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fuckit-hero-of-trains · 5 years ago

Text

Alone Together Ch 5

ao3 link:https://archiveofourown.org/works/22311754/chapters/56421904

Chapter Summary:

The shadowy memory from before surfaces behind his eyes once more and the itching in his brain multiplies ten fold.

The darkness. The fear. The water. That blasted sound.

But he can’t remember.

“I can’t place it,” Twilight says again, feeling helpless. “But I know whatever it is, it isn't good.”

Or: A series of fics centered on Four and his interactions, inside and out.

His heart is pounding.

He can feel his pulse all throughout his body, slamming away in his wrists, pulsing in his throat.

The poor muscle in his chest beats at a rabbit’s pace, its frantic thud thud thud crashing rhythmically into his ribs. Blood roars in his ears, blocking out anything and everything else except for the staccato feedback of his own arteries.

His body feels alive, hair standing on end, fingers shaking as they minutely clench and unclench, his eyes wide, taking in every detail.

The thrill of the hunt.

Yet, despite the coiling of his muscles and the racing of his heart, Twilight’s breaths are slow and controlled. Each lungful is carefully measured, in through the nose and out through the mouth.

Silent. He needs to be silent, lest his quarry detect him.

He takes an excruciatingly slow step forward, his knee almost creaking with the effort of remaining still. Slowly, ever so slowly, he places his foot on the ground before gradually leaning weight onto it.

The dry grass crunches quietly beneath his boot. His prey doesn't seem to notice. Perfect.

Keeping his eyes on the target, Twilight lowers himself into position–one leg braced behind, the other in front– ready to pounce.

His hands feel clammy, but he doesn't dare move to wipe the perspiration away on his tunic or pants.

Gray-blue eyes flick back and forth between booted feet and the prize, calculations running through the farmhand’s head. Distance, power,but not too much power, reaction time; all of it needs to be accounted for.

He’s only got one shot at this.

A controlled breath. Another. And another.

The wind shifts directions, making the speed of Twilight’s heart ratchet up even faster.

It’s now or never.

So, heart singing, thoughts racing, and blood turning icy in his stomach, the Hero of Twilight lunges forward.

He lands hard on his elbows and stomach, his leather arm guards clacking unhappily against the ground as his full weight bears down on the light armor. The air in his lungs wheezes out from between his lips at the force of the fall and he can feel mud seeping into the stomach of his tunic. Painful tingles race up one of his arms; he must have hit his funny bone.

But he doesn't let any of that phase him, a triumphant grin spreading over his face

Extended out in front of his head, his arms lay outstretched in the mud. A faint glowing light seeps from between his lightly clasped fingers. A slight tingling sensation tickles against his palm as a too small body scuttles around, confirming his catch.

Gotcha!

“Are you done making a fool of yourself over there?” calls a flat voice. Mocking. Legend.

Twilight ignores him, the joy of having finally caught the sparkling bug too warm in his chest for someone to rain on that easily.

Carefully, using his elbows, Twilight slowly levers himself onto his knees and then leans back onto his feet, bug still held safely within softly cupped hands. He turns back to the others, a grin on his face.

A little ways back, Wild and Wind erupt into whoops of success at Twilight’s catch.

Wind had been the one to spot the little insect, and though Twilight had insisted that the two of them stay back while he caught it–even with the Sheikah Armor on and Wind’s supposed stealth experience, the two together were incapable of sneaking up on a deaf bat–they were very excited about the positive result.

Past the two celebrating blondes, resting in the shade of a large, oak tree, Legend and Warriors look on in unimpressed silence and mild interest respectively.

Behind them, Sky is leaned up against the side of the oak, head thrown back against the bark in the throes of a much needed midday nap. Next to the Chosen Hero, Time is in a similar state, legs stretched out, arms crossed, and chin to chest, breathing slowly.

He had said he was just going to ‘rest his eyes’ but Twilight knew that was old man speak for taking a quick five minute nap. Rusl always said the same thing after a good hunt, settling down on the couch one second, and out like a light the next.

Typical.

Beside the two napping heroes, Four and Hyrule sit together, the former with his nose in a book while the latter sits straight spined, eyes closed. Meditating, Hyrule had called it.

“Wild,” Twilight calls, striding back toward the shade of the tree, toward the other heroes. “Can you grab the cloth covered bottle from my bag?”

The teen nods, quickly scurrying to the leather satchel, rustling through it for a moment, before making a soft sound of success as he pulls the glass bottle out of its confines. Container in hand, the scarred hero hurries back over, unscrewing the metal clasp as he walks and removing the hole punched cloth top as he holds the bottle under Twilight’s still cupped hands.

Out of the corner of his eye, Twilight sees Wind edge closer to the two of them, peering into the bottle as the older hero carefully opens up his fingers, allowing his prize to drop into the leaf filled glass. Then, as soon as he’s sure the creature is safely within, the farmhand pulls the cloth back over the lid and screws the metal band back into place.

He takes the bottle from Wild’s hand, careful not to jostle it too much, and holds it in a single palm, letting the two teens look into the container without any obstructions.

Within, a golden grasshopper sits, using one extremely long leg to swipe at its antennae, a faint orange-ish pink glow emanating from it’s tiny body.

“Cool!” Wind breathes, big round eyes glinting in the soft light.

“What kinda potion are you gonna brew with it?” Wild asks, face just as awed as the sailor’s

Both Twilight and Wind turn toward the champion, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and–at least in Twilight’s case– a mighty helping of genuine concern.

“What?” the farmhand sputters.

“C’mon, don’t hold out on me,” Wild says, his smile growing. “That looks like a pretty rare bug. I bet you could brew something really powerful with it!” He peers back into the side of the bottle, giving the grasshopper a considering look. “A Hearty elixir maybe based on the glow? Or an Energizing one ‘cause it's a grasshopper?”

