylian and watches as he performs some kind of telekinetic magic on an abnormally large, sharpened metal boomerang—a style of boomerang that Link knows all too well, albeit one side is strangely different. Instead of the usual metal outline with the inner curve sharpened and the outer one rounded off and turned into a red handle, one side has what looks to be some kind of strange gray sabor blade (the material unknown), reinforced at the base–where it connects to the crescent-shaped center portion of the weapon–with a crude metal ring.

The wolf’s stormy blue eyes lock onto the cyan-gray ones of the mask, the two men frozen as they stare back at each other.

Something about the man feels… familiar.

But Link has a lynal to fight. No time to wonder what this could all mean. No time to hope for family, no time to wish for belonging, no time to ponder misunderstandings, no way to return home.

The lynal takes advantage of the two’s brief moment of distraction to make a run for it, holding up its broken leg as it bounds back over the bridge. The Hylian dressed in pink grabs his boomerang, which dissolves into blue strings of magic—magic so, so similar to—

The wolf shakes his head, ridding his mind of those thoughts.

The lynal. Focus on the lynal. The beast was almost to the gate now. It looks back, its inhuman face sneering in disgust at the Hylian man—who seems to be a sorcerer, if that magic arm is any indication. Not something that happens in just two weeks. Link dashes towards the beast, hoping to finish it off now before it can come back later. He’s on its tail in an instant. The monster is much slower now, what with one of its front legs—the ones that have to bear the most weight—rendered useless. A lynal’s weakness, as he had figured out with his—

A hoof to the face sends him tumbling to the ground, vision blurring, a ringing sound echoing in his ears.

The world fades to black.

<-<-<-<-<->->->->->

Link recognizes the wolf. He remembers him from over a decade ago, back when the hero had been new to the world, when he first made it off the Great Plateau. The wolf was there to greet him, with the same blue earrings, the same strange stone hair band, and the same scar from the time he had saved Link from a silver lynel.

This is the same wolf who taught him how to survive, who encouraged him to talk to people, and stayed by his side for a whole year. The one he named “Wolf Link,” as the beast’s eyes reflected his own soul, and he didn’t know many names other than his own. The one who understood.

The wolf that wasn’t allowed into Kakariko. The friend who disappeared when Link came back from his talk with Impa, soul already heavy enough with the knowledge she had shared, of what he must do. His past failure and future destiny dragged on his heart, but the wolf, his only companion, his steady stone in the uncertain riptides, wasn’t there to comfort him.

The wolf tracks stopped in the middle of some mud, as if he had simply vanished.

The lost teen had only stopped his search when he heard of the impending disaster at Zora’s domain.

Link watches as his old friend— are we still friends? —chases the lynal, who was already up the path (When did that happen?). The wolf’s strong legs carry him up the slope, his gray body only a blur.

Snapping out of his stupor, Link springs into action, sheathing his boomerang as he sprints up the slope and joins the hunt. He makes it just in time to see the lynal rear up, sword pointed down at the wolf under him.

Link grabs his great boomerang and throws it as hard as his muscles will allow, a desperate plea sent to the Goddess. The arc of the great weapon’s path intersects the short sword, catching it between the boomerang’s handle and blade, tearing it from the beast’s grasp and slicing the monster’s stomach open, purple blood spilling out.

The beast falls, its malice-filled body dissolving into the air. Link pays it no mind as he rushes to the fallen form of his old companion, thoughts racing as he lays his hand on the warm fur of his friend. Wolf-Link flinches, eyes opening as he bolts upright, legs unsteady beneath him. The wolf’s eyes dart around, unfocused pupils unseeing as the great beast tries to make sense of his surroundings.

Probable concussion, Link’s mind supplies. Wasn’t out for long, but needs either rest or a powerful elixir. He coaxes the wolf to lie down as Link runs through the familiar routine of on-the-spot brewing, body moving without him needing to think. A useful trait on the field, when thinking wastes time, and every second counts in matters of life-or-death.

He whips out a Zoni pot, turns it on and pours water into it. While waiting for it to boil, he scoops up the strange-looking lynal guts, horn, and hoof, throwing them into his Pad for safekeeping. The place where the Lynel fell was strangely coated in some ash, and the beast’s fiery orange guts had a strange dryness to them. Wolf-Link whines, eyes finally focusing, watching the hero closely as if not fully recognizing him (he’s changed a lot since then: more memories, more experiences, an entirely new arm, and magic). Link turns towards his friend and checks him over once more.

Cut on side of head, likely caused by a hoof. He feels the wolf’s body, searching for any wounds potentially hidden by the thick fur. Body thinner than I remember… forgot about that shackle. Was it always this rusted? From what he now knows of wolves (courtesy of Zelda), his friend appears to still be a young adult. Link doesn’t know what to make of that, but the water should be the right temperature now, and he has an elixir to brew.

The cook turns to his pot, pulling out a blue lizard and—after a moment of deliberation—some moblin guts.

