Just moving this over from the other forum is all. Anyways, Rated R for strong language and some gore. But not bad gore. Anyways, here is my pseudo LoZ Fan-Fic thing... Chapter 4 is on its way. ---- [big]1[/big] Why am I here? No answer, only silence as the crowds continued to undulate like a giant, mechanical serpent. Cobblestone road, giant clock tower, glaring moon in the sky. All familiar, like old friends of the past. But like any memory, blurred, distorted, never exactly as you remember it. What the hell is this? Illusory dust clogged the lung, thrown into the air by thousands of shuffling feet. Circles turned over again, the people moving in the same, cyclic paths. I glanced down at my hands, seeing that they were not my own, yet I still knew every wrinkle and crease as if they had always been there. They were weathered and calloused from use and countless adventures. Like my hands, foreign memories, etched into my soul, surfaced and I wondered to myself why I had not remembered before. How could I have forgotten the grasp of darkness, the flicker of new hope, and the return of the light? Yet, something seemed wrong; everything was mechanical. Scripted. Time's flow turned to quicksand. The resounding boom of baritone bells as the clock struck noon, then silence; all movement stopped as the world stood upon a precipice. It began as a low hum, nothing more. Slowly the sound became all consuming, destroying all thought in a landslide of cacophony. Darkness spread first from the clock tower, its piscene tendrils strangling all color, all life. Fear gripped me, but I could not move; my feet felt weighed down by iron, immeasurably heavy. As the darkness overtook me, I heard but one voice, one dying flame of hope and light. “Return to this land once again, Hero of Time...” -- --------- Water sprayed my face, jolting my eyes open. It was that damn dream again, growing more and more malignant every day. “Need to lay off the pills...” I griped. Still, despite this revelation, I still reached for my cabinet with shaky hands. Orange bottles vomited their contents into my hand, a few pills dropping to the floor. Nothing to be done. I was exhausted and looked it; my skin sagged in all the wrong places, and despite repeated water shock therapy, my skin remained pallid. Then again, I always looked the same. I had a harder time getting up every morning, my loathing of the coming day making me queasy. Still, there was work to be done, things to do. The door slammed with aplomb just as I had placed a couple of eggs into the frying pan. Nearly dropping its contents all over myself, the entire building shaking with the closing of the door, I looked angrily towards the hallway. Sure, I was great in the afternoon. But I was cranky as a bear just emerging from hibernation in the morning. Trespassers beware. “Dammit, Shaw, didn't I tell you not to slam that door? I swear, if I didn't have a pan of scalding oil in my hands...” Hah. I was a positive ray of sunshine this morning. Still, half of it was bluster more than anything. Appearances had to be kept, of course. “Don't get your thong all in a bunch, Chapel. You let it get to tight, and you'll have a one way ticket to being a woman.” Snarky bastard. Thought he was hilarious. If he weren't my neighbor, I'd just as soon toss him out the window. That's the worst part when it comes to communal living; you get annoying pricks like him that you are forced to see everyday. After the housing market crashed back when, America's recovery has been slow in the coming. Hence, people sought other ways to cut down on costs. No wonder I was in such a foul mood in the morning. “You check the news out? Some serious shit's been going down today. Like, serious shit storm. I can't even describe.” He yelled over the kitchen counter, making his way towards the couch and television remote. Click. Pop! “Look, I don't have time for your crap toda--” I had turned around, pan in left hand, to look at the screen. Even though he annoyed me to no end, it actually sounded important this time. But, as hard as I tried, I could think of nothing important that was supposed to happen today. No press conference from the President, no major bills in Congress. My thought train was cut short by the blaring sound of the TV. “ Earlier this morning, a seven forty seven plane made an emergency landing in a field in Bauxite, Arkansas. Reports say that the pilot of the plane had a seizure soon after lift-off. However, the co-pilot was able to safely land the plane in the field. Unfortunately, the pilot has fallen into a coma—the cause is still unknown, though drug abuse is suspected. Luckily, there were no other injuries.” This was why I hated the news. So god damn depressing. Overdosing pilots? I'm not stepping on a plane, if the captain can't even keep his own hands and legs inside the damn vehicle. Still, not exactly the direst of situations. Hell, this seemed like the usual kind of things to be on the news. I told Shaw so. He guffawed. “You really believed what they said? I mean, about that fuckin' drug overdose bullshit? Man, grow up. It's just a cover up. Some kind of conspiracy theory shit going on here.” Mental note: never voice my thoughts when Shaw is around. I'll lose brain cells. Shaking my head, I plated my eggs and tore into them with a fork. Between bites, I looked at the television, but it seemed that there wasn't anything else that was interesting. “Is that seriously it? When you came in here, freaking out, I'd thought the anti-Christ had been born, that the Soviet Union had been resurrected, and that Nazi zombies were on the loose. But no. Just some airplane landing.” I finished my quick breakfast and threw my plate into the sink. “Whatever. I'm leaving. Try not to burn down the place.” I said angrily, walking over to the closet and grabbing a coat. The leaves had started turning crimson, meaning that cold and snow was probably fast approaching. Like I said, the economy is still recovering. You can take a bus almost anywhere now, and get there reasonably quickly too. Forcing through the amoeba of human flesh, I situated myself into a pocket of space. It felt that I was stepping off the bus just as quickly as I had gotten on, though I had been on it for at least an hour. Routine really is the biggest time killer. The office was chaotic as usual, diagrams and drawing splayed across a table, arranged to some mad scientist's formula. I walked over to my cubicle, only to find that my cubicle neighbor had returned the painstakingly jello-encased stapler gift I had sent him. Attached to it was a note. I don't even get it. As much as I insist, he refuses to be my Dwight- no one gets my obscure tv show references anymore. Still, I had nothing better to do in this crypt of a career. All the hacks got stuck in technical services; here, we were mostly left alone, helping the occasional idiot over the phone for Silicon Industries' digital empire. Silicon Industries practically owns virtual reality—you got an idea for new, more efficient data-to-brain streaming software? Silicon Industries already owns it, and possibly your first born son, too. Obviously, many people disagreed with S.I.'s monopoly; but what could they do about it? Cyber-terrorism doesn't work—they'd tried that a few years back. S.I. has the leading security software in the world. They hadn't even made a dent before they were locked out, then apprehended soon after. Government intervention? With the economy the way it is, the American government was just happy that they were on our side. Virtual reality has quickly become the most lucrative product to have ever been created. Ever. Business meetings, recreation, dating, you name it, S.I.'s True Reality can do it without the inconvenience of actually being there. With leading science technology, you can taste the juiciest steak you've ever had, and not gain any weight. Along with being the leading computer product in the world, True Reality, not surprisingly, is also the world's leading weight-loss product, program, and trainer. But, living a double life comes with its own costs. Debauchery, adultery, addiction all run rampant, like a black tumor on the soul of humanity. You'd think that addiction wouldn't be a problem. But, data can be transferred easily to the brain, meaning that a beer in True Reality affects the brain in the exact same way as it would in real life. The funny thing is, Silicon Industries also owns the leading product when it comes to drug abuse; neural serum. Designed to enhance nerve receptivity, both in and out of virtual reality, S.I. owns all serum factories, while its composition is a closely guarded secret. Any street dealer claiming to have a cheaper version of neural serum is lying; without the exact chemical balance that S.I. has within their serum, it is likely that even just one sip could kill a person. Not a pretty sight. Still, life has been decent. Working for S.I. definitely has its benefits. Good pay, and I was provided with my own full body virtual reality unit. I had nothing to complain about. Plus, my job was probably the easiest within all of history. I transfer calls to our India branch. Simple as that. I usually spend most of my day playing some old school game on my computer. Currently working on the first Halo game; practically a relic now. Even better, no one in the office gave a shit. We all did our own thing, growing fat and wealthy from Silicon Industries. The day progressed as usual, without a hitch in the plan. The constant “Brrr!” of telephones has almost become a lullaby to me, destroying all thoughts and passing the time. My body is a machine; hand grabs phone, mouth moves slowly with annunciation, and fingers move in robotic staccato over the keypad. This job affords little time to think, aside from the occasional client meeting. Speaking of which. Checking the time, I skid across the vinyl floors on plastic wheels, rubber soles singing a disharmonious song on the ground. Standing up, feeling blood gush back into my legs, I headed over to where my office virtual reality unit was located. Although prepping for virtual reality used to be a large ordeal, I must say that Silicon Industries has done an impressive job in improving customer comfort. The virtual reality unit is nestled within a metal and plastic pod, sleek like a sideways egg. They come in a slurry of colors, accommodating even the most eccentric of interior designers. The inside of more current units are lined with cushioning and a slick, almost like silk, overlay. This cloth acts as a pathway for data to enter the nerves, and therefore the brain. Some models still use wired connections, but these are usually outdated, or economy models. My hand passed over a metal tray that sat on a table, shadow gliding over numerous