Twilight pulls the jar close to his chest, away from Wild’s line of sight.

“I’m not using it in a potion!” he replies, voice going a little high with indignation.

“Then why didyou catch it?” Warriors asks, butting into their conversation with all the grace of an Ordonian goat. Which is to say, none.

“Don’t squash our Twilight’s dreams of being an etymologist, Warriors,” Legend cuts in before Twilight can justify himself. “So what if he wants to look at bugs when he grows up all big and strong? It's his passion,” he says, voice scolding but words snarky and playful.

Twilight rolls his eyes.

“I believe the word you’re looking for, Legend, is entomologist,” Four interjects without looking up from his book. “Entomology is the study of bugs. Etymology is the study of the history and development of words.”

“I’m assuming you study the latter, then,” Legend replies with a huff.

Four doesn’t respond, though he does turn another page in his book probably more loudly than is strictly necessary. Next to him, one of Hyrule’s closed eyes twitches, a smile pulling at his face, concentration broken.

“I caught it,” Twilight starts, forcing the conversation back on track, “because a friend of mine in Castle Town runs an insect conservation project. Golden bugs like these are becoming more and more rare throughout Hyrule, so I’ve been catching male and female pairs for her to take care of and breed.”

Wind makes a face at that.

“While I’m not great at telling the difference,” Twilight continues, regardless of the younger’s reaction, “I’m pretty sure this one is a female. Hopefully I can get her to my friend before we switch again.”

“Good,” Warriors says with a sage nod, “It’s not polite to keep a lady waiting. Especially one with such a powerful parasol.”

Twilight feels his face screw up in confusion, staring at the scarf wearing hero for a second. How Warriors knew Agatha was female, let alone carried a parasol everywhere she went was beyond him.

Warriors was just... like that sometimes.

The captain just seemed toknowabout some of their worlds, the knowledge rolling of the Pretty Boy’s tongue like it was no big whoop to have intimate knowledge off vastly different locations and time periods.

What made it even weirder was the type of information the soldier knew. Not big historical events or even exaggerated, folktale accounts. No. What Warriors knew of their worlds was often extremely niche, utterly unimportant little details. Stuff he couldn't just read in a history textbook.

It was mind boggling.

Twilight stares at the other a moment longer, and when Warriors doesn't elaborate or explain– in fact he gives Twilight a shit eating grin that tells the pelt wearing hero that the captain knows exactly what he's doing– lets the line of thought drop with a sigh.

A problem better left for another day.

A loud, long inhale sends all of the heroes’ eyes back toward the trunk of the oak tree.

Apparently, their conversation had been loud enough to rouse Time, whose chin rises from his chest as he blinks the last of the post nap sand from his eye.

As the Old Man stands and stretches, Twilight stows the jar back inside his bag, careful to put the glass container in the most secure part of his leather satchel before turning to his mentor.

With a nod and a significant look from their leader, the others begin to pack up their gear.

Their rest is over.

“You said the town was close?” Time asks, stepping closer to Twilight, an attempt to give themselves the air of privacy despite the fact that Twilight knows the others are listening in, if their perked ears are any indication.

“We’re not far from Kakariko now,” Twilight replies with a nod. “Just a little further south. The canyon should be coming into view soon.”

“Good. And you think this shamin…” Time pauses, the name obviously escaping him.

“Renado,” Twilight prompts with a quirk of his lips. “Memory going already, Old Man?”

Time waves him away, a glare without heat lighting up one eye.

“You think Renado may have some information for us?”

“If not him, then the Resistance might have something.”

The older hero wrinkles his nose at the name of the group.

“I'll explain later,” Twilight assures. “They’re harmless, but they do have a good network of information. If something is happening in this Hyrule, they’ll know about it.”

“Then we should get moving,” Time says with a decisive nod. And then, with a faint quirk to his lips, “But first, we need to decide who’s going to wake up The Beast.”

Six pairs of interested ears suddenly lower, no longer so intent on the conversation anymore.

The sound of packing gets louder.

Twilight can’t help himself. He laughs.

…

Hyrule ends up drawing the short stick this time, rousing the very groggy Sky with minimal injury, much to everyone else’s awe and envy. Apparently, damn near everyone had a soft spot for the traveling hero, including the infamously grouchy ‘Post Nap Sky.’

With that debacle taken care of, the group gets back on the road, making their way over the rolling green hills of East Hyrule Field.

It's a beautiful day Twilight notes with a growing lightness in his chest.

The sky is a bright, cornflower blue interspaced with fluffy, white clouds. The sun hangs high above their heads providing ample warmth while a faint breeze rolls over the hills, keeping the group of heroes from overheating.

The air is fresh and clean, smelling of grass and dirt, with the faintest promise of a storm despite the perfect weather.

Perhaps only Twilight can pick up on the last bit, but he doesn't mind the extra information. It’s saved his ass more than once.

Though, it wasn't always such an accessible tool in his wheelhouse, so to speak.

When he first transformed back into a Hylian after his involuntary stint as a wolf, the world was… off. Off center, off kilter, just plain off.

The Faron Woods, a place he had been traveling to, exploring, playing in all his life, was transformed into a foreign sensory deathtrap. The smell of greenery and dirt and warm water was so cloying, the farmhand could have sworn he was drowning in swamp sludge. Around him, birds were chattering, the wind was blowing, seemingly shifting through every single leaf in the forest as the deku babas snapped their jaws in sickening ragtime, a deafening cacophony.

It was...overwhelming. Maybe even more so than the massive, translucent light spirit in the shape of a monkey telling he was the hero of destiny.

Overtime, Twilight got a handle on his senses until they simply edged at his consciousness, hints of something that was more than his hylian senses could ever detect before, but definitely duller than the sharp accuracy he could achieve as a canine

Now, most of the time these little snippets of his wolf senses were helpful, like when they allowed him to see better than the others at night, providing better security.