Then he gets to work.

Chapter Text

The potion tastes of lizards and monster guts, both sensations Link is all too aware of. He can feel the concoction do its job, the ache in his head and temples slowly subsiding. The morning sun paints the small clearing with strands of light, and Link closes his eyes to listen to the forest of his childhood. He pretends for a moment that he’s truly back home, introducing his companion, the boy he watched grow up for a second time, to his family. Hearing the children laugh as the wild one shares stories of Link’s time as a wolf, the embarrassment welcome, for with it comes the warmth of family.

He opens his eyes, and—

Oh. He… isn’t hallucinating, is he?

The Hylian has a blast scar peeking from under his outfit, creeping up his neck. It’s an exact match to his friend whom he left just two weeks ago.

Is that really his companion? His baby brother? (When did he start thinking of him as family? Was it when the other first brewed a potion just for him, or when he jumped in front of that spider-pot’s beam? Or was it when they locked eyes for the first time, their spirits resonating, as if recognizing a fellow lost soul?)

The wolf sniffs the Hylian’s hand, the scent different, yet the same. Changed. Like coming back to your favorite spot in the woods after years, only to find out that a fire burned down most of the trees long ago, with new growth emerging from the ashes.

Sensing Link’s uncertainty, the Hylian unclasps his mask, revealing two eyes the same color as the sky.

The wild one laughs as recognition fills the wolf’s face, tail thumping against the dirt behind him. The laugh is odd, different from the unrestrained cackling of what it was before, yet it still has that undertone of wilderness.

This man right here is his brother, the one he thought he’d never see again, the one who accepted him as a wolf, looking past the ferocious exterior to the gentle Hylian trapped within.

He’s lunging towards his friend before he even realizes what he’s doing.

Cursed Dog Brain… He thinks as he slobbers over the kid’s– man’s –face, tail wagging as the man wraps his arms around the wolf. The wild one starts cackling, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiles with his whole being.

Link’s home.

As home as a wolf like him can be, at least.

The two brothers continue embracing, though the wolf stops licking the older one—he seems to be older than Link now, which is a change the wolf isn’t prepared for. He’s supposed to be the wise older child, thank you very much. The formerly younger one wipes the dog slobber off his face as Link processes this new development.

Suddenly, he hears someone shout behind him.

“Get off of him!” It’s Rusl's voice. Link turns around to see the man who raised him point a sword at Link, the Ordonian’s face contorted in an ugly sneer with pure hatred directed towards the wolf. Link jumps back, instinctively whimpering as he cowers away, tail tucked and ears pinned.

Rusl advances, pitchfork readied as he speaks to Link’s companion.

“Come here, that wolf is trouble.”

The wild one looks confused, not understanding the words the Ordonian speaks. Noticing the raised blade, his brother jumps into action, getting between Link and his father. His companion tries speaking to Rusl—likely in an attempt to calm him down—but neither Link nor his father can understand the language he speaks. The only word Link picks up is wait, having heard it so many times when his brother would enter the strange blue and orange structures.

His father stares at the wild one, likely taking in his strange outfit and—was that a new arm?

Wait, how did that even happen?! Link thinks, and he remembers what he saw earlier, when his brother’s arm was glowing seafoam green. There’s a story there, one he could never hope to understand.

“Why are you protecting that wolf?” The sound of Rusl’s voice snaps him from his thoughts. Link takes another step back. His poor brother flinches at the angry tone, desperation on his face as he tries to calm the villager down.

It isn’t working.

“Thanks for driving away that strange monster, but you haff ta get away from that wolf. It’s already killed my boy—I know you can’t understand me, but…” Rusl tries gesturing to the wolf again, hand sweeping in an effort to get his point across.

The beast whimpers, taking another step back, away from the village.

Link should leave. The wolf has overstayed his welcome.

The hero runs off into the forest, the rusted chains of his shackle whipping at his feet.

He’ll never be welcomed back into the village.

Not with how he is now.

<-<-<-<-<->->->->->

Link stands between the villager and his wolf. His companion from all those years ago, who stood in the face of charging lynals to save the one he loved, reduced to a whimpering dog.

“This is just a misunderstanding.” His words fall on deaf ears, the language barrier stopping any possibility of understanding. “He’s basically just a large dog.” He points to his friend, trying to get the man to see the cowering wolf in a new light.

He might’ve been able to convince him if it weren't for the obvious language barrier between them.

The man is speaking now, saying words Link doesn’t understand, and occasionally shouting at the wolf. Link almost misses the sound of paws on dirt, the man’s shouting drowning out the soft noise. It is only when the clinking of the shackle behind him begins to fade that he realizes what is happening.

Pivoting, Link sees his old friend, a friend he just reunited with, a friend who's taken on a Guardian and won, sprinting away from one scared villager. Link runs after the wolf, ignoring the continued shouting of the man behind him as he chases after his brother.

I am not losing you. Not again.