chemicals. Neural serum, muscle relaxant, pain killers, all provided by S.I. Grabbing the only medication I needed, simple sleep pills, I washed the tiny capsules down my throat. Without further delay, I hopped into the pod, glancing quickly at my watch. Still had twenty minutes—enough time to fall asleep, and make myself presentable. Using a virtual reality unit is always a strange experience for first time users. You always expect to simply fall asleep, and stay asleep. However, just as you hang on the fringes of darkness, you are jettisoned into a vibrant other-reality, not entirely sure of how you got there. As a regular user, I am fairly accustomed to it, but still find it unsettling at best. You never expect to actually be awake. I flexed my hands, feeling the skin tighten and then relax. Perhaps it wasn't the sudden shift that always left me feeling strange; maybe it was that feeling of smallness within the virtual world, of never entirely fitting the skin you are wearing, which always seems to hang from you like a loose glove. In the virtual world, appearances are everything. Why else would we create a second world, if not to massage our own egos? I looked the idyllic business associate—round glasses, hair slicked to the side, and a starched suit all part of my standard repertoire. Sitting down at a table, I waited. There was nothing to be seen, except for an endless sea of white. Clean and simple, devoid of distractions. The perfect room for business meetings. Provided a time, a place, and an access key, our client would show up soon. I waved my hand across the air, watching as glowing red numbers slid out from the side of my palm. Four fifty nine. Cubes of data cascaded as the minute slipped by, an invisible door opening from the rest of the world. Neon lights seared my eyes from a carbon copy of Tokyo. A beautiful city, if the S.I. replica could be trusted. The only thing that marred it was the body falling from a building... “Chapel Eversly?” The voice inquired, as the body floated through the doorway. My eyes snapped to attention, finding their proper place. My body stood up curtly, walking over to shake the man's hand. Still, my mind was elsewhere. Self-mutilation wasn't uncommon in the virtual world, but suicide and death was seldom seen. Death was one of the few things that would trigger True Reality's safety switch, automatically powering off a personal unit. Still, just a fraction of the pain would be felt, within the millisecond span it takes for the unit to shut down. I am told that fragment of time lasts an eternity. I shivered. “I assume you have my order, Mr. Eversly?” All business, this guy. I nodded, without saying much. I was being paid to be a carrier, not to talk. My right arm lurched forward, a briefcase compiling in my hand. A physical manifestation of data, nothing more but a symbol. Still, my arm felt the illusory weight. His hand stretched out, fingers beginning to grasp the handle. “Thank yo-” Searing pain clawed at my chest as my ears popped. I tore at my body, leaving red marks streaming down my skin. I could not even scream, agony clogging my windpipe like viscous liquid. A server malfunction? my barely functioning mind thought. The unit's door opened with a hiss, fresh air flooding into me. I hadn't heard of a scheduled server maintenance, and certainly not for an S.I. private server. Sweat poured from my temples as I sat up, lungs heaving desperately. I managed to calm myself down, the only real threat to my health being cardiac arrest from shock. “Fuck...” I sighed out, coughing as I gingerly stepped out from the pod. My muscles would be sore for at least a day. With a sudden server disconnect, where the entire server crashes, the nerves are jarred and left raw, streams of unfiltered data crammed into the tiny pathways of the body. My head would be pounding for hours from the overload. Watering my parched lips with a half-full cup, I knew I would be taking work off for the next few days. With pay. “Can't even fucking get a handle on their own damn maintenance schedule...” I muttered to myself as I walked out of the office building. I noticed that my knuckles were white, as I grasped the metal bar on the bus ride home. My nerves were still fried. Arriving at my stop, careful to avoid any physical contact, I slowly made my way home. The cold did nothing to help my sensitive body. The door clicked as the bolt slid to the side. My eyes adjusted as I turned the lights on. No one home, just as I liked it. Or rather, no Shaw home, him being the only other resident in the house. I climbed the stairs like an Olympiad, legs threatening to flop out from under me uncontrollably. I didn't even bother undressing, or getting ready for bed. I was ready to be cradled by calm, quiet, and dark sleep. My eyes drifted off, shadows encompassing their vision ---- [big]2[/big] It's different. There was no answer, yet again. But he was right; something had changed. He had not noticed before, but it was winter; cold air burned his lungs like fire and chill wind sunk its fangs into his flesh. He felt the clattering of tooth on tooth, the churning of slowed blood in his veins. He could feel the crunch of snow beneath his feet as his legs moved, unparalyzed, waking from their long slumber. He was moving, he felt, he understood—all new to him. Yet, he still could not remember. Why am I here? The clockwork snake stopped its endless coils, eyes piercing his body. They asked the same question, sought an answer within him. He could not give them an answer, much as he wanted to. He knew who he was, what he stood for, yet not how he had come to this ticking town. He looked behind him, hoping that, maybe, just maybe, the snow had not forgotten his path. White. Endless white, without a single scar. He looked at his hands once again, seeking comfort in the memories of their peaks and valleys. There was none to be found, only the strange hands of a foreigner. The man in green fell to his knees, clutching at his head with his hands. Remember! Their words echoed his, a malicious chant assaulting his ears. Hands of an unseen clock exploded, the fragments converging on the fallen hero. Waves of memories crashed against the cliffs of his mind, breaking him ever so slightly with each rupture. Memories of this land, and another, flooded into his mind, numbing all thought. The people surrounding him became nothing more than the numbers of the eternal timepiece, its hands revolving madly around him. Memories of a second life, a second lie, burned their way into his soul. “Chapel Eversly....?” an unknown voice asked. ... Who am I? ------------------- Another sleepless night, wasted away in forgotten dreams. I could not shake the uneasy feeling that was amiss, that I had overlooked something important. “That damn machine...” My fingers ran through my hair, my palms massaging my temples. I had already called into the office, explaining the situation; there had been a unit malfunction, causing severe, but non-permanent, damage to the nerves, was how I worded it exactly. If, for any reason, an employee suffers damage due to the malfunction, not to be confused with misuse, of a Silicon Industries product, they are automatically given leave with pay. S.I. steps gingerly around any possible reason to be dragged into the courtroom. I heard the clattering of pans downstairs, and streams of curses. I was definitely not in the mood for Shaw, but I was sick of being cooped up in my tiny room. I had to venture downstairs, where I could get a breath of actual air, not musty, sweat infused toxicity. Like I said, I had not slept well. Clambering out of bed, I headed to the door, walking out without cleaning myself up first. Why bother? “You look like shit.” Just exactly what I wanted to hear. Still, it was nice to hear someone talking. I let him continue. “The fuck are you doing here, anyways? Those limpdicks finally get sick of your office shenanigans?” He said dryly. I wondered if he would ever be able to stop cursing. Hah. I really must have gotten more sick than I thought. “There was an accident with my office V.R. unit. Something like a server malfunction.” I replied, too exhausted to give him a hard time. I didn't really feel like being too chatty, my headache from the previous day still lingering on the fringes of my mind. “That's fucked up, man.” Always the straight shit from him. “I hear it hurts like hell.” As dumb as he seems, Shaw is actually fairly well informed. When he isn't making a complete fool of himself, you can actually have an intelligent conversation with him. “Like having splinters crammed up your fingernails. Anyways, since I don't have work today, I'm going out. Haven't had free time in a long while. Might stop at The Hub if you want to join.” I offered, not sure if I actually wanted him to come or not. As annoying as he gets, I don't get out often. He's one of the few remaining childhood friends I have left. We used to go to The Hub all the time, a virtual reality cafe dedicated to the revival of old school games. That bricks of that place are glued with nostalgia. “Yeah, why not.” He replied, even sounding enthusiastic. Good enough for me. After cleaning up for a bit, I finally started getting ready. Funny, how much work changes your life. I had a hard time finding plain clothes, under the racks of starched dress shirts and too-crisp pants. Jeans and a ratty t-shirt were all I could muster, apparently. Throwing on a jacket, Shaw and I left. There wasn't much for me to do, aside from buy a few books and a few other antiques I'd had on hold. Another of my friends, from when I was young, runs a pawn shop. She keeps a special inventory just for me. I walked through the old wooden door and was immediately set upon by hundreds of strange, foreign scents. “Zosia! You there?” I knocked on the door frame, moving to let Shaw in. “Hello? Anyone here?” I looked around, but didn't see anyone. “Dude, you know she hates it when you call her that.” Shaw interjected, interrupting my calling. “Besides, what kind of a weird fuckin' name is that?” He pried open a small box he'd been fiddling with, and was promptly rewarded with a cloud of dust. I shrugged. He was right, but it had been forever since I'd last visited. I felt bad about it, really. A bell rung as someone walked through the door angrily. She threw a punch Shaw's way, hitting him square across the jaw. I narrowly escaped being hit, myself, having had been warned by Shaw's protests. “Can you guys not read signs? If you want, I can take it down and spell the damn thing out for you...” She ranted angrily, shaking her fist at us threateningly. “I step out to lunch for a half an hour, and look what happens. Two hooligans break into the place.” “Take it easy, Zo. We just dropped by to say hello. We