Other times, they were annoying, like when Warriors had found some shitty cologne at a market and wore it for three days straight before Twilight could stealthily steal the bottle and throw it down the nearest ravine.

Speaking of ravines...

“Wild, Four, look how deep this canyon is!” Hyrule says, scurrying close to the edge of the cliff, gazing down into its depths with a look that borders on childlike wonder.

Wild jogs up next to the other teen and leans precariously over the lip of the canyon. He lets out an appreciative whistle at the sight, grinning as the sound echoes back seconds later

With a quick hand, Wild swipes his Sheikah Slate from his belt and with a click, a glowing blue bomb materializes in his other hand. “Let's see how long it takes this thing to hit the ground!” he says with a grin.

“Please back away from the edge,” Four huffs before Twilight can get the chance to do so, the smithy standing with his hands on his hips at least five feet back from where the others are. “You don't know how stable that ground is.”

Twilight feels his lips tick upward at smaller teen’s words.

At least one of their younger members has some common sense.

Hyrule has the decency to look a little sheepish as he takes a step away from the canyon. Wild, meanwhile, gives Four a flat look, obviously displeased that, for once, someone other than Twilight is raining on his parade.

“C’mon Smithy, where’s your sense of adventure?” he says with a roll of his eyes. “Aren’t we supposed to do stuff like this? Hero of Courage and all that?”

Four’s right eye twitches minutely, the blue sky reflected in its depths.

“I don't need the Triforce of Wisdom to know that what you’re doing is unnecessarily reckless. We’re the Hero of Courage, not the Hero of Dying Stupid Deaths.”

Wild rolls his eyes, but thankfully steps away from the edge as well, spherical bomb flashing back into non-existence as he does.

“Buzzkill,” the champion mutters as he stalks grumpily over to Twilight’s side.

As soon as he’s in range, the pelt wearing hero throws an arm around his neck, dragging him into a headlock, successfully pulling Wild even farther away from the canyon. Twilight hauls the struggling teen forward, back on the path toward Kakariko.

“Why don’t I tell you guys about that canyon as we walk?” Twilight offers placatingly once he's done grinding a fist into the top of the champion’s head.

Hyrule nods emphatically at the offer, big hazel eyes bright with curiosity. Wild, meanwhile, places his hands on Twilight’s back and heaves, wrenching his head from the rancher’s grip. Free once more, the champion mirrors the traveling hero’s look of eagerness, eyes bright, hair completely mussed.

Twilight laughs at their excited faces and continues to walk forward, forcing the boys to catch up if they want to hear his tales.

They do have a schedule to keep, after all.

Wild quickly falls into step on the Ordonian’s left while Hyrule slots into place on his right as they head toward the canyon that will lead them to Kakariko. Four takes up a position on Hyrule’s other side, not as entranced as the other two, but eager enough for information to include himself as well.

Once he's got all eyes on him, Twilight launches into a brief lecture of the formation of the canyon, starting with an old folktale before reciting Rusl’s old words about sandstone and tributary rivers to Lake Hylia.

As the sentences flow from his mouth on auto pilot– an explanation given to him years ago that he repeated for the kids, for Iliya, for her– Twilight feels himself smile.

Wild drinks in Twilight’s words like he’s dying of thirst. The champion had been so excited when the Ordonian had announced that they were in his Hyrule, eyes immediately flashing every which direction to catch anything and everything.

“You’ve seen all of my home,” Wild had said, an excited smile in place. “Now I get to see all of yours!”

Hyrule looks equally happy at the knowledge. Twilight doesn't know as much about the brunette teen as he does about Wild, but one thing the pelt wearing hero can say for certain is that their senses of adventure were the same.

From what Twilight had heard of Legend’s scoldings sessions with the traveling hero whenever the younger would get lost, the teen always wanted to see what was just over the crest of the next hill. Wild was much the same, climbing to insane heights, spotting something in the distance, and then running–or gliding– headfirst into it, regardless of whatever task or job he had been working toward before.

It was an admirable trait, their curiosity. They had a thirst for knowledge, for the unknown, for adventure. It was endearing, if not extremely annoying for those trying to keep track of the teens.

“There’s actually an attraction that runs in the river down there,” Twilight continues, his words suddenly catching back up to him.

“What kind of attraction?” Hyrule asks, brows furrowed and head tilted, like he can’t even fathom the concept.

Twilight elbows Wild lightly, a soft laugh jumping from his lips.

“One that I’m sure our Champion here would love,” he replies. “It’s called Iza’s Rapid Ride. The goal is to use bomb arrows to destroy as many targets as possible while steering a canoe down a series of rapids.”

“That sounds awesome,” Wild and– to Twilight’s extreme surprise– Four say at the same time. All three of them turn to their smallest companion, faces colored with varying shades of disbelief.

Four, in turn, looks just as surprised at what slipped out of his mouth as they do. His eyes blink rapidly in confusion, the light catching them differently every other second until Twilight isn’t even sure what color the younger's eyes actually are.

The smithy’s head gives a slight shake and then angles downward, his jaw clenching and unclenching, chewing on unspoken words.

“If not extremely dangerous,” Four adds finally, looking uncomfortable as he stares at his shuffling feet.

Wild accepts the other’s words easily enough, quickly moving on to detailing what his strategy for such an attraction would be to Hyrule.

For his part, the traveling hero lets his eyes linger on Four a second longer before he is drawn into Wild’s crazy plan of using his slate to freeze the boat in time in the river so I can hit all the targets, Wild that's cheating, He didn’t say I couldn't, I mean yeah but I don't think...

Twilight though… Twilight eyes the smallest hero as they continue their trek.

The boy is silent once again, gaze locked on his feet as his hair hangs down around his face, a golden curtain blocking out the rest of the world.