Chapter Text

The Hero of Twilight runs until he can’t anymore, legs giving out on him as he makes it to the open Hyrule field. He lays there for a bit, tired and dazed, his heartbeat loud in his ears. After a while, he drags himself up a hill (that used to be a cliff face years ago) and lies down in the hollow of a tree root, eyes closing as his exhaustion catches up to him. He drifts off into a dreamless sleep.

<-<-<-<-<->->->->->

Link’s companion disappears behind some trees not long after Link starts chasing him, but the heavy pawprints left in the soft soil of the forest expose his friend’s path.

Why did he run off like that? The hero wonders. He looked so… scared. What about that man made him cower?

The wolf was no stranger to people trying to scare him off—the Rito and Shikah especially wouldn’t let him into their villages. Was it because the man was Hylian? But Wolf-Link was never scared of him nor travellers, at most a little wary of new faces, but never…

Was it even simple fear? Link wasn’t an expert on wolf-dog body language, but he was the closest to one that exists, and even he wasn’t sure what his old companion was feeling. It… almost looked like longing. The hero ponders this as he follows the trail left by the massive wolf.

It doesn’t take long for the hero to track down Wolf-Link, the sun still high in the sky— wasn’t it close to sunset earlier? —as he spots his friend taking a nap underneath a large tree. Link approaches slowly, taking the time to scuff his feet loudly against the rocky slope to alert his sleeping friend of his incoming presence. Strangely, Wolf-Link doesn’t so much as twitch when he makes it up the hill, nor when he squats down next to him. The wolf only notices his presence when Link gently tickles his ear, his friend awakening with a jolt, before relaxing at the sight of Link.

“Hey there,” He whispers, running his hand across the wolf’s slightly mossy mane. “Are you ok now?”

His friend wines. He gets up and circles around Link, moving him towards the large tree’s roots.

“Is it time for a nap?” Link asks as he and his friend sit down, his companion curled around Link’s back in the hollow of the tree’s roots. Wolf-Link lets out a yawn and rests his head on his companion’s lap. Link chuckles at the sight.

“I’ve missed ya, buddy,” He says as he scratches behind the wolf’s ear, careful to not disturb his companion’s earrings. “There’s so much to catch you up on. It’s been… what, over a decade since I last saw you?”

Wolf-Link’s ears perk up as he speaks, though whether he can understand the words or not is unclear. Not that that’s ever stopped Link from rambling to him before.

“Well, I guess the best place to start would be with what Impa told me…”

<-<-<-<-<->->->->->

The wolf dozed off for a second time that day, still exhausted. He listens to his companion blabber on, mind picking up on occasional words and phrases, but the majority of it serves as a comforting background noise.

…

Next thing he knows, it’s mid-afternoon, and his friend is calling his name. Link tilts his head and stares at him, trying to parse out what his friend is saying. He points to him and says two words. He recognizes “Wooflik,” the name his friend calls him, as the first one. But the other one, the one sounding like “Loof,” is new. His friend keeps repeating it alongside his nickname and pointing at Link, something that reminds him of when his friend first taught him words in the other’s language. Link has no idea what to make of this new word, but from the inclusion of his name, he figures that it must be an adjective.

Is he saying I’m tired?

The wild one is now only saying “Loof,” and Link has no choice but to assume that that’s what it means. He’s too ‘ loof’ to ponder it further.

Eventually, his sword brother seems to notice the time. Tilting his head slightly, he takes out his slate— Is that an upgraded version? —and checks something on it, his eyebrows furrowing.

The Hylian stands up and turns around, looking out over the field. The steep cliffs, the coarse grass, and the warm, dark tint of Twilight still lingering on in the land. How different this cultivated kingdom is from his friend’s wild one, even here in the countryside.

<-<-<-<-<->->->->->

Link doesn’t know what to make of this new land. The air has no hint of malice nor gloom, but something dark lingers nevertheless. The vast field is less colorful, less vibrant than Hyrule’s, yet there’s a hint of warmth behind the dreariness. The land feels empty—no, lonely, in the same way a mountain top might. Trees shroud a large lake in the distance, the wooden bridge spanning across it barely visible from the top of the short cliff on which he stands.

Something about this place feels familiar, but Link can’t tell what.

On the other hand, the differences are obvious. The lack of ruins stands out to him. In Hyrule Field, a place as large as this would show signs of at least one town that once called the hills home. Here, the only signs of civilization are the beaten paths and the wooden bridge. Yet no wild horses roam the plains, and the signs of deer are few and far between—in their place are strange bipeds that remind him of ostriches, albeit without necks. The grass is sturdy and coarse, flowers nearly non-existent—though that could just be because of the season. Steep cliffs surround most of the field—some portions having recently crumbled, if the state of the rocks is to be believed. The whole area seems to have sunk at some point, as if the valley were a footprint.

The sun hangs low, its light glistening off the mass of water in the center of the sunken land. It looks like there’s a quarter of the day left.

