It had progressed far past a simple nagging feeling, like rats gnawing upon ones toes. So, not a night went by, where he didn't see those old, sad eyes staring back at him accusingly. The old man deserved what he got. That was my birthright. He rationalized to himself, and yet that ugly, hateful pit in his stomach would not disappear. Uther tossed fitfully in his beat, cold sweat peeling from his body like steam on cold metal. He cried out in pain, as if that phantom dagger in his dream weren't plunging into his father, but into him, and he snapped awake. He bolted upright, his eyes wide and full of madness. He looked about, recognizing none of his surroundings, an indeterminant blur that was impossible to identify. Among it all, a single figure, and a table. Some modicum of realization registered behind those veiled eyes of his, and he stood up, approaching her cautiously. "You!" He pointed at her accusingly. "I've heard of you." He let out a laugh that exposed his instability. "Maybe this is the solution. You can fix this, right? I can offer you something, and you can take it from me, right?" He said insistently, hungrily. His chest vibrated again with another chill laugh. "Then I'll give you everything else. Here, take it, take it all!" He dumped a sack of rupees out onto the table, fifty five of the gems in all. "My magic, too! And, last but not least, all memory I have of my family." He greedily snatched at the dice, rolling them before the entity could even voice a reply. (Uther offers all 55 of his rupees, all of his treasures, and all memory related to his family)
A tiny unseen eyebrow raised with suspicion. An elderly woman's voice came from behind the man, as if disembodied, "Desperation is an ugly color." The cast dice bounced oddly high off the desk. By the time they landed, there were inexplicably three. The first quickly fell flat, its surface bearing a green shape obviously meant to represent a rupee. The second bounced once, before landing with a symbol that most resembled the face of the clock. The third die, however, landed upon one corner, spinning much like a top. As the die spun, a small girl's voice faced Uther. "I have no use nor any desire for your memory. It has hardly something anyone would call a treasure." There came a slight giggle of amusement, "I can however do you the small 'favor' of era--" --What what was she just saying? As Uther stared at an unseen face, his head ached wildly. How did he get here? Where was he? Who--no, he was Uther, or so he thought, but why did he call himself that? His mind felt full of holes, for reasons he couldn't even begin to comprehend. Nonetheless, he remembered handing over 55 rupees to this strange girl. Wasn't there something else? Recoiling in confusion, Uther watched as the last die fell over to a black face he could've sworn wasn't there before. The moment the die clacked climactically on the table, a defeaning boom roared out from it--and the Hylian found himself shoved, twisted, and heaved into the gaping hole that was the black face of the tiny die. Abyss. Black. Falling, falling... writhing... screaming... Even as he screamed, a calm voice pierced through his face to speak to the face underneath. It seemed... mildly annoyed. "Fix your own mistakes." Gradually the color surrounding him grew to a burgundy, then a crimson, a deep red, and then a dark orange, and finally a pale yellow. He must have been falling for a full minute before his eyes beheld something far below--something he would no doubt strike with lethal force. Was that. The color turned from yellow to a shade of green. No, it couldn't be. It was a single green rupee, far below. And Uther's body slammed into it so hard the rupee tore clean through his chest, through his heart, and out of his spine, leaving a huge trail of crimson behind him. His scream of agony was hoarse, eyes bulging as his entire body shook with shock and pain. Eyes closed. Darkness ensued. ... ... In the midst of a forest, a man awoke. He clutched his aching chest, a black scar covering his heart. It ached like an old wound, one he must have gotten years ago. How... how did he get it. What... was his name again? Was it... Ether? No, it was Kaiden... No, it must have been... Sethra? No... No... Such... confusion... words could not even describe... this. His shaking hands felt underneath him, and there like a mountain of leaves was so many little green gems. Should he care to meticulously count every single one, he wound find exactly 110 green ones... and a single black rupee, stained as if by the darkest of fluids.