To Twilight, it is a painfully familiar sight.

Colin does the same thing whenever he feels he has said something the other kids wont like.

Sometimes, it surprises Twilight how much of Colin he could see in Four.

Maybe it was just the hair and the big round eyes, but the Ordonian hero couldn’t help but draw parallels between the two.

Like the timid boy, Four often went with the flow of the other heroes, tagging along behind their more outgoing and outspoken party members, a mirror of Colin’s relationship with the other Ordonian children.

That wasn't to say Four was a pushover; the teen was confident in himself and his abilities, the little hero’s skill with a blade unquestionable and his discipline with the hammer and tongs a marvel. He was more than willing to speak his mind or outright call out dumb ideas if he saw them– case in point, earlier– but more often than not, the smithy was a passive figure in their menagerie of big personalities. Never the one to initiate conversation.

However, while he was never the one to start a dialogue, Four was always open and willing to listen to anyone and everyone who talked to him, just like Colin. He was attentive, seemingly going through each word someone said with a fine toothed comb, teasing out the implications of every syllable, just like Colin

Hylia, he was even the same size as Colin now that the boy had gone through a bit of a growth spurt. Slap a green headband on the Ordonian boy, and from behind, you might even be able to mistake one for the other.

Not to mention–

The resonant blast of a horn yanks Twilight from his thoughts and back into his body abruptly.

The sound echoes across the field, low and growling and Twilight’s feet freeze underneath him as his head whips back and forth. The farmhand can feel the three teens next to him sending him quizzical looks as his search becomes more and more frantic, but he ignores them, anxiety pumping through his veins, clawing at his intestines.

That noise. The horn. It’s sofamiliar, but his memory is foggy in his mind. Smokey and full of shadow, no definite shapes or colors.

And yet, that blaring noise pierces through the impenetrable fuzz, the only part of the recollection that is clear to him.

He remembers…

He remembers...

He remembers darkness. He remembers fear. Fear and water. Water on his face, water up his nose and water in his lungs. He remembers a pain in his head and that damned sound echoing in his ears, making his skull feel like it was shattering slowly.

He remembers… he remembers...

“In coming!” shouts a voice from behind them.

The half formed memory fades back into shadow as Twilight whirls around toward the others, his sword already in hand. The three teens beside the farmhand mirror him, falling into battle stances of their own.

Black bodies drop from the sky, the sound of birdlike screeches wrenching through the air and drowning out the last echoes of the horn as seven pairs of leathery wings flap in deafening unison. Twilight barely manages to bring his blade up fast enough to block a pair of claws from scoring across his face.

“Kargarocs!” he shouts, heaving his sword from the screaming beast’s grasp, dealing a slash to its legs.

The winged monster lets out a squawk of protest as it flaps its wings, desperate to pull itself out of range of Twilight’s sword.

With three powerful wing beats, the Kargaroc successfully launches itself into the air. It wheels for a moment, simply circling him like a vulture would, before it folds its wings in and dives, talons outstretched

“Oh no you don’t!” Wild hisses next to Twilight, bow out and an ice arrow knocked in the string. With a twang, the arrow flies, singing through the air for a moment before it strikes home; freezing the left wing of the Kargaroc.

The beast lets out a scream of pain as it spirals to the ground, thrown off course by the weight of the ice. It slams into the dirt with a sickening crunch, its voice dying out as it erupts into black and orange smoke.

Another screech from Twilight’s left has his head whipping to the side in time to catch another Kargaroc swooping toward Wild’s back with talons outstretched.

An odd whiffling sound passes by Twilight’s ear and suddenly a blur of yellow whips toward the beast, cracking into the head of the bird-like creature, sending it wide of Wild by at least a few feet.

Having hit it’s target, the shape– a boomerang, Twilight notes– arcs back around, flying behind the pelt wearing hero’s head and landing with a smack in Four’s outstretched hand.

“Go help the others,” the teen grits, readying another throw as Hyrule slides into an offensive stance, knees bent, silver blade steady. “We’ve got this one.”

Twilight nods, watching only a moment longer as Four lets the boomerang fly once more. The Kargaroc, having risen back into the air, swerves to avoid it, diving to dodge the whirling wooden weapon. Miraculously, the boomerang follows the bird, forcing the beast lower and lower and lower, straight into the honed point of Hyrule’s sword.

It lets out a screech as the traveling hero’s blade slashes into the soft skin below its wattle.

Right, Twilight thinks, catching Wild’s eyes as they both turn and run toward where the others are. Those two definitely don't need help.

The rest of the heroes, however, do.

In a mass of black wings and talons, five of the flying menaces mob the others, a chaotic flurry of beaks, claws, and swords, all packed together in too small a space for any true combat to break out.

As he runs to their aid, Twilight isn't sure exactly how he's going to attack without accidentally hitting one of the others until...

Suddenly, there is a flash of cobalt fabric and one of the beasts pulls away from the rest, a distinctive scarf caught in its claws.

With two big wingbeats and a yank, Warriors is fished from the mayhem of black bodies, his clear blue eyes fire bright and wild as he claws at the keepsake that is quickly tightening into a vice around his throat.

With another harsh pull, the Kargaroc drags Warriors to his knees a good five feet away from the others and then releases the fabric, diving toward the now prone hero.

Twilight lunges forward, claws punching into his shield rather than through Warriors’ chest. Leathery wings batter the sides of the Ordonian’s head as the Kargaroc struggles against him, desperate for its talons to find their target.

With a grunt of effort, the farmhand manages to shove the squawking monster away, giving Warriors the precious seconds it takes to ready himself.

A woosh of air blasts past their heads, and the creature is back for more, this time swooping low, attempting to stab at their exposed heads with it’s cruelly curved beak.

