Veritas

Small wooden feet echoed against marble floors, the steady beats resounding through the pillars. Stone pillars rose high, far beyond what the eye could see, engulfed in a deep and endless darkness above. His cloak murmured softly against the ground, rough cloth dancing against the impossibly smooth tiles. There was no obvious path through the stone forest, though his heart knew the way. No torches, no tool of flame, lit his path, though golden sparks floated around him, parting in his presence. Had the Deku not inspected them closer, he might have guessed they were fairies frozen in time. He reached a hand out, brushing against a spark, sending it careening into others. They seemed to float on forever, throwing others of their kin into tumult and chaos. He smiled inwardly, unable to physically do so, his face frozen in a permanent expression of astonishment. Still the old wounds lingered, still the thoughts of old plagued him, though the deep gash on his forehead no longer ached.

There were other wounds that were far deeper. His life was one of continual loss, as if fate had decreed that he would see all that he loved blossom, then die before him. First was his family, and though the burnt bark had faded since, his heart remained seared. Another time, another life, yet the same story. As evil had fallen upon the Kokiri Woods, he had stood against the darkness, his son at his side. Now, he too was dead. It was pain that had finally driven him here, pain and an unquenchable thirst for power. Power both for revenge against those that had wronged him, and power to protect the loved ones that still remained. There was a young Deku, headstrong but naive, who had yet to become embittered of the world. There was a Kokiri boy just as scarred as himself, but strong, too. And there was Guy, more than the Deku's brother, not by blood, but in bond. Dante chuckled at himself; of all people, Guy needed no protection. Nevertheless, Dante sought power so that if the time ever came, he would be ready.

Emerging from a golden cloud of light, Dante arrived at his destination. It was a circular court, devoid of pillars. Instead of floating lights, three golden triangles glowed from the floor, forming the holy symbol. The points of the Triforce touched the edge of the circle, twelve smaller circles surrounding the larger. At each point of the Triforce was a circle containing the symbol of each goddess, Din, Nayru, and Farore. Yet, save for one circle, every other was empty. In a circle below the middle of the base of the Triforce was a fourth symbol; it was a bloody fist, wreathed in thorns, a symbol for war and battle. Stepping to the center empty triangle, Dante fell to one knee, head bowed.

"I was called here, once." He began, his voice quiet, yet loud enough to still be heard. "My presence was requested in a grand tournament, in which the greatest warriors participated." He paused for a moment, closing his eyes, choosing his next words carefully. "I was not ready then. But I am here now." Raising his head, he peered into the distant darkness, addressing something both present and not. "I know that I have not the strength, wisdom, nor courage to make demands, or even a simple request. Nor do I have any measure of fame across the lands. But I ask of you this; Give me but a moment of your time. Send men or monsters for me, and I will show you every modicum of strength I can muster." Flames raged in his eyes, his heart ablaze with fire. "Grant me this gauntlet, and I will fight with the core of my soul, my veritas. And whether I live or die, I promise that my name will be one to remember, that I will find greater strength in the coming battles."