weren't trying to steal anything.” A box dropped to the floor, Shaw acting as if he'd had no part in its departure to the floor. “Honest.” I leaned on the glass counter top, looking at some of the more expensive wares. Most were considered relics these days; a disk player, a foreman grill, hell she even had a gameboy in all its pastel-colored glory. Still, these weren't what I was interested in. “You got anything for me today?” I grinned like the proverbial kid in the candy store. I'm sure I looked stupid. She visibly calmed, letting out a deep sigh. “How do you live with him?” She nodded at Shaw. “Whatever, I don't care. Let me grab your things.” Ducking down under the counter, she brought out a tiny box of assorted goods. After rummaging through it for a few minutes, she triumphantly laid a small plastic rectangle on the table. Not what I had asked for. It was even better. “Holy shit! How did you find one of those? I didn't think you could find them anymore.” Shaw spoke for me, looking over my shoulders. I was too shocked to talk. I had fond memories that I was busy reliving. I picked it up gingerly, looking at the sticker on the front. It was far too faded to read, but I already knew what it was. The only thing that had not been obliterated by time was a blue instrument and a golden triangle. “Does it still work?” I was almost too afraid to ask, not wanting my hopes to be shattered. “I don't know.” She replied with a shrug. “Why don't we go test it? I can take the day off, since I own the damned place.” She said with a grin. “The Hub?” She asked. Shaw grinned. “You dirty bastards! You were already planning on going, weren't you.” She laughed and slugged me in the shoulder. We left the shop, every moment, even the turn of the key and the lock of the door, feeling like an eternity. This rectangle was more than a game to me. It reminded me of a better time, when dreams still ran rampant in my bedroom, and I still had the childish hope of being transported to some far away land. The magic was gone now, taken away by the responsibilities and realities of this world. But maybe, just maybe, I could forget again, and be taken back to that land one more time... Though it had changed, it still felt the same. That faint, unmistakable scent of the old drifted in the air, the sweetest of perfumes to us three. No matter the hardships, despite the passage of time, we would always know this place in our hearts and souls. The air was rife with remembrance as we walked in through the door, shoes squeaking on the vinyl floor. We could remember our shoes doing the same when we'd been younger and more energetic. I looked in wonder, ignoring the clear lack of care the place had suffered. Paint was torn from the wall in dozens of spots, while dark blotches in the ceiling had begun to rot away. We barely noticed the smell of mold, noses recalling only the sweet scents of the past. “We're here.” I breathed out in awe. It was like walking through the corridors of time, memory serving where reality could not. My heartbeats echoed the hard steps of my boots as I walked to the broken, unmanned counter. To me, it was whole. I could see illusory discs on display, the proudest treasures of the land. I saw shiny glass, the only barrier between myself and strange new lands. The old man chuckled as he watched the small child become entranced. “Hello, Chapel...” His words snaked into my ear. I looked up from my reverie to see him standing there. He smiled as his body floated away like smoke, dissipating just as quickly as he'd appeared. I sighed heavily; I saw the store for what it had truly become. Decrepit, in ruins, and utterly abandoned. What had we expected, returning after what, seemed to us, to have been an eternity? How long, since we had truly lived? As the phantasmal memory faded away, I realized that the door to the back had been left open; an invitation for us. I turned to Shaw and Zo, seeing the light return to their eyes as they remembered the truth. “This was our only hope...” I said quietly, looking down at the cartridge in my hands. Of the entire city, only The Hub would have cared enough to have had the technology to unlock the secrets of the tiny block in my hands. I turned back to the open door. Everything else had been taken, chairs, tables, True Reality units. Everything was gone. Was it too much to hope for, by some freak chance, or perhaps by fate, that what we needed was still here? “Let's go.” Shaw breathed out, the first to start towards the door. I followed him into the dark portal, unable to see in the unlit void. A light exploded forth from in front of me, guiding us the way. Shaw's phone served as a search light, prying into the corners and cavities. It reflected off of cheap, white plastic in the back of the room, blinding me only momentarily. Zosia gasped, her eyes filling slightly with tears. “I don't believe it. It's really here.” She said, almost unable to control her happiness. We all felt the same rush as we discovered it to be true; everything we could have hoped for was here. Cables ran from the wall socket into the machine, while other cables plugged into a large box. I flicked on the switch, watching as LED lights blinked at me like tiny fireflies, the low hum of machines the most harmonious of melodies to my ears. My fingers danced across the dust and grim, embracing the machine as an old friend. My hands sought the slots in the large, black box, knowing that what I wanted was there, yet not where it was. The door crackled and snapped as it was lifted from the machine, Shaw forcing the old unit entrance open. Zosia was rummaging through a small cardboard box, which had been left open, and apparently found what she was looking for. A tiny packet of white, cloth stickers. My hands found the corresponding slot and slid the cartridge into it, feeling the small resistance as it slid through. A perfect match. “It's only right that you go first. After all, you were the first of us.” Shaw said to me as I walked over to the unit. My father had kept relics from his childhood, had given them to me. Although I had not seen him much, the time I had spent with him had been good. The land I was about to return to, the place of my dreams, was the first gift he had given me. I, in turn, had brought my two dearest friends there with me. I could only nod to Shaw. “It's old, this unit. You'll have only the basics; visual and body integration is it.” Zosia agreed with Shaw, holding up the bag of stickers. It was open already, and she had begun to place them on the ends of wires within the machine. I began to stick the tiny circles onto my arms, legs, and head, feeling the prick of wires as they bit into my flesh ever so slightly. Clambering into the unit, Shaw grinned at me while Zosia offered a tiny smile. “See you when you get back.” The two brought down the door slowly, cradling me in darkness. I waited for sleep to overtake me, but it was hard. Excitement was the most potent stimulant of them all. I forced my eyes to close and my mind to quiet, removing all thought from my mind. One. I brought air in through my nose, smelling the almost acidic quality of the electricity charged air. Two. I let it escape from my mouth ever so slowly, feeling the sensation of my lungs collapsing. Three... ------------------- White and gray crackled loudly, assaulting his ears in a relentless barrage. Then, silence. His eyes opened, looking at the bright azure sky. White cotton drifted above him, bringing a sense of calm with their passing. Grass crumpled beneath him, his hands feeling its wetness from early morning dew. Still, the water was not cold, only crisp and refreshing. He drank in the warm sunlight, his body warming as it pierced him through and through. He couldn't help but smile, infected by the lightness of the weather. Yet, something was amiss. He sat up, stared around him. It was incomplete. Yet, he felt no fear, only a sense of loss and misdirection. Where things should have been whole, there was only a part. Half of a tree, simply gone, non-existent. Goron Mountain seemed to have been cleaved in half. And, off in the distance, all he could see was white, as if the land had simply been sheared and taken away, leaving only the null behind. He stumbled drunkenly towards the great white city of Hyrule, watching as buildings were beginning to disintegrate. Men and women, children or animal, it made no difference. They all stared at him soullessly, as if all hope, all emotion had been ripped from them. A small ball rolled across his path, with none to follow it. Link trudged on, burdened by their gazes. His boots pressed against the cobblestone weightily, stones breaking and vanishing where he walked. The null was in sight, was beginning to consume the land more and more. He entered the castle, unhindered by the guards, who, like the others, could not speak, could not move. Their eyes blazed with anger at their impotence as the man clad in green walked between them. He stormed through the castle hallways with similar results; however, he paid them no attention. Spurred by his mission, he knew that he had to find her. She would have the answer, would know what to do, just as she always had. He climbed the stairs like a possessed man, flying up the spiraling corridor as quickly as his feet would carry him. He'd begun to breath hard, sweat beginning to form on his brow. His feet became wings, his body sailing upwards. He crashed through the door with his shoulder, blinded by pure, white light... They were surrounded by nothing, simply suspended in the great white expanse. They stood there for a timeless moment, remembering the past, hoping for the future. Time's dust settled on the two, sensing that they had known each other for an eternity, inescapably tied together by fate's twining. The princess was draped in purple and white, her brown hair culled by the crown that sat upon her head. Her arm was outstretched towards the hero, her fingers splayed wide. “You came for me.” She smiled, only the corners of her lips lifting. He decided it was an old and weathered smile, the smile of someone who has lived through thousands of hourglasses. Her time had come. The princess was ready, feeling the tug of oblivion on her arm. He could only watch as she slowly began to fade away. “You.... reunite... powers...” her voice was being drowned out by white noise, crackling with each word. “...find... friends...past... code... restore... land... purge... darkness... save... me...” The noise increased in intensity, thundering in his ears. The Hero of Time fell to his knees, feeling a flood of emotions slam against his heart. He looked up at her, rivers streaming down his cheek. She smiled again, sadly this time. As her body began to drift away, like ash and smoke on