Warriors fends off the first pass with a wide swipe of his blade, keeping the flying menace from coming within striking distance. Twilight batters away the second attempt, slamming his shield into the beast’s head as it dives.

With an enraged warble, the Kargaroc folds its wings and shoots out its scaled legs, claws clinging to the sides of Twilights shield. It lets out a scream that rings in the farmhand’s ears, too loud, too sharp, and too close as the monster rears back and snaps at him.

A flash of freezing cold air bites at Twilight’s neck, and suddenly, the beak in front of him is encased in ice.

Wild again.

With its head trapped and far heavier than the rest of its body, the Kargoroc drops, releasing the shield, and plummets beak-first into the ground, its wings and feet scrabbling feebly at the ice.

Warriors doesn’t let it struggle for long, plunging his sword into its spine.

“You should really tuck that away during battle,” Twilight says breathlessly, glancing at the scarf trailing behind Warriors as the other stands, pulling his blade from the plume of smoke

“I’m honestly surprised the first thing to go for it was a fucking overgrown bird,” Warriors replies with an huff, adjusting the aformentioned cloth to fit more snugly around his neck.

The crack of a whip snaps through the air, jolting both heroes back into their ready positions.

In the next instant, a body slams into the ground next to Twilight.

Another Kargaroc, this one flailing wildly as it crys bloody murder. A red whip wrapped around the winged beast’s throat making it’s voice come out garbled and pained.

It’s fight halts long enough for beedy, yellow eyes to lock onto the farmhand and suddenly, the creature’s struggles redouble as it fights against it’s bindings, a blood lust that needs to be satisfied gleaming in its gaze.

Before it can pull itself free, a body with a bright blue tunic suddenly throws itself between Twilight and the Kargoroc.

The figure resolves itself into Wind, hefting a hammer that is way too big for the small teen’s hands over one shoulder. With a full bodied motion, the sailor swings the mallet down with enough force to create small shockwaves that jolt up Twilight's legs as he smashes the monster’s skull in.

“Nice one, Sky!” Wind yells as he hoists the mallet back into his arms, eyes already searching for his next target.

The Chosen Hero nods in silent acknowledgment, cracking his whip to free it of the slowly disintegrating body of the Kargaroc. He quickly zeroes in on a target and with another swing of the whip, Sky manages to snare the wing of a second monster.

Monster hooked, the Skyloftian leans back and then pulls with the full strength of both arms, yanking the struggling body to the ground.

Twilight and Warriors both step forward, ready to put the beast out of its misery, but before either can deal the mortal blow, another burst of freezing wind has both heroes stopping short.

Above the struggling Kargaroc, a block of ice condenses from thin air. It grows and grows and grows until a massive, translucent boulder hovers weightless in the air, misting in the noonday sun. It floats for a moment longer before it suddenly plummets to the ground, gravity catching up to it and crushing the beast below its mass.

Behind the now stationary mound of ice, Legend slowly lowers a staff with an angularly cut sapphire on its tip back down to his side. He winks at them, a smug smile pulling at his lips as he stares down Twilight and Warrior’s shocked faces.

“Fucking magic,” Warriors mutters under his breath. Twilight can't help but agree. He was never a fan of the stuff himself.

Twin screeches echo through the air before they are suddenly, and without remorse, cut off.

Turning, Twilight catches the tail end of two puffs of smoke dissipating in the air, Time giving Wild an approving nod as the champion happily flushes at the gesture.

“Sound off!” Time calls as he cranes his neck to spot all of their members.

A chorus of ‘fine’s, ‘here’s, and a particularly snarky ‘present’ respond to his call. No one yells for help or screams for medical attention and slowly, Twilight feels the tension of the battle leave him, his breaths becoming longer and slower as the adrenaline in his veins slowly sputters to a stop.

They group back up, a few sporting minor bruises or a couple of niks here and there, but otherwise, no worse for wear. Hyrule and Legend quickly begin distributing bandages to those with cuts while Wild pulls herbs from his slate. Something to help the pain later, Twilight remembers vaguely.

As the others get themselves patched up, Time strides toward where Twilight and Warriors stand. The Old Man holds out the Biggorn sword for them to inspect.

Orangish-red blood drips down the blade in thick rivets.

“Not infected,” Time says succinctly as he pulls out an old cloth to clean his blade. “Do they usually fight in groups as large as that?”

Twilight shakes his head, confusion bubbling in him.

“The largest group I’ve dealt with before is three.”

Time hums at his words. With a final swipe of the cloth, the sword is freed of the viscera that had been coating it and the older hero sheathes the blade at his side.

“Not infected and yet still acting strangely,” Warriors sumerizes, with a shake of his head.

Both heroes turn to Twilight, questions burning in their eyes.

Unfortunately, the Ordonian hero has none to give.

Except…

“Did you guys hear that horn before they attacked?” Twilight asks, a phantom echo of the sound bouncing around in his skull once more.

Warriors face screws up in confusion, eyes squinted, brows furrowed, and mouth turned down in a befuddled frown. Time, however, straightens.

“What did you hear, Pup?” he asks, single eye flickering over Twilight’s face.

“I...I’m not sure yet,” Twilight admits, a mixture of frustration and shame making his stomach feel full and heavy. Something scratches in the back of his skull. Fear or a warning maybe, but Twilight can’t say for sure. It itches and itches and itches.

The pelt wearing hero kicks a boot into the dirt, his mouth pulling to one side. “I know I’ve heard it before. I just... can’t place it.”

The shadowy memory from before surfaces behind his eyes once more and the itching in his brain multiplies ten fold.

The darkness. The fear. The water. That blasted sound.

But he can’t remember.

A warm hand grips his shoulder and when Twilight looks back up, Time is sending him a look dripping in concern, eye soft as it gazes imploringly at him.

“I can’t place it,” Twilight says again, feeling helpless. “But I know whatever it is, it isn't good.”