Right, Link remembers, The time. He turns back to Wolf-Link—Lolf, now, as Zelda had suggested once after he told her about his old companion, and as Link was just telling the wolf. His friend has a knowing look in his eyes, and Link knows he noticed the hero spacing out. Link pats his friend’s head.

“Welp. We should probably look for a place to sleep.” Link says as he stretches, before descending the collapsed cliff face and starting along the path towards the lake. “I take it you don’t want to go back to that village?” He asks the wolf. Strangely, Lolf lowers his head and whines softly, looking away from Link and glancing back towards the forest.

“...Do you want to head back?” Link doesn’t know what to do if that’s the case. That villager wouldn’t allow it, and Link can’t even explain that Lolf’s tame.

The wolf keeps staring at the forest path, tail hanging low and ears back. 

He’s anxious. Link walks up to the wolf. “I know you’re scared, but… he won’t follow us.” Lolf turns around to look at him, and Link simply pats his head. “Come on, let’s go check out that lake before it gets dark.”

The wolf stares for a moment, before huffing and relaxing his posture. He knows they’re going to get distracted along the way, like they always do. The two friends head off towards the large lake, side by side as they walk out into the field.

…

“Hey,” Link turns to Lolf and holds up his right hand, floating runes glowing seafoam green wrapping around his arm. “Wanna see something cool?”

<-_-_-_-_-_-_-_->

Off in the distance, a flock of Kargaroks fly towards a purple portal forming above the lake. A blue and orange figure falls from the sky.

Chapter Text

He awakens to the sounds of battle. The shrill cries of monsters drowns out the crash of the waves, people shouting out orders that he can’t understand. His groggy mind takes a moment to process what on the waves is happening—

He jolts up, panic setting in. There shouldn't be this many monsters on an island, let alone Outset. Tetra was supposed to drive out the pludits—she did drive them out. Dread pools in his gut.

Aryll.

His sister is on the island, his grandma is here in the house. And there’s–

A sudden explosion jolts him into action. Hastily throwing on his gear, the teen runs out into the fray.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

One hour, two bosses, and one serving of bottled soup later, the island is almost clear of monsters. The odd soldiers—who came out of some weird floating walls of magic—had been a lifesaver in this nighttime battle. The teen might’ve been a hero, but even he and Tetra’s pirate crew wouldn’t have been able to take out the hundreds of monsters that had crowded the island. The man wearing what looked to be an armored version of the hero’s clothes was especially helpful, taking out some sort of revived version of the Helmaroc King (because it couldn’t have been the same one, the bird that stole his sister, the bird whose skull he crushed with his hammer—)

The teen starts heading towards the stranger as the soldiers pick off the remaining monsters, now only a cluster or two of bokobins and a handful of moblins left. He wants answers. He needs to find out where the monsters came from, where the soldiers came from, where a knight wearing the emblem of a sunken kingdom could have possibly come from.

Who are these people? Did they follow the monsters here, or did the monsters follow them? Are they gonna demand compensation? Pirates often did so. The teen’s mind buzzes with questions as he approaches the knight, gratefulness mixing with fear. I can’t stop them if—

His next step never touches the ground.

A purplish-black ooze encases the teen as he falls down, down, down into a sunlit sky. The sound of wingbeats hammers into his ears as a flock of something flies past him, the leathery wings slamming into his already sore muscles. He instinctively reaches for his Deku Leaf, desperately trying to hold it up as the creatures pass. The leaf catches the wind, growing in size as the air moves to slow his fall. The last of the flying things pass him, and he takes the time to look around. He notices a few trees and a bridge over a large lake down below, a vast, dull field surrounding the grove. Where’s the ocean? Suddenly, he feels a tingling sensation on his wrists. The teen panics as what little of his magic he has left drains into the leaf.

Should’ve cut back on the ice arrows… 

His magic gives out on him, the leaf losing its shape, leaving only the tough green veins behind. The hero plummets.

<-<-<-<-<->->->->->

“Isn’t this awesome!?” Link yells over the buzz of the Zoni wheels, the wind pulling his tangled hair back. Lolf’s mouth is wide open, tongue flapping in the chill air as the duo drive down the rolling hills. They were riding good ol’ Sledy, Link’s custom blueprint of choice for traversing great plains. The base is a sled with small Zoni wheels attached to either side and a sterling stick in the middle. He had added a stake to the rear to act as a backboard after Lolf fell off one too many times, his companion appreciating the new safety measure.

The hero glances back at said friend, the wolf’s mouth open as if to cool off his tongue on the chilling wind rushing past.

I’ll take that as a yes. Chuckling, Link turns his focus back to the path. They’re only a few minutes away from the lake now, the sun hardly any lower than it was back at the tree. The hero had (finally) changed out of his flight suit, swapping it out for the Zoni set so he could drive for longer. The Zoni’s refusal to make shirts leaves his chest exposed to the wind, and his legs not faring much better. His scars welcome the fresh air, the large one on his back tingling in the sunlight. Link knows his skin will be red from windburn when they eventually stop, but he finds that he doesn’t care.