the wind, she spoke one last time. “Take up your sword, Hero, and find time's beginning and end.” Her ephemeral hand caressed his cheek, trailing his tears into the wind as she fell away into nothingness. His fists clenched, the leather of his gloves crackling as he beat the ground with his fist. Driven by rage, he rocked back onto the balls of his feet, hands brushing the ground as he stumbled forward. With a maddened roar, he exploded through white glass, rolling forward as he hit the ground. Piercing the oppressive silence with a whistle, the hero sprinted towards the square, climbing onto a chestnut horse when it galloped aside him. Pursued by the sea of nothingness, he spurred his horse faster and faster, feeling its muscles surging below his body like a torrid river of muscle and blood. Stones broke as the horse's hooves crashed down upon them, tossing chips of stone and dust into the air. With a whinny, the horse leaped into the courtyard. Her two front legs buckled and collapsed, taken by the white. He lunged off of her saddle, continuing his mad charge into the temple, even as his horse was overtaken. Running through arches and dimly lit hallways, he navigated through the temple from memory. Stained glass shattered into dust as the void pressed through. His chest was heaving now, sweat rolling off of him as steam. He broke through the wooden door, shattering it into boards and splinters. Though his goal was in sight, it felt as if he still stood miles away from it. His legs pumped powerfully against the ground, his boots gripping against the cold marble floor. He lunged forth with his arm outstretched, white dogging his heels. Grasping the sword, he ripped it away from its pedestal. He was consumed in golden light, exploding forth from the triangle on his fist... ------------------- “Chapel.” Grogginess fogged my eyes, obscuring my sight with thick haze. “Hey.” The voice spoke again, though I still could not recognize the face. Strong hands gripped my shoulders and shook me. My eyes slowly adjusted, finally realizing what was going on. It was Shaw. He looked disappointed. I asked why. Zosia and Shaw looked at each other for a second, then looked back at me. “It didn't work. We tried to watch you from the monitor, but all we got was white noise.” Zosia answered my puzzled look. Then, more softly; “And the machine fried the cartridge.” She presented me with its remains, as if she were showing me some holy relic, now irrevocably lost. Both their eyes pitied me, looked to give me comfort. They, too, were disappointed, but they knew the greatest sadness would be my own. I grasped my forehead with my right hand, fingers running through my short bangs. Hammers thundered against my temples, just like they had the day before. So, that was it, I guess. I had fallen asleep, and nothing had happened. Yet, why did my heart feel loss greater than just disappointment, why did golden light glint in the corners of my vision? I clenched my left hand, feeling a great emptiness, a lack of weight and substance. It was meant to grasp something, but what? I looked up at them, offering them a wan smile. “I'm fine you guys. I just feel a little sick from yesterday.” They clearly didn't believe me, their faces stern as they helped me up and out of the unit. “Besides, I didn't really expect anything to happen. “I... I had just hoped that I would have more than a memory to live off of. That's all.” I gave them another fake smile. They began heading towards the door without a word, knowing that I would follow after them when I was ready. I took a moment to look around, taking it all in one more time. I smelled the dust now, felt the decay in my bones. Ah, if only I could live those days again. I felt the sticker of the cartridge with my thumb, my skin brushing against the blues, yellows, reds. I smiled ever so slightly, a tear drop falling onto the cartridge. A single tear, shed not for days past, but for love lost. I did not know for whom, only that my heart told me this was right. I walked slowly towards the door, gently grasping the door knob in my hand. I let out a deep sigh, pondered, then walked through. My hand fell from the knob, dropping to my side. I left the door of time ajar, walking back into the light...
[big]3[/big] There wasn't much talking as we made our way back to the boutique. No one wanted to break the silence first. I suppose we were all busy with our own thoughts, nursing our not-so-petty dreams. Anyone else would not have understood, would not have felt the keen blade of disappointment. Our generation had spent more time in fantasy lands than in reality. In more ways than one, we were the generation of the lost. With the world becoming an ever more difficult place to survive in, our parents had tried to give us every opportunity, had tried to make us desirable to big names and big corporations; and in doing so, they had neglected the most important thing of all. They had forgotten how to be parents. Without emotional guidance, we sought other things as an escape—books, athletics, games. We swept all of our tiny emotional dust bunnies under the moldy carpet of our mind. I smiled sadly. I couldn't hold them accountable for the person I was, the person I'd become. They had only thought they were doing the best for me, which is more than I could ask of anyone. If I'd held any resentment towards them before, it was now gone. It had been replaced by a cold pit in my stomach, one that felt empty and devoid of life. I knew they were my parents, understood what they had done for me. But the parents of our generation didn't understand that the simple two words of “I'm fine.” were a silent scream for help, that we'd been drowning in a slurry of hormones and real life circumstance. Babump! I clutched my chest, stumbling ever so slightly. Perhaps remembering hurt more than I had expected. My vision shook as my heart trembled. I looked down at my hands, all at once familiar and not. I looked up to see flickers of green, watching as buildings turned to hills and trees, then back again. I fell to my knees, feeling gritty pavement, then feeling the crunch of leaves and the moisture of soft grass and soil. Black pushed at the corners of my eyes, overtaking my vision wholly. As I fell to the ground, two figures grasped me. Chapel... ----------------- “Link!” Chapel... Someone called his name, rousing him from slumber. His arms reached up into the air as he yawned, his body arching upwards. Rubbing his eyes with balled fists, the boy dressed in green stepped out from his bed, boots clacking against the wood floor. A blue ball of light, no bigger than his eye, floated near his head, pestering him with incessant chatter. He pulled his green tunic over his head, strapping it around his waist with a leather belt. He placed his green cap atop his head, its point resting easily behind his head. “Hey! Listen!” the blue fairy called out, fluttering by his ear. Pixie dust trailed her as she zipped around, continually trying to get the boy's attention. Pulling on his pointed ear, she continued her shrieking. Swatting her away from his ear, Link paid her no mind. He was drawn to the door of his home, a strange feeling overcoming him. It felt as if he were being drawn towards it, as if he had forgotten something important that he had to do. Stepping forward, he hesitantly reached out with his hand, grasping the handle tightly. He had a sense of foreboding, as if, once opened, the door could never be closed again. He turned the handle, yellow light leaking through as he began to push out. Time's flow collided with him in a wave, washing up against him like a tidal force. Memories of the yet-to-happen seared the back of his eyes. His screams mingled with the roar of light that surged into him, striking his body like lightning. He convulsed like a puppet on a string, unable to control the power that tore through him. He remembered both the past and the future at once; he recalled his struggle against the darkness, ruled by Ganondorf, that had fallen across the land. He knew of his own bravery, of taking up the Master Sword and traveling to the future. He knew of the balance created within the Triforce, a sacred triangle of immeasurable worth, separated by three pieces; one of power, wisdom, and courage. He remembered the hope lost, then won, during his final struggle, when wisdom and courage had triumphed over power. And when it was all over, when he'd become a boy again, he saw himself slipping, falling, traveling to a far off land, where his bones had grown old for the second time. The light had stopped, but words continued to trickled into his brain from the torrent of memories that now plagued him. Seven Sages. Those who he'd sought to seal evil within a realm lost time. He recalled a masked figure's words perfectly; "When evil rules all, an awakening voice from the Sacred Realm will call those destined to be Sages, who dwell in the five temples. One in a deep forest... One on a high mountain... One under a vast lake... One within the house of the dead... One inside a goddess of the sand..." His mind deliberately found these words, realized their significance. One in a deep forest... Saria! Link lunged forward, forcing his way through the door and into a dark, orange light. The light blinded him for a moment, his eyes having had been adjusted to the darkness of the night. But he heard the telling sounds of men and women sobbing and screaming, begging for mercy, and the inevitable sound of laughing. Always there was resounding, malicious laughter when the innocent were led to slaughter. Link's hand fell away from his face, his eyes flickering with angry light. The forest was burning. ----------------- Sweat dribbled down my neck and face from the unbearable heat. Flames licked my skin in a deadly caress, blistering where it touched. I screamed out, both in emotional and physical pain, my hands clutching at the air for imaginary comfort. Grasping some invisible support, I wrenched myself from my dream, lungs nearly bursting with strain. “... forest... burning...” Words heaved from my mouth, unintelligible but coherent. I touched my face with my hands, frightened by the searing heat emanating from my body. “Just... a dream?” All I could remember was an intense burning sensation, all consuming in its wrath. My hands pressed up against my cheek, feeling salty crust from recently evaporated tears. I shook my head, forced myself to gobble air like I hadn't eaten for days. The dreams were getting worse, though I could only ever remember that something terrible was happening. “... fuckn' conspiracy...” I heard someone grumbling next to me. Even asleep, he couldn't give it a rest. I grinned, looked at Shaw who was asleep in a hospital chair. I am obliged to say that he was