…

They enter Kakariko with little fanfare, the good mood from earlier all but dried up after the Kargaroc attack.

Though, Twilight does have to admit, just smelling the dry, dusty air of the village brightens him up a bit, despite the anxiety that still runs rampant through his heart and the itch in the back of his scalp that refuses to abate.

There are more people in Kakariko now than there were when he had first seen the town.

Before, when the skies were a perpetual dreary gray and when the sparks of twilight floated upward through the air like inverse snow, the village had been a literal ghost town, only the spirits of the few survivors left huddled together behind boarded windows and barred doors.

In the years after he had completed his journey, though, Kakariko had flourished. Where once there were empty, dilapidated buildings, now there were homes, freshly painted and open to the streets.

Where there were once quiet, lifeless streets, now there are voices, people, going about their day in the canyon town. Instead of three adults and a handful of scared children, Kakariko is now home to multitudes, families even.

Case in point, Shad and Auru. Though they still met up at Telma’s bar most of the time, the two members of The Resistance now lived in Kakariko permanently, taking up residence in two of the renovated homes.

The Gorons also visited more frequently, their nighttime stalls featuring gems and other Death Mountain goods. Their wears were becoming more popular as word about them spread to the general public.

With the arrival of the Gorons, came trade and cultural exchange. Soon, the old hamlet had become a bit of a tourist destination, an easy way to experience the medicinal and luxurious hot springs of Death Mountain without– well– actually going up Death Mountain.

To accommodate the influx of people, the Malo Mart had expanded as well, the small shop growing to include an extra two rooms and more merchandise than ever before. Barnes Bombs enjoyed a similar increase in customers, though definitely not as extensively as the now chain of shops that Malo ran.

To put it simply, Kakariko was finally a village again.

And thankfully, one with a large and accommodating enough hotel, the Elde Inn, to fit all of them comfortably.

They go three to a room:Twilight with Time and Wild, Warriors with Wind and Sky, and Four with Legend and Hyrule.

After settling into their designated spaces and, in some cases, fighting over beds, they all come together in Time’s room to discuss the game plan for the rest of the evening.

“Time and I will be going to speak to one of my friendsto get information on any strange occurrences,” Twilight starts once everyone is quiet and paying attention, partially in part due to a well placed glare from the Old Man.

“And I think Warriors mentioned wanting to go to the shop to restock?” Twilight continues, sending a questioning glance to the aforementioned Captain. The scarf wearing hero nods in confirmation.

“So, if anyone has any specific requests or would like to go with him to carry supplies, that would be appreciated,” Twilight finishes.

Surprisingly, Legend raises a hand.

“Hyrule and I have been keeping an eye on our medicine stores and there's a couple of things we could probably use,” the pink haired hero says by way of explanation. “Besides,” he continues, serious expression melting away as he smiles charmingly at Warriors, “I don't trust him with my money.”

Warriors adopts a dramatically affronted look, hand to chest and everything as he gasps in shock.

“Sounds good,” Twilight says, agreeing easily enough, despite the dramatic interruption. Warriors turns his open mouthed expression on Twilight, giving him a look that said ‘how dare you not defend my honor?’

Twilight returns Warriors dramatic expression with half lidded eyes, a raised eyebrow, and a faint shrug that hopefully conveyed the sentiment ‘can’t defend what isn’t there’.

Time steps forward, breaking up the unspoken smackdown by giving both heroes a very tired face.

“And you five?” the Old Man asks, looking at the youngest members of their group plus Sky. “Was there something you wanted to do before we meet up for dinner later tonight?”

The five look between themselves, no one willing to speak first, lest they get shot down.

A part of Twilight– the part that itches itches itches at the back of his skull–hopes beyond hope that all of them decide to just stay in the hotel rooms for the rest of the evening.

A much bigger part of him knows that that's never going to happen.

“I wanted to check out the spring at the back of town?” Hyrule says eventually, his voice going high at the end, like it was a question rather than a statement of intent. “It feels like… there’s something special about it.”

Time nods at his words but Twilight feels that scratching, that incessant itch, increase with a vengeance, digging at the back of his head at the teen’s suggestion.

One could say a lot of things about Hyrule, but the traveling hero was definitely observant, especially in things having to do with magic. It figured that Hyrule could detect the spiritual nature of the spring.

It should be one of the safest places in town.

So why does Twilight’s scalp crawl and his guts quake at the idea of any of them going near it?

“I’ll go with you, ‘Rule,” Sky pipes up with an easy smile, jolting Twilight from his revere and unknowingly adding insult to injury. “And then afterwards, maybe we could visit the hot springs upstairs?”

Hyrule nods eagerly and Sky’s smile grows. “Perfect!”

“Wild and I wanna go to the bomb shop!” Wind cuts in with a big grin.

Twilight feels a frown pull at his face, a more concrete concern finding its place in his stomach like a pile of stones.

“Sounds interesting. I’ll tag along as well,” Four interjects and Twilight can’t tell if that soothes his anxieties or ratchets them up further. Obviously, Four had shown interest in bombs earlier that morning, something Twilight couldn't remember him doing before.

The kid was a wild card, someone Twilight couldn't predict. At least he could count Wild's more-erm-pyromaniac persuasions to be consistant in their destructive nature. The pelt wearing hero had no idea what to expect of Four, apparently.

And with Wind egging them on? It was a recipe for disaster. Twilight doesn't need a foggy memory, an itch in his brain, or a sinking feeling in his gut to tell him that much.

Wild, however, let’s his discontent at the smithy’s addition be known immediately with a groan.

“We don’t need a babysitter,” Wild says with a huff, eyeing the shorter hero.

“No one said anything about a babysitter,” Four replies evenly. “The shops I’m interested in aren't open until night, correct?” he asks, directing the question toward Twilight.

The farmhand nods.