There’s something about zooming through meadows at high speeds that will never get boring for him, and no amount of crashes could ruin the thrill.

As the duo reaches the first tree, a squarrrk rings out from up above. The sound of wingbeats draws Link’s attention away from the approaching bridge and into the sky, where a flock of what could only be some off-shoot of Aerocudas were flying overhead. The monsters were different from what Link had seen before, these ones looking like the unholy offspring of a haran and a keese, their leathery gray wings blotting out the soft blue of the sky.

It’s only Lolf’s bark that reminds him to break. He jerks the steering stick back, Zoni wheels skidding and tearing up the turf before bumping into the side post of the bridge. Lolf’s body slams into the back of Link’s legs, and the two crumple down. The duo untangle as fast as they can, both standing after only a few seconds. Taking a moment to situate himself, Link quickly steps off of the Zoni vehicle. There’s a lot of new creatures here…

Lolf barks again, the wolf pointing at something up above. Link turns around to see some purplish-black circle form in the sky ahead of them, akin to the portals Coldgara used. The swarm of monsters are headed straight towards it. The hero spots a speck of vibrant green amongst the dull gray mass of wings, like the first sapling emerging from the charred remains of a choked forest. Something bright orange and blue hangs below the green—which Link realizes is a deku leaf. Creative. I’ll have to try that out sometime. The flock dives up through the portal, unveiling the blob of color, revealing the figure to be that of a Hylian.

Did they make the portal? Link thinks, watching as dozens of wings swat the person as the beasts fly by. No, they seem… panicked, probably didn’t expect a sudden fall. The flock drains up through the portal as the figure slowly floats down on their leaf (seems slower than my paraglider) . Link briefly wonders where the Hylian came from, but a sudden scream pierces through his thoughts.

The figure’s deku leaf has lost its form, the vibrant lime gone. If he squints, Link can just make out the dark green veins left behind.

Veins that can’t catch the wind to slow their descent.

Lolf bolts past Link as the Hylian plummets.

Chapter Text

Link has only a few seconds to react. He spends those moments sprinting towards the falling figure—now that he’s closer, he realizes it’s a young Hylian boy.

How can I break his fall? Link thinks, running through the list of options in his head. Zoni spring, mushrooms, bombs, Zoni Balloon—that could work, the hero decides. He quickly scrolls through the Zoni Devices on his Pad— come on come on, where is it? —and, in his panic, pulls out five. Link activates Ultrahand and grabs the nearest one, the seafoam green ribbons of magic runes binding the balloon to his hand. He manages to tilt the device on its side right before the boy enters his view. The hero pushes the balloon further away to intersect the kid’s path, at first overshooting his target. He quickly pulls it closer just as the kid falls onto the balloon’s bouncy fabric, sending the boy flying towards Link.

Uh oh–

The kid makes an eyyyip sound as he bounces off of the balloon, his sword flying out of its sheath and almost hitting Lolf a few yards away. Link echoes with his own (embarrassing) shout as the two tumble to the ground.

What is with me falling down today? The hero thinks as his back throbs. Am I just getting old? He doesn’t have time to linger on that frightening thought for long, though. The kid is already upright, amber eyes wide and mouth hanging open in an exaggerated display of shock. His face switches to confusion, no doubt looking over the hero’s clothing and strange arm.

It passes after only a second, a focused expression taking over his face. The white fabric of the balloons grow taut, one falling over as a strong breeze blows by, ruffling the child’s hair and momentarily revealing faint, jagged scars along his forehead. The boy squints, and Link realizes that the kid is trying to stare him down.

“Uh,” Link says as he sits up (the kid is as tall as I am, he realizes) . “Hi?”

What am I supposed to do in this situation? He still doesn’t fully remember his royal guard training, but even if he did, Link doubts that they would have prepared him for a child falling out of the sky.

The kid simply raises a brow at the hero’s plight, but there’s an anxious twitch to his mouth. Link notices the boy’s disheveled appearance, sand and dirt sticking to his clothing and hair as if he’d rolled around on a beach. Blood splatters litter his blue shirt—monster blood, if the deep purple color and how it starts dissolving in the afternoon light is any indication. The boy fidgets with a blue crystal pendant on his neck, the cord a sunny yellow. He seems to panic for a second. Still, he does not take his eyes off of the older man.

Link spots an empty yellow sheath and the blue rim of a shield on the kid’s back.

Those look high-quality, he notes. And considering the monster blood…

///

A child stands in the middle of a field, the blinding white fabric of the royal soldiers’ (or is it the royal guards’?) tents all around him contrast against the dark purple stains of his uniform. A yellow and purple sheath—that of a royal broadsword—rests on his back. The matching blade is nowhere to be found.

An important-looking soldier (knight? Royal guard?) is standing tall in front of the boy. The officer (trainer? General?) speaks to him, asking what happened. The child doesn’t know. All he remembers is losing his grip on the expensive hilt, and grabbing the nearest sharp object—half a Lizalfos spear—and continuing on.