drooling all over the place, and that a nice puddle was forming on the ground. Still, it was nice to know that someone cared. Next to him, on the attached chair, was a purple suede jacket. Never did understand her taste in clothing. The door creaked open, bright florescent light reflecting off of austere white surfaces. “Shaw, you asshat! He's awake, dammit!” Zosia forgot the coffee in her hands, violently kicking Shaw in the shins. He woke with a jolt, nearly bashed his face into the scalding cups, then stood up. “What! What's going on!” He flailed about, looking around, only to find that the aliens of his dream weren't there. “Oh.” That's Shaw for you, the most eloquent man in existence. I couldn't help but burst out into laughter. Their own laughs joined with mine as a chorus, infected by my jovial mood. When I finally stopped, when my laughs sounded more like hiccups, I wiped the tears from my eyes. “Coffee?” Zosia offered to the both of us, dabbling at her eyes with the corner of her shirt, removing the three cups from their little box. I sipped at the hot java, still smirking. Putting it down on the table to my right, I took a deep breath, banishing the giggles that threatened to overtake me again. “So, what the hell happened to me?” I asked, sobering up the mood. If something hadn't happened, why else would I be in a hospital bed? Clearly, something had gone wrong, as both their faces visibly straightened. “You passed out and started having seizures in the middle of the street.” Zosia said with concern, her arms crossed. She leaned against the door post heavily. “Doctor doesn't know what's up, though Shaw told them about your accident in the office. The best answer they could give us is that you shouldn't use any reality units for awhile. They said that your neural activity was off the charts.” She explained with a sigh. Not a real answer; it didn't explain why I'd suddenly fainted. “I wonder why it didn't go off yesterday, after I'd left my unit. Why did it have to wait until this afternoon?” I pondered, really only asking myself. Zosia and Shaw looked at each other, both their eyebrows wrinkling with concern. “What?” “Chapel, you've been out for days. As hard as they had tried, you wouldn't wake up. You were out like a fuckin log.” I could hear it in Shaw's voice, that they'd been worried that I wouldn't wake up. I breathed heavily, now worried for myself. I looked at my shaking hands, begged them to stop. “Can you guys give me a second?” I asked them weakly, feeling bile churn in my stomach. They left the room without a word, though they both shot me weird glances as the door closed. I promptly heaved the contents of my stomach, which wasn't much since I'd been feeding from a tube, into the bucket beside my bed. Smart thinking, whoever had thought to do that. I wiped my chin, rinsing the sourness from my mouth with a cup of water, which had been so thoughtful to have placed itself on my nightstand. Laying my head back, I stared at the popcorn ceiling, making faces from the kernels. I tried to keep my mind off of it, but it kept wandering to the dark, unlit parts of the path. I couldn't help but wonder what was happening to me. It felt as if a darkness had been planted deep within me, its sickly branches beginning to strangle away at anything it could get hold of. I couldn't explain it. All I knew was that Shaw and Zosia were right to worry about me; something, far worse than what the doctor's had told us, was happening to me, and I felt powerless to stop it. Giving up entirely, I beat the bed with my fists. Grabbing the television remote, I heart the familiar pop and hiss as the screen lit up. Maybe watching the news would help to distract me, like a fetish to keep the demons away. I flipped through the channels, found a decent channel. Shaw and Zosia walked back in, having had probably heard the television turn on. Neither of them said anything, but they shifted uncomfortably in the silence between us. I turned the volume down, forced us to confront each other. “I'm fine, you guys. I just felt a little sick. I didn't want you guys to see me puking my guts out.” I gave them a fake smile, pointing over at the waste bucket. They weren't buying my bullshit, though, from what their looks told me. I breathed out, looking down at my bedsheets. I spent a moment counting the threads, feeling the course sheets between my fingers. They waited for me to organize my thoughts. The anchor's voice boomed in the silence, no longer a dull hum. “...accidents occurring more frequently...” I clicked the power button of the remote. We didn't need a fourth party in the room. I looked up at Zosia first, then at Shaw. I wondered if they were thinking the same as I had; that something was deeply wrong with me. Before, they would have both known if something were amiss without even asking me. But now, I wasn't so sure. We'd grown apart in the years, forced from each other by life's realities. Yet here they were, though they were not my family, not my mother and father, watching over me. I was saved from having to talk, though. A nurse walked through the door, Shaw having had forgotten to close the door. She brought me my food. Apparently my friends had told them that I was awake. I shoved food into my mouth, hunger gnawing at my stomach. I looked up from my food too see the nurse screamed and punch Shaw in the face. Apparently he was rather hands-on today. “Stop harassing the nurses. They'll stop bringing me Jell-o.” My face wrinkled in mock disdain. We laughed a little more, our laughter made ever so slightly desperate by the circumstances. Still, I had dodged the bullet, did not have to explain to them how exactly I was feeling, or what I suspected. Pausing to chew a little, I held up my napkin in front of my mouth and talked. “Did they tell you when I could leave?” I said through a full mouth. I gulped down the mashed potatoes that was occupying my mouth. “They want to keep you here for a few more days, so they can run more tests now that you're awake.” Zosia explained, finally sitting down. Shaw stayed standing in the door way, where he could continue to appreciate the nice hospital “vista”. I could tell that Zosia was trying very hard not to pick up a chair so she could start beating him with it. “ Now that you're awake, we'll still stay around, though maybe not as much.” She brushed hair out from in front of her glasses, an eye twitching as she watched Shaw from her periphery vision. “Thanks, you guys.” Shaw wasn't really listening, but Zosia gave me a smile, glad to know that I appreciated them being at the hospital with me. I put down my fork, surprised by how much I was able to consume in such a short amount of time. “I guess I should call my parents, tell them what's going on.” I sounded pretty lame right about then. I clearly didn't want to. Shaw cringed. “Fuck that. You know how they'll react when you tell them about the accident.” He shook his head, knowing exactly what I would go through if I dared call them. I avoided talking with my parents like the plague, barely visited them. Thank god they had moved away a long, long time ago. Both Zosia and Shaw could understand my predicament, though their family relationships were better than my own. “Ah, well, I should probably get going.” Zosia interjected, looking at her watch. Gathering her belongings she walked over to my bed, trying to decide what would be the appropriate farewell. She decided on a hug, though she left me the gift of an unexpected kiss to the cheek. Huh. She stepped out of the door, pushing past Shaw. He was still staring out the door and into the hospital hallways. “Shaw, get to work you lazy ass.” I yelled at him from across the room, looking at the time. He worked the second shift at a Wal-Mart, usually going to sleep just after I left for work. He walked off, waving his hand without looking back. He was probably going to creep around the hospital for a few more minutes. I shook my head, chuckled under my breath. Some people never change. Time slipped away in the next few days, riddled with the occasional test. I spent a lot of time sleeping, never feeling fully rested. Dreams did not disturb my sleep, but they always hung upon the fringe of my consciousness, ready to pounce on my mind when the chance came. My eyes would always snap open, my mind bolting like a frightened deer. Why was I so afraid of my own dreams, the one place where I could feel safe, invulnerable? Had something so irrevocably changed within me, that not even my sleep was safe from the terrors of the real world? It wasn't long before I was discharged from the hospital. Neither Shaw nor Zosia was there when I left, walking out from that dead place. Hospitals were always lifeless; the clean, white surfaces devoid of color, the patients moving stiffly like the walking dead. I was glad to leave. Still, even though I was physically tired, my mind felt refreshed. I had been able to organize my thoughts, had found myself again within the dredges of the past. I returned to work the same day. I dealt with probing questions by simply saying that I was sick, and hadn't been able to come to work. Apparently the answer was good enough, my co-workers voicing feigned concern then returning to their jobs. I didn't see my boss; he probably neither cared nor had the time. I'd left a message explaining my accident in the office, calling the morning after. Work passed much the same, though I had changed. It actually came as a relief this time, banishing thoughts of the past few days. I'd been scheduled for another client meeting, though. I passed it off to the next person, instead picking up slack elsewhere. The routine ground away at my consciousness, my muscle memory taking over completely. Data tables, records, things I usually hated. I even took a few calls. Before I knew it, I had returned to my comfort zone, already denying that anything strange was happening. Sitting at my desk, my vision began to blur before I knew what happened. My breathing was to slowing, as were my hands, moving at a steadily sluggish pace. I yawned more and more often, but I paid them no mind, working myself into a stupor. Before I could stop it, my exhaustion had caught up, had overtaken me completely. My mind drifted away from my body, and I spent a strange moment contemplating myself, until I finally fell away into madness... ----------------- Red and orange fused together, a deadly palette of colors searing its way through the trees. Dark shadows overtook children of the forest, haunted by nightmares that were all too real. The darkness that had once plagued the land was restored; terrifying beasts, the likes of which none of this time had known, had come back. And Link, the chosen of the Triforce of Courage, stood there, the snake of