Four had been particularly keen on seeing the stalls that were open after dark, excited to see what the Gorons would display that evening at their stands. The smithy was practically giddy to examine and pick apart the innovations a forge heated with lava could produce.

“I’d like something to do in the meantime,” Four continues after Twilight's answer. “And besides,” and here his face remains entirely neutral except for the faintest flicker of a smile and a flash of fire in his eyes, “I like bombs.”

No one really knows what to say to that, so the argument is dropped.

With their plans settled, everyone begins to head out, with Sky and Hyurle leading the charge out the door, talking amicably about the medicinal pros and cons of hot springs. Warriors is quick to follow them, eager to get out to the shops as soon as possible.

As Legend turns to follow the scarf wearing hero, Twilight catches him by the arm.

“Hey,” the Ordonian starts once he’s got the younger’s attention, “If there’s a baby-faced kid working the shop, don’t let him gouge you. The kid’s notorious for hiking up prices for tourists.”

Legend raises an eyebrow but nods at Twilight’s words, acknowledging.

“I’ve haggled with Ravio before,” the pink haired hero says with a little bit of a grimace. “I think we’ll be fine.”

Memories of the aforementioned merchant’s salesman smile, smooth words, and flair for theatrics blink into existence in Twilight’s mind.

“Fair enough,” he admits, releasing the veteran hero’s arm.

Once freed, Legend turns and strides through the doorway, walking towards an impatient looking Warriors who waits with a hand on his hip and a foot tapping on the ground. Legend holds a hand out to the older hero, making grabby motions as he flashes Warriors an expectant look. The two stare at each other for a moment, some kind of silent standoff.

With a sigh, Warriors relents, dropping the wallet full of their pooled spending money in the veteran’s open hand.

And then the two are off. Which just leaves…

“We’ll be back in time for dinner!” Wind assures as he scurries out the door, Wild hot on his heels.

“Don’t blow up the town!” Twilight shouts at their retreating backs.

“No promises!” Wild yells back over his shoulder as he and the younger blonde disappear around the bannister and down the stairs.

Four follows them at a more sedate pace, waving away Twilight’s slightly concerned look as he follows their resident trouble makers out of the hotel.

And… they're gone.

Twilight stares at the stairway for a moment longer. There's something… uncomfortable about watching them disappear one by one out of the hotel, out of his line of sight.

Anxiety drips coldy down his ribs like ice water and settles in his gut and Twilight finds his hand scratching at the back of his scalp idly, trying to assuage the tingling itch that irritates his brain.

A hand lands in the pelted fur sitting on Twilight’s shoulder as Time comes to stand next to him.

“They’ll be fine,” the older assures.

For a moment, Twilight wonders how Time knew what he was thinking, before he lets the thought roll off his back. He’s far past asking Time why he knows anything. The Old Man just knows.

“Besides, how much harm could they do in an afternoon?” his mentor finishes with a smile.

Twilight turns to the other, giving him the driest look the farmhand can muster.

Time lets out an unbecoming snort, hand that was once on the farmhand’s shoulder releasing so Time can give him a fond clap on the back.

“Joking!” the Old Man says, voice warm with laughter. “I’m joking!”

The armor wearing hero takes a second longer to compose himself before staring down at Twilight with a knowing look. “I swear, you’re worse than I am sometimes,” he laughs, with a slight shake of his head.

Twilight winces at that slightly.

He knows he can be a bit… overprotective of the others. But he can’t really stop himself from worrying about them. Whenever any of them got hurt, Twilight felt their wounds like they were his own. When Wild would wake from night terrors, shaking and unable to breathe, Twilight felt breathless with him. When Wind’s frustration at how the others treated him bubbled over into warm tears, Twilight felt his own eyes start to water.

He couldn't help how much he wanted to protect them all.

It ran in his veins, pounded in his bones, howled in his heart.

An instinct, he thinks ruefully.

It was the same mindset Twilight had held for most of his life, ground into his very being from hours of entertaining and watching and protecting the kids of the village. It’s what drove him, trapped in wolf form and in an unknown land, to protect Wild from any and all harm.

It made Twilight want to hide Wind and Hyrule and Sky away from the world, to drag Legend into the confines of safety kicking and screaming. It made him want to take all of the daggers meant for Warriors back, to make sure Time made it back home safe to Malon.

It’s probably what made him see Colin in Four.

It was definitely what made Twilight sure he would use every moment he still had breath in his lungs making sure Wild was happy.

Twilight can’t describe it, the force that wraps his heart in a vice at the thought of any of the others in pain. He can’t describe the growling anger at the presence that forced them to dance in time with its plans.

He wishes he could describe it, pin it down and understand it’s source, but he can't.

He also wishes it wasn’t so active due to the fact that they were in danger all the Hylia damned time.

Twilight blows a sigh through his teeth, pushing a hand through his bangs.

“I’m happy I got to meet them,” Twilight says eventually, still staring at the stairs. With effort, he manages to wrench his gaze away from the steps, turning to look into Time’s too observant eye. With another exhale, Twilight feels something in him deflate, energy suddenly sapped from his very marrow.

His shield arm aches. He wants to sit down. He wants to visit the hot springs or curl up in the warmth of his bed.

He doesn't want to deal with this anymore.

But he will. For them.

“I’m happy I met them, but sometimes I hate that they’re here,” Twilight mutters, letting all the sadness and bitterness that came with failing to protect the others over and over and over again turn his words to daggers. “I hate that they got dragged into this.”

“You make it sound as though this is your fault,” Time says, words gentle but voice pointed, striking straight to the core of Twilight’s thoughts, his feelings. “You make it sound as though you're not a victim here as well.”

The farmhand’s mouth opens but his voice is dead in his throat. He has nothing to say, no response.