He will not remember the lecture given to him that day—perhaps the adult is forgiving, perhaps they never were—but the message will be ingrained into his head eventually. He shouldn’t lose track of things so easily, he shouldn’t zone out during lessons, he can’t be forgetting things this often. Not as the hero of the nation.

He doesn’t know how to fix it. He’ll never be taught how. They don’t think they need to teach him something so simple.

The sword is found embedded into the dissolving corpse of a black Lizalfos, a beast infamous for dodging blows and shredding skin. The child has hardly a scratch on him.

The praise doesn’t stick.

///

Links blinks, and he’s back in his own body, a familiar aching tingle spreading across his back. The boy—tanner, taller, with eyes of amber sunrise—is waving a hand in front of the hero’s face, his brows furrowed in concern.

A deep red splotch of blood slowly oozes from a gash on the child’s leg. Link frowns, quickly pulling out his case of medical supplies from the Pad. The boy watches as ethereal blue strands emerge from the slate and form a dark wooden box, his eyes open so wide that Link fears he’ll have to wash a fly out of them. The hero chuckles at that thought.

“Here,” the hero says, opening the box. “Sit down and roll up your pant leg.” The kid only raises an eyebrow at his words.

“Your leg is hurt,” he tries instead. He doesn’t feel like explaining himself, not when there’s more pressing matters to address. The boy only tilts his head, more confusion seeping into his expression (he’s probably been confused this entire time).

Right, the hero thinks, different kingdom… Link realizes that he doesn’t know where he is, let alone where that portal led to. For all he knows, it could’ve led to the past! Just like Zel. But the portal was dark… The hero thinks about the differences between what he saw that day, the golden glow as his princess turned to light, and now. He wonders about this new land, so alien, yet containing a familiarity he can’t shake. …Was it me who time traveled?

Wait, wounded child, focus. He shakes his head and tries once more. “That,” Link says as he points at the wound, “needs to be treated.”

The injury looks more like a large scratch, based on the rate of bleeding. It doesn’t seem bad enough to justify stitches. However, even small wounds can get infected—Link learned that lesson eleven years ago, and he’d rather not leave the child to figure it out for himself if he can help it.

The hero beckons the boy over with his normal hand. “Come here and I can help you out.”

The kid continues to stare at him, though this time with suspicion in his eyes. After a moment, he pulls out a pouch and checks its contents. Apparently satisfied with what’s inside, he shoves it back into the red and white bag on his lower back, and starts rolling up his pant leg.

Shrugging it off, Link gets to work.

<-<-<-<-<->->->->->

Just when he thinks nothing could top the absurdity of his last adventure, a new thing comes along to prove him wrong.

I guess life still has more surprises in store for me. He idly wonders if he’ll be sailing on land by his 18th birthday. Honestly, that’d be less surprising then whatever this is.

The “this” in question is the strange human (?) that is currently treating his wound. The teen knows how to do it himself—one doesn’t save the ocean (twice, he did it twice ) without knowing how to prevent infection, after all.

The odd ball had some sort of magic, monstrous arm, for crying out loud. He had frozen up earlier, staring off into the distance for six minutes and 13 seconds. During that time, the Hero of Winds had stared off into the distance with him, having nothing better to do than wait for an update on the situation back home. (Why hasn’t Tetra called me—)

—

Tall cliffs surrounded a sea of grass, towering mountains reached out towards the sky beyond them. The mouth of a huge grove of trees sat at the top of the slope, the gaping maw promised adventure and treasure if only he dared to enter.

The view reminded him of Hyrule.

Is… is this what the Old Kingdom was like? He didn’t like that thought, but the similarities were striking. Maybe this is another world? That seemed to be reasonable. Maybe this is a world where Hyrule was never founded, or one which was never flooded. The mountains reached higher than he remembered—so maybe this is the past? Before the Wind and rain wore down the land.

(One minute)

But these ones seem smoother… how would a mountain grow? He vaguely recalled a tidbit the King of Red Lions told him, about how land was made when molten rock from the depths of the world spewed forth, cooling in the chilly sea and forming bits of land. The teen figured a similar process must’ve occurred, considering the gray of the rock matches that of pumice.

( Two minutes. Is he ok?)

When he scanned his immediate surroundings, he found the strange man and a bunch of slightly less strange objects. They seemed to be massive paper lanterns, except with (incredibly bouncy) fabric in the place of paper. A little ways off, a wide lake sat in the middle of the field, a wooden bridge spanning over it. An odd blue-green… thing sat abandoned at one end.

When the third minute passed with no movement, the hero snapped out of his shock. The stranger had yet to move a muscle.

That can’t be good. The Hero of Winds snapped his fingers in front of the person’s face.

No reaction.

“Hellooooo?” Still nothing.

He tried lighting shaking the guy’s shoulders, but all he received was a blank stare.