fear strangling the life from him. He, who had defeated Ganondorf, had charged fearlessly into battle time and again, was paralyzed. Of all his countless battles, and the horrors he had seen, none had stopped his indomitable courage. And yet, here he stood, unable to move, to lift a finger to protect those he loved. He shut his eyes, tried to banish the screams, the bloody crimson that flooded his thoughts. This is a dream! It has to be! His mind screamed. He had fought against the evil, had already lived through this part in his life. This had never happened, wasn't supposed to happen. Yet, despite all logic, despite what he knew to be true, he could not deny that something had changed, time's flow diverging with it. He grasped it hand in his hands, pushing against his temples. Link's eyes fluttered open. A howl cleaved the air, like thunder rolling through the night air, drowning out all sounds. His back arched as rage shook through him, possessed by the wrath of a lifetime. No! He urged himself on. He refused to fall into complacency, to let fear of the unknown path consume him. Memories battered against the walls of his mind, recalling the same sense of rage. Charging forward, he felt courage return to him, quickening his blood and bones. Launching from the balcony of his home, he landed to the ground with a roll. His feet pushed off of the ground continuing his momentum in a furious sprint. Grasping the hilt of Kokiri blade, he rushed forth into the sea of chaos. Though the blade was only an arms length, fashioned for the small Kokiri, his muscles remembered the weight of a sword well. Time gave him immeasurable strength, protected him from the carnage of the battlefield. He made his way through the battle, between Kokiri and monstrosity, just another body amongst the wave of flesh. His mind repeated her name over and over, “Saria” becoming a litany against any and all distractions. Above all else, of the lives of every Kokiri around him, hers was the one that truly mattered. For without her, and the other Sages, evil could not be defeated, destroyed one last time. He wept for the deaths that he saw, and for the ones that he would inevitably never know of, and for the forest and its many children. Though he could barely see through his tears, through the ash, through the blood and gore, he knew where he had to go. He bolted through a curtain of flame, crackling with the applause of burning wood. She would be with the guardian of the forest, the Deku Tree, the sacred protector who watched over the forest. The heat was nearly unbearable, but Link pushed his way through the crackling forest, dodging through the deathtrap the burning trees had become. He broke through blazing foliage, seared by the embers as the flaming barrier exploded. He stumbled to a halt, his eyes climbing down the massive trunk of the great tree, his eyes watering to see the behemoth's face scrunched in agony. Kneeling in the withering, dark grass, in front of the tree, sat the Sage of Forest, praying to the goddesses with every fiber of her soul. “Saria!” the boy screamed out, lunging forward towards her. Her soiled face turned to him, green locks curling in the heat. She called out his name too, her arm outstretched to grasp his. But there was something wrong, something he was forgetting... A shining orb appeared within the tree's mouth, its dark pupil focusing down on the two. The great eye jarred him, shattering the thin, glass barrier of forgetfulness. The curse! The monstrous arachnid clambered forth from its hole, its smooth carapace blurring the orange light cast upon it. “Get down!” he screamed out, grasping her in both arms. He pulled her down to the ground, feeling a rush of wind as the horror's snapping pincers passed over them. She screeched at the loss of her prey as she sailed over their heads, declaring a deadly challenge to the young hero. He stood up, eyes staring defiantly into her one. Orange flickered in their eyes, conjured by their enmity. A deep rumble emanated from behind Link, the Great Deku Tree's groan piercing the silence. Link charged forth once more, fear banished from his heart. He had no shield with which to defend himself, armed only with a tiny blade, yet he had the utmost confidence in himself. He had defeated Gohma once before, in a time now gone. He let out a scream once again, mustering the strength deep within. He could not fail, not when he was needed most! Taken aback by his reckless abandon, the queen spider paused in her hesitation. She was old in her evil, was cunning enough to know when something was amiss. She blinked once, observing the tiny green streak as it made its way towards her. How was it, that, when confronted by her terrifying presence, this child was still able to move, let alone struggle against her? She loosed her own battle cry, vowed to make the insolent brat suffer. The green-haired maiden stared in awe as the overwhelming presences collided with explosive results. For a moment, she forget herself and the forest, could stare only at Link as he charged valiantly forward. This was not the same child; the Link she had known was adopted by the Kokiri, a Hylian child, an outcast from the forest's society. And yet she sensed the same boy, deep within, the driving force behind his great courage. She, too, sensed another presence in him, laying dormant. The moment passed and her senses returned. Link had his task, and she had her own. Acting on impulse, guided by the hand of her ancestors and the power embedded in, she ran towards the mouth of the great tree, carried as swiftly as her small legs could bear. She heard the boy scream out with fury as she ran into the darkness, sparing only a small glance behind her. He rolled to the side as a massive foot crashed down beside him, the earth tremoring beneath the weight of the hulking beast. Link let out a scream as he charged at the leg, slicing with his sword. Metal bounced off of hardened carapace, leaving only a slight mark in the arachnid's outer armor. Without pausing, knowing that the slightest moment of hesitation could be his end, he ran forward, maneuvering out of the spider's grasp. Claws tried to snare him, but he was too small, too agile to be caught by sluggish movements. Too many times did Gohma's claws close on nothing but air, missing an arm, a leg, by a fraction of a second. She grunted in anger and frustration, this pestilent green gnat now the bane of her existence. In a fit of rage, her entire body shook, not only threatening to crush Link with its chaotic gyrations, but also dislodging the eggs from the underside of her belly. Liquid splashed outwards as the eggs hit the ground, coating the forest floor with ichor and slime. Smaller spiders emerged from each sack, each as large as the boy himself. Their mouths clicked and clacked, a macabre show of the hunger that gnawed at their bellies. Spiders became martyrs as they flung themselves towards the whirling blade, in the hopes that their brethren would overtake him. Many died, yet there were always more; the queen's spawn were relentless. Link's body was beginning to fatigue—although he recalled every slash, every parry, the reality was that his body could not stand the strain of an adult one. Gasping for air, he retreated backwards, holding his sword behind him. Recalling the power of old, feeling the surge of energy welling up from within him, Link began his final assault. Old leather gripped the parched soil, seared by fire. Leg muscles bulged, pushed to their limits, as Link pressed forward. The heat was suffocating, stifling the air within her lungs. Yet her resolve did not waver; some irrepressible voice guided her hands and feet, moving one in front of the other. All dignity had been abandoned as she crawled through the deep places beneath the tree, driven my a maddening sense that she might be too late, that all hope would be lost if she did not make it in time. She ignored the heat, the dirt, the sweat that streamed down her face. Fingernails dug through dirt, blood already beginning to cake the soil together. She fought not only for herself, but for her people, for the forest, for the land itself; her discomfort was insignificant. Sweat mingled with blood and tears as she continued through the tunnel, the walls and ceiling collapsing around her as she clambered out. She had known the instant she had entered the tree; by some cruel turn of fate, the great tree was dying. Though not a word had passed between them, Saria knew that he was hanging on by a thread, using the last of his willpower so that she might reach her goal, that this time might know salvation. She wiped the tears from her eyes, looked up from where she stood. Grasping a root with blistering, seeping hands, she pulled herself from the mire of despair, pressed on for a brighter future. Letting a feral cry loose, Link twirled his diminutive body, spinning in a deadly pirouette. Blue fire trailed its tip, magical power honing the blade. Cutting a bloody swath though the spider army, Link stepped forward, challenging the darkness with every fiber of his being. He, too, could not simply stand idle, could not allow injustice to go unpunished. Moving nimbly, he narrowly avoided being crushed by a massive foot, the queen focusing her attentions on him once again. He did not know fear, side-stepping each crushing appendage within only a hairsbreadth of a margin. A sharp pincer clipped his shoulder, an ear, but pain was beyond him. As a foot fell near his side, he charged at it with reckless abandon, leaping at it as it lifted from the ground. Lodging his blade in the joint between plates, Link held onto the sword's hilt with unnatural strength. The armored arachnid screamed, more in annoyance than anything, tried to shake him from her appendage. But the sword had bitten deep, digging ever further as she flailed. Every finger grasped on tightly, curled around the handle of the sword with bone-crushing strength. He waited, knowing that his time would come. She staggered on, making her way slowly towards the heart within the tree. The heat was slamming against her head like a sledgehammer, her vision beginning to double over. She could barely breath; it was as if her lungs had shriveled in the incredible heat. She could no longer tell if she was hearing the beats of her heart, or of the trees; either way, she knew she was getting close. Entering the center room, her eyes fell upon what she had sought, buried within the wooden walls. A gem, inlaid in gold, and the size of her fist, glowed with ethereal light, sensing the peril that endangered everything within the forest. She stumbled towards it in adrenaline fueled fervor, falling against the wall as she reached it. Her hand caressed its smooth face, still cool, despite the blazing fires. She knew what she had to do, could barely bring herself to do it. But she found the strength within herself, steeled her heart. Unsheathing the small dagger from her belt, she scrunched her eyes, forcing the tears back, knew that they would not stop if they were not stopped now. Raising her arms, she stabbed into the sacred tree, gouging deep into the heartwood. The knife's blade slid out smoothly, coated in dark sap. With every pained stab, she felt the tree shudder, holding on for her sake. She could not stop them, a sob breaking from her tight lips. She quivered with uncontrollable grief, yet continued her bloody work, prying the gem looser with each strike. It seemed an eternity of everlasting sorrow, each time she brought her hands down like a grain of sand falling in the immortal hourglass. And suddenly it was over, the emerald within her hands, cradled by her body as she shuddered against the floor. As she was enveloped by by sweet, comforting sleep, she felt the ghost of death creep down upon the tree, beckoning its soul away. Reluctant to leave, the Deku Tree's voice boomed out with his last words, the last spark of his life given as a gift to her people... She raised her leg high up into the air, ready to bring it crashing down to finally jar the boy from his perch. Link's eyes snapped open, the harbinger of death possessing him. Heaving the blade out of her leg with a hiss and crackle, Link shot downwards, falling towards her great eye. Ashes fluttered slowly by as she realized her folly; the boy was falling slowly, like an unstoppable iceberg. She was powerless to stop him, could only watch as the executioner's axe fell. His resolve was inexorable, fate's decree already made. First the crippling pain, then darkness, as the boy did his bloody work. She fell to the ground, wondering what spirit could have possessed a small child, hidden deep within a forest, and given him such strength, such terrifying power. The last thing she had seen was the hero's descent; as she lay dying, she heard her own writhing screams and the sound of thunder; and, as she finally passed, she felt the soft caress of wind, gathering her in its arms and carrying her gently to a better world... As he emerged victorious, Link was blown back by a gust of wind. Yet he could feel nothing, an eerie sense of nothingness clutching at his heart. Though he had won, he had still failed; hundreds had died this night, and he'd been powerless to stop them. Yet, just as he hung upon the edges of despair, a voice called out to him, whispered on the final winds of the tree. Do not give up hope, for the hero must take up the blade of time once more. Gather the seven for the last time, for they hold the key to saving this land. For they are your salvation, Chapel Eversly... The holy gust washed over the forest, quelling the fires to a sizzle, all evil quaking in fear in its wake. The forest would survive, as would its children, as irrepressible as life itself. Link sunk to his knees, shadows sneaking in from his eyes. His head was nestled against the charred ground, surrounded by the quiet voice of death, destruction, and renewed hope... ----------------- I woke with a start, rising up from a moment's reprieve. I looked at the clock, realized I'd only fallen asleep for a minute. Closing the booklet I was filling in with numbers that meant nothing to me, I made my way to the water fountain. I rubbed an aching shoulder, took a drink of water to rejuvenate my parched throat, then returned to my desk. I looked at my clock again, willing time to move on. I was beginning to feel sick again, migraine's hands squeezing against my head oppressively. I sighed. It was going to be a long day.
4 I smelled the fumes of burning gasoline, was repulsed by the smoke, and decided that it was a fine day to walk. Work had finally passed, but my migraine was only growing more and more puissant, despite the painkillers I had guzzled. They had made me drowsy, yet seemed to do nothing for the pain between my ears, the ringing that seemed omnipresent. I could barely hear my own thoughts. The clamor of the streets, of honking horns and yelling people only made it worse. Still, I would not brave the claustrophobia of the bus. I looked up, was surprised to see a break in the layer of thick pollution. Rays of gold broke through, bathing the filth, the down trodden, with life. It was not often that we were blessed with actual sunlight in the city, coming down only after the heaviest of rains or the swiftest of winds. Still, I took comfort where I could, drank in the sight of orange tickling at blades of grass. The corners of my mouth lifted. I was surprised by how much I had been smiling in the past week. Despite what had happened, these days had been the best in years. A rapture was beginning. I felt warmth return to my otherwise empty life, no longer governed by apathy. I remembered the dreams I'd once had, of falling away into a fantasy land, joined only by those closest to me. Perhaps that first wish had not been fulfilled, but I was content knowing that, though we'd not truly spent time together for years, Zosia, Shaw, and I were still the same, small children we had once been. We had not forgotten. I'd arrived at my doorstep before I had realized, nearly walking into the door. I had hardly noticed the passing of time, though hours had passed; the sun was nearly gone, just barely peeking over the horizon. I admired the door for a moment, only now just coming to know how much I missed the comfort of my own home. Sliding the key into the doorway, I did not hear the clack of the bolt. Shaw must have gotten out of work early. Taking off my coat, I slid it into a closet, my eyes already adjusted to the dark. Walking over to the pantry, I grabbed a bottle of pain killers and dumped out a small pile into my open palm. I left the lights off, knowing that the light would only hurt. Tossing the capsules into my mouth, I drank straight from the faucet, tasting the metallic quality in the water. I wiped my mouth and turned around, eyes fixated on where I had come in. There weren't any shoes by the door. No mud tracks, no jacket tossed on the floor. Not one of the million things he did to bother me. Everything was in order, put back just as I had left it. My mind tried to rationalize what was going on, failed as my heartbeats began to get louder and louder. Everything was the same, yet not the same. I swept my finger across the the knob of one of the drawers in the kitchen. No dust. My hand crept into the draw silently, grabbed a knife. My hand grabbed it with practiced ease, as if it had always been there, though I hardly even noticed what I was doing. I crouched low, my knees crackling ever so slightly as I crept across the wooden floor. I stepped gingerly across every board, avoiding the dreaded squeaky board. I could smell the faintest scent of cigar, saw the slight traces of black shoe polish in the carpet. Someone wealthy and well dressed, and clearly practiced in searching for something. Either door to door salesmen were becoming much more forward, or someone had hired a professional snoop. I supposed that, at this point, it didn't matter what they had been looking for. I followed the hints and clues towards my study, watching for shadows in the light cast by my night lamp. Something had come over me, gave me strength. I reacted instinctively, grabbing a pair of scissors that I had discarded unceremoniously just days before. I jammed it into a wall socket, heard the satisfying pop. My nightlight flickered and died. My soft soled shoes barely made a sound against the carpet, but every crinkle made me cringe. As I got closer, I felt my heartbeat calm, felt my resolve steel. I bounced off of my back foot, sped through the doorway. I sensed the change in the air, knew that I had to move fast. I do not know from where my strength came, only that it wasn't from me. Like a puppet on a string, I span around, crouching low, looked up to see that there was a gun pointed where my head had just been. The knife followed suit, slicing through a hamstring, just as I began to rise up. I felt the sticky wetness of blood splash up against my hand, felt a strange elation at the thought of what I had done, what I was about to do. The gun fired, but it could not jar me from my trance. It missed entirely, though I felt a strange wind pass by my ear. I watched as my left hand shot out and grasped the hand holding the gun, watched as my other hand sliced the tendon of the man's wrist. I felt the same rush of pleasure, my face scrunching into a wry grin. I was horrified, repulsed, and yet altogether satisfied with myself. The man stumbled back, fell to the ground. His protests and screams fell silently on my ears. As he died in my arms, shivering, I could feel only ecstasy as his body crumpled on top of me. When the deed was finished, I blinked my eyes. Blinked again. And again. Then wheeled backwards, slowly, looked at the body in front of me, then at my hands. My godforsaken, bloody hands. I was no longer smiling, my expression now one of abject terror. Thump! My heart thundered with the return of my conscience. I clutched at my shirt, tried to tear my own skin off, tried to shed this monstrous body. My heart became louder, assaulting my ears with an unrelenting barrage. I crumpled, gasping for air. And, in my last few moments of consciousness, I heard the click of a flashlight, saw a figure standing over me. “Oh. Fuck.” ---- What does it mean to be a hero? Charred wood crackled beneath tired feet, the only sound made as the children stood on the battlefield. And yet, their eyes were full of determination, full of hope. They had suffered immeasurably, and they had not been broken. Moisture wet the boy's face as he watched life continue its struggle against catastrophe. Is it the act of saving, or of self-sacrifice? The mourning were outnumbered by the dead. Those, who could still find the strength within themselves, covered their beloved in whatever cloth they could find. Bedsheets enveloped their owners for the last time. The lost looked even more like children, their small, broken bodies hidden under the sheets as if they would wake up from the nightmare. They would never wake again. Is it the strength to carry on? The green-haired girl worked tirelessly, a beacon of hope to her people. She had no time for tears, not while the living still stood. Her hands bled through bandages, painting white cloth a grim crimson. But the people did not notice the grime, the filth that covered every inch of the forest. They saw only the wake left by war. The boy watched as the lay the bodies upon a wooden structure, that, too, was blemished with bloody hand prints. Or is it something more powerful, something mysterious, that we