It was then that the teen noticed the stranger’s eyes glowing an eerie blue.

When the sixth minute passed, he reverted to waving his hand in front of the man’s face.

He didn’t think it really helped. The guy had snapped out of it on his own, and had insisted on treating the teen’s wound. The teen had checked his wallet to see if he had the rupees for treatment. He had a fair amount, and besides, it might make the guy feel better. It couldn’t hurt.

—

Back in the present, the hero watches as the shaman (or is he a mage?) brings out a small flask of what is most likely disinfectant. The teen anxiously fidgets with his belt buckle as the man opens the flask, the scent of some kind of unknown alcohol filling the air.

Smells like a strong one, the teen thinks. The concoction has an odd herbal twinge to its smell, one that he has never smelt before. It’s almost sweet.

Granted, most of the plants around him now are near unrecognizable. He’s no botanist, but he’s pretty sure this environment is nothing like anything he’s seen before.

Except Hyrule, he realizes. He doesn’t like the implications of that.

The sting of alcohol on an open wound draws his attention back to the present. The teen lets out a quiet hiss at the mild pain, somehow worse than the stuff he normally uses. The man stares at the teen’s face, seemingly looking for something (now thinking about it, he looks like a retired warrior—old and covered in scars).

The young hero fidgets with his gossip stone as the stranger applies some strange, opaque yellow goo. The teen has been anxiously waiting for a response since he landed on the ground.

I hope everything turned out ok back home…

<-<-<-<-<->->->->->

Tetra was going to strangle that boy with his own sunny scarf for leaving her to deal with this mess.

Chapter Text

A person is falling out of the sky.

Link thought today couldn’t get any stranger—first the Lynel, then his brother, now this. His current situation is truly the cherry on top.

The wolf runs towards the falling figure, his friend right behind him. Link hears him fiddle with his slate, though the wolf is focused on the person–the child– in the air.

Could my brother use his arm thingy-ma-bobber? Link thinks. I might need to act as a pile of hay… no matter how much it would hurt, he couldn’t let this kid die on him.

Strands of Sheikah-blue form a row of teal orbs in front of the wolf. Link yelps and takes a step back as the light green orbs burst open, strange, bulbous devices expanding out of them. His brother’s strange new arm sends out a teal-and-green ribbon of magic to grab one of them.

The child lands on one of the bulbs, bouncing off and hurling towards his friend.

That’s… certainly one way to do it. Link shouldn't be surprised at this point. He’s about to rush up to them when he spots a silver gleam in the corner of his eye. He jumps to the side without thinking as the sword flies past him (holy–). The blade buries itself into the soft soil, hilt sticking up from where his head used to be.

That was far too close for comfort.

A sudden gust knocks down the bulb closest to him, blocking his view of the two Hylians.

The wolf takes a moment to breathe before examining the odd sword. The afternoon sunlight glistens off of the strange yellow hourglass embedded into the hilt, the deep blue contrasting its bright glass. The scent of powerful magic hints at it being a relic of some kind, reminding the hero of the Master Sword. The wolf looks back at his friend and the stranger, the two having gotten up in the time it took him to investigate the blade. What in the name of Ordona is a kid doing with a sword like this?!

Link peaks around the massive bulbs and spots the child staring down Link’s brother, the kid clearly wary of the strange man dressed in who-knows-what.

As bad of an impression his friend is making, the wolf knows he’d only make things worse.

He slips away before the kid can notice him, circling around the trees and hiding under the bridge. The wolf crouches down in the damp soil, ears perked up as he listens to what is happening.

His brother has gone silent.

Link worries for him; he’s seen his friend freeze up too many times before, in the middle of conversations even, staring off into the distance with eyes glazed over. Sometimes, he comes to with a small smile. Other times…

Should I check up on him? Link doesn’t know.

He doesn't know if he’ll scare away the kid, he doesn’t know for sure if that is what’s happening. He doesn’t know his brother anymore, not after the other has changed so much (how long has it been for him? Certainly longer than two weeks). He doesn't know if his friend truly remembers him, if he truly still knows all the things they did for each other, all of his quirks and mannerisms (He was never the best at that, remembering details). He doesn’t know if the man still understands the wolf, still understands Link (if he ever did, ever could). He doesn’t know if anyone could understand him again.

Link buries his snout into his paws.

He doesn’t understand anyone else, either. He doesn’t understand why everyone hates Ordon catfish. He doesn’t understand why the bug girl isn’t afraid of the wolf. He doesn’t understand why Gor Coron took over a year to tell the chief the truth. He doesn’t understand why Midna left the way she did. He doesn’t know all the reasons she had (was it just about the mirror, or was it about me?). He doesn’t know what she truly thought about him, doesn’t know why (or how) she was close to Zelda, doesn't know what her life was like before Zant, he just doesn’t know–doesn’t know–I don’t know—

The wolf whines.

Why are people so complicated…

Link is brought out of his thoughts when he notices a sparkle through his paws. Lifting his head up, the hero is blinded by the gleam of gold in the sunlight. A dot of red peeks out from behind the bright glare, its gaze scrutinizing his every move.

The golden wolf.

The older hero—the gilded ghost that taught Link all that he knows of sword fighting—stares at the younger wolf, single blood red eye piercing into his mind.

<-<-<-<-<->->->->->

It doesn’t take long for the Champion to clean the wound.

The kid is still staring at him.

Link has gotten used to that kind of puzzled attention, both his choice of clothing and his alien arm draw a lot of eyes towards him. It is only now that he realizes that he never changed out of the Zoni outfit.

On second thought, the kid is handling this well. Link figures that the boy must be used to strange things.

The hero unclips his pad and scrolls through his options of clothing.

Too cold, too heavy, not good for travel, too intimidating, he thinks as he sees his wide array of outfits, many of which are situational at best. Nope, nope, nope… oh. Link pauses when he sees the Champion’s leathers. He remembers seeing Zelda attempting to sneak past him, a bundle of fabric and some blue flowers in her hands, her golden hair a mess. He brushed it off at the time, too focused on writing down a list of materials he needed to collect.

Link picks out the Champion’s leathers, Hylian trousers, and Rito headdress from his Pad. He pays no mind to the many strands of magic that curl around him as his clothes get replaced and hair put up. Instead, the Champion quickly packs up his med kit.

The kid seems to have accepted the hero’s strangeness, only quirking an eyebrow at Link’s Pad.

I wonder how he’s gonna react to Lolf? Speaking of the wolf, it seems to Link that his companion has hidden away.

The hero doesn’t remember if this was- is common for the wolf. Link doesn’t remember all of his friend’s quirks, didn’t even remember the shade of blue the wolf’s eyes were until he saw him again. He forgot about the shackle, forgot about the way Lolf’s white fur appears to swoop around his shoulder blades.

Link has forgotten so much—

The champion takes a deep breath. All he needs to do is whistle for Lolf to be at his side again. It will be alright.

He hears the kid say something, a sentence spoken in some foreign language. He turns around.

The child looks concerned. Link reaches up to ruffle the kid’s hair (why am I so short), the young one staring at him incredulously, as if Link just insulted the kid’s mom. The hero chuckles at the display.

Hope he likes dogs. Link takes a deep breath, and lets out an ear-piercing whistle.

Fwee-oo-eeeet

He waits.

No response.

He tries again, the sharp noise echoing across the valley.

No deep howl echoes back. Link spins around, scanning the valley for any trace of his companion. Every bolder gives him false hope.

He remembers this same scenario happening twelve years prior, after he finished his talk with Impa—

No, the hero thinks. Not again.

Link takes a moment to consider where Lolf might run off to. Somewhere hidden… the hero thinks, like under the bridge. The wolf had always liked watching the fish.

The champion darts off towards the lake, ignoring the confused sputters of the child that he left behind. Faces of the people of the past flash through his mind—Daruk, Revali, Urbosa, Mipha, countless nameless soldiers, and the unnerving, soulless eyes of the Light Dragon when he first saw it. The ghosts.

Not again.

<-<-<-<-<->->->->->

“You’ve been met with a terrible fate, haven’t you?” The ghost’s voice echoes in Link’s mind.

He thought he would never see the elder wolf again. He thought the hero prior to him was satisfied that Link was strong enough, good enough to bear the title  of Hero, that he had nothing left to learn, that Hyrule would be safe in his hands.

I don’t have hands any more, the wolf thinks. Perhaps that is why the shade has returned. Or maybe he never left. Not like I did.

The gilded beast looks down upon the wolf, as if silently criticizing his pathetic display. Link tilts his head to ask Why are you here? He attempts to school his expression as to not show any sign of cowardliness, but he hasn’t had much practice doing so as a wolf.

“Because the hero is said to be missing. And it seems that I still have more to teach,” the dead hero respondes.

He’s mad, isn’t he? Link assumes. All he can manage to do is whimper some more, his ears pressed flat and chin flat on the ground.

“You must keep your head held high,” (well I already failed that…) “or else the great evils of the world will pounce.” The shade’s voice echoes in Link’s head, the lesson sinking into his mind. Confidence is key, his mind supplies, put on a brave face in times of turmoil. I can’t let my family down.

The gilded ghost watches the hero slowly get up. Link’s tail betrays his anxiety, but the wolf stands tall nonetheless. He stares back at the shade. No matter how much it makes his insides crawl—no matter how much it makes his mind scream—he refuses to look away from that blood-red eye.

He will not give up.

“I knew you were tougher than that,” the golden shade praises. “It seems to me that you ought to learn a new technique.”

Link flicks his ears in interest, tilting his head right after as if to ask What do you have in store?

“You will see in due time,” the elder hero says while bending his legs slightly.

The last thing Link hears is the sound of a distinctive whistle before the golden ghost lunges at him.