cannot begin to fathom? Day had passed into night, and at day's end, their work was done. Link watched gray ashes flit across the air, fires burning once again. Wood and bone burned as one, the flames of war replaced by those of sorrow. And, when the embers glowed their last, the children would return to the earth, where they had always belonged. Foreign words came unbidden from his mouth. “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. We are nothing more than ashes, and to the dust we shall return.” He did not know from whence they came, only that they felt right. He could not turn his gaze from the funeral pyre, the flames burning a shadowy dance in his eyes. Memories came onto him slowly, of this time, and another time, his heart recalling those he had held dear. His eyes glazed over, losing their focus. Shadow puppets, of a different kind, waltzed with sprites of flame, calling him back... Chapel... ---- “Chapel!” Someone said, shaking my shoulder vigorously. “Stay with us, dammit!” a voice boomed in my ear. I could not concentrate, could not identify who was speaking. My eyes threatened to close again, spots of light flashing behind my eyelids. I was shaken again, harder this time. My eyes fluttered angrily, darkness still trying to take me over. “... Code... last hope... save... them... save... me.” Words spewed from my mouth incoherently. I heard yelling, the sound of rushing vehicles, saw the flickering of streetlamps speeding by. Though I could barely move, my hand reached up to the fog covered window, tracing a triangle into the ethereal canvas, then slumped back to my side. The corners of my mouth twitched in a sad, mournful smile. I fell back into the abyss, to the land of nightmares... ---- He blinked once, twice, a last time. Link looked into green eyes, realized that she had been looking at him. He looked down, could not meet her straight gaze. Where had that heroic spirit gone, the one who had charged fearlessly into the flames of hell? His fists clenched and unclenched, his knuckles crackling as they shook. He smiled ruefully. He had not changed. In all his years, he had always been the same. Never had he once stopped himself, thought to think of the consequences of his actions. He looked at his hands, looked at them for what seemed the first time in ages. It was all there, every wrinkle and crease, every formed callous. Every crimson bloodstain, every pleading look of the unknown dead, every soul claimed in his bloody wake. They were all their, their marks left within the lines of his palm, an omen of despair and destruction. Why had he never remembered them? He had not wanted to. He could not deny it. In his struggle against Ganondorf, he had forgotten the people, had forgotten why he'd become a hero in the first place. What did that word, “hero”, mean? Link had forgotten that, too. Was it courage? No. Courage was an illusion, a way to fulfill selfish goals born of hate and anger. How many people had he left to rot, under the guise of courage? Link watched as the fire blazed on, feeling waves of heat wash over him as wood cracked and broke. He watched the ashes of the people drift into the air, recalled their faces. Only a drop in the river styx. He could barely stand under the weight, despair's tendrils grasping at his knees. He looked at Saria, found only expectant patience in her gleaming eyes. She would not understand; to her, he was still a hero, worthy of her admiration. Even though he had forsaken her people, had left them to die. Even though he had not been able protect the forest against the darkness. And in that moment, he hated her, in all her naivety. How could she not see what so clearly stood in front of her? “I am the nightmare.” ---- I woke from gentle, comforting sleep. My dreams had been peaceful this time. Yet my heart ached as I sat up, beating strongly in my chest. I listened to my body's metronome beat once, twice, again. Perhaps it was fear; fear of what had happened, fear of what could happen, fear of what I had become. I looked at my bloodstained hands, realizing that they needed to be washed. But I knew that the red stain would never leave my skin. I looked around, realized that I wasn't in my own home, was sleeping within a foreign bed. “Hello?” I said meekly to the darkness, hoping that it would not answer me. I flicked on the lamp next to me, clamored out of bed. Looking at the bedsheets, I was surprised to see that no blood had been left behind. It had all dried, now an ugly brown on my shirt. How long had I been out? I walked across stained, motel carpet, smelling the musty scent of mold. Stepping into the vinyl-floored bathroom, I turned the water on, letting the coolness wash over my hands for a moment. I looked at myself in the mirror, seeing myself for the first time in days. Strange, how I seemed to have changed. I was clearly sleep deprived, dark blue bags settling deeply under my eyes. The shine of my green eyes seemed tarnished, missing the glint of youth. My hair was oily and disheveled, and was a dull brown. I needed a bath. I sat back on the spring bed, pondered where exactly I was as the bath filled. I tried to think back, tried to make myself remember what exactly had happened. I watched myself sink the knife into the man's chest with a certain detachment, telling myself that it had been necessary, that I had not found pleasure in the act of it. I tried to convince myself that the man was still alive, that I had killed him. Yet, somewhere in the recesses of my heart, I knew that his life had ended in my arms, his heart fluttering its last. I had felt his life slip away, like a fish in water. Shutting my eyes, I squeezed my balled fists against my eyes, tried to eradicate all thought. As I saw myself slump to the floor, I realized that I had not been alone. As I remembered the simple two words, I knew who had been there with me. Shaw. He'd come home early, had probably seen everything that I had done. Had watched me kill and take pleasure. I felt my heart tighten as I thought about it. Unclenching my hands, I walked to the bathroom, my mind blazing with questions. But, looking around, I saw no trace of him. Where was he? I asked myself, feeling warmth surge through nervous, cold muscles. I sank into the water, let the heat and steam pervade my mind. My chest collapsed as I let my breath escape. Though I felt some calm return to me, I couldn't help but ask questions of myself. “Why me?” to no one in particular. It seemed cliché. I couldn't recall how many times I had heard that same phrase dozens of time before. But here I was. Chance, or perhaps something darker, had irrevocably changed me. Gears were beginning to turn; not only in me, but all around me. I thought back to when this had all begun, the day that fire had surged through my body. I still ached, though this was an ache of a different kind. Perhaps it was my bones, sensing that the wheels of fate were moving, that I was caught within their deadly countdown. Blip! I waited in the bath tub, watched as the bubbles popped, one after another. I sat there until all thoughts had been washed from my mind, funneling down the drain with soapy water. It all seemed unreal to me. No matter how I tried to rationalize it, I could not answer my own question. My head ached from the chaos that had bounced around in my skull. Though the questions had leaked out of the cracks in my head, my ears still rang with pain. Resigning to dull thoughtlessness, I let my towel slide to the floor, threw on a bathrobe that had been left in the closet. I climbed into bed with a heavy sigh, looked around. Still alone. And I would still be, when Shaw came came. He would not understand, could not. I flicked the switch of the lamp, heard its pop reverberate in my eardrums. I let darkness envelop me, the only company I would be able to find... I woke to the sound of strange, warped voices. Shadows played in front of the door. I could not separate the two voices, my fatigue twining the two together. They were whispering, halted my indecision. I looked at the door handle in horror, wondering how they had found me. More questions assaulted me; Had they found me? Were they here to kill me? What did they want from me? As more and more slammed against the gates of my sanity, I began to lose my focus, began to lose control. My hand slid on soft, smooth wood. It grasped around, searching for something it remembered was there. I felt the rasp of paper, then the cool touch of plastic. My fingers slid around it, grasped it hard in my hand. I stepped out from the bed silently, my feet bouncing against the carpet pads. The door handle jiggled as I neared the door, someone clearly trying to force their way in. The voices behind the door became more desperate, more deranged. They became the voices of dark beings, malicious and hateful with each word spoken. I was then possessed with a rage. I blamed them for everything—suddenly, the voices were responsible for everything that had happened to me. They had caused this madness to descend, had chosen me. They were the reason that I had fallen in the street. They were the source of my deepest nightmares, that had plagued me since this had all begun. They were responsible for the blood on my hands, the shiver of my spine, the abomination that was growing inside of me. I had to be rid of them. Light exploded from a tiny crack, then a gaping hole as the door swung open. I jumped forward, driven by blinding, white hatred. I registered nothing; I could not see them. To me, they appeared as great shadows, looming in the corridors of my mind. I was the hero, banishing the darkness with the light. My hand descended, wielding the sword of vengeance. The first figure screamed, fell backwards. The second surged forth, its swirling mists threatening to overtake me. They yelled at me angrily, their protests silent against the angry buzzing of my ears. I growled, looked at the shadow venomously. They would not stop me. No matter how they begged, I would feel them flee this place, flee my heart and soul. I lunged forward again, aiming to stab the shadow in front of me within his breast. A hand shot forth, grabbed my arm. I watched in anger and impotence as the shadow grabbed my arm, twisted it around. I dropped my sword, its tip clattering to the ground. Then I was in the air, gasping for breath, looking up at the night sky. I tried to look at the face of defeat, could find nothing their. My fingers tore at clinging shadows, but could not remove them. As I was suffocated by its tendrils, I had one last question for myself; had the darkness finally won? So the Hero falls into madness once again...
Looking good so far Willow! I'm a bit confused as to what's going on, but I like the overall plot so far and especially the setting.