“I would tell you not to hold this burden on your shoulders, but I know you will refuse to put it down,” a little laugh, not happy but not angry either. Resigned. “Just one more thing you inherited from me that I wish you hadn't.”

Half of Twilight’s mouth lifts into a sad, partial smile, the same expression pulling onto Time’s face.

Two faces that look too similar to be anything but related, having seen too much of the world.

“The best we can do for now is try to figure out what is going on here,” Time continues, voice stronger, more confident. A pillar that Twilight can lean on if he needs. “The sooner we can do that, the sooner they and this Hyrule will be safe from whatever would wish to do them harm.”

Twilight nods silently at his words.

Right. They have a plan. A plan he can focus on and work towards, steeping himself in preparation rather than peeking around corners for every what ifscenario.

The farmhand takes a deep breath in, allows it to fill his lungs, before he breathes out. He stowes the uncertainty, buries the fear. He allows the anxiety to stay. It isn’t like Twilight can banish it if he tried– and oh, how he's tried– so instead he lets it settle in his gut, familiar if not comfortable.

It will keep him on his toes, if anything.

With another gulp of air, Twilight straightens his spine and squares his shoulders and then leads the way out of the hotel and toward Renado’s house.

…

It is not a far walk to the shaman's place of residence.

From their hotel, it's just a quick walk down the central dirt path of the town.

As they approach the building, Twilight can see Hyrule and Sky a little farther back as they stand in the water of the nearby spring. Both have abandoned their boots, their pants pushed up past their knees to protect the cloth from the warm water as the two heroes wade deeper.

The Skyloftian looks up and flashes them a contented, close mouthed smile and a little wave. Hyrule, meanwhile, seems entranced by the water, eyes locked on the crystalline surface as he searches for something.

As though summoned by his intense gaze, a fairy appears, seemingly materializing from the water itself. Hyrule lets out an amazed laugh as the little pink sprite flutters upward and circles his head once, before stopping right in front of his nose.

Sky laughs delightedly at the sight. Behind him, the farmhand hears Time huff out a content sigh.

They look relaxed in their joy. Happy. Warm.

Twilight isn’t sure why, but it sets his teeth on edge, that anxious tension in his guts roiling as phantom bugs carve lines in the back of his skull.

He's forgetting something. Something really important.

Whatever it is, it makes Twilight want to force them out of the spring right now. It makes him want them to run back to the hotel and lock themselves inside.

In a flash of rose, more faires blink into existence to follow their sister, a whole swarm of them circling around the two heroes, sparkles of strawberry magic swirling them in a mini blizzard.

Their voices rise in surprised joy as Twilight turns from the sight and sets his knuckles against the old wood of Renado’s door. He knocks with three quick whaps of his fist.

Almost as soon as his hand leaves the wood, the door creaks open, a heart shaped face looking up at him shyly through a short curtain of black hair. Dark, round eyes almost immediately light up in recognition and the door is thrown open as the girl behind it dives at him for a hug.

“Link!” she exclaims, her happy voice muffled as she gives him a squeeze around the middle.

“Luda!” Twilight replies a little breathlessly as she squeezes harder. “It’s been a while.”

“Too long,” she says into his chest, tone fond.

She’d gone through a bit of a growth spurt since he had last seen her, Twilight realizes as he gives the young shamin-in-training a light hug in return. Her head reaches his mid chest now when it used to be at his navel. As she steps back to give him a once over–checking for injuries no doubt, Renado taught her well– Twilight wonders if she’ll surpass him in height one day.

If she takes after her father, as Twilight suspects she does, she most certainly will.

Done with her inspection and having seen nothing in need of her immediate attention, Luda steps back through the threshold of the door, holding it open for the two heroes to enter.

“Come in, come in! Dad will be so relieved to see you. Shad and Auru too.”

As they pass through the doorway, Twilight notes how the teenager’s eyes linger on Time, curiosity sparkling in those observant, dark gray eyes of hers.

Entering the room is like walking nose first into a brick wall made out of pure jasmine, pine, and cinnamon. Well, at least it is for Twilight anyway.

It is… potent to say the least, but a familiar potency, one he has gotten used to after spending hours in this very room, comforting Talo and Beth, talking to Colin and Iliya.

As his eyes adjust to the change in lighting, Twilight sees that the house is almost just as he remembers from his quest. The wooden torches are lit and in place on the walls, casting the room in an inviting orange glow. The old, worn, hand woven carpets frame the stone statue of the Light Spirit Eldin that looms in the center of the room. Lovingly painted pots litter the cracked dirt floor, organized from largest to smallest against the rounded walls.

The only large difference between this room and the room he remembers from his adventure is the addition of another door at the back, an expansion to the house Renado had built with the help of the Gorons.

A clinic for the expanding town.

Luda shuts the door quietly behind them and then turns, hands on hips and face expectant. She leans forward a little, letting her eyes rest on Twilight’s face. After a moment of silence, both of her eyebrows lift and her eyes widen, as she sends the farmhand an even more pointed look.

“So?” She says imploringly. “Where have you been? What have you been up to?” Her eyes flash back to Time for a moment before landing back on Twilight once more. “Rusl said some group of strangers showed up in Ordon and spirited you away on another adventure or...?”

Twilight opens his mouth to explain and then shuts it once more. He turns to Time, but the older man is no help, simply giving the Ordonian a shrug.

What Rusl had told her… wasn't technically wrong. Twilight had just happened to be back in the village helping Fado with those damned goats when five warriors had stepped onto the ranch.

Two of them appeared to be Twilight’s age, one with a flowing blue scarf and the other with the Master Sword of all things strapped to his back. Two of the others looked to be younger, the anxious brunette appearing to be a teenager while the one with the multicolored tunic made Twilight fear these men were traveling with children.

The last one, however, had been the one who had caused the normally sure seated rancher to almost fall from Epona’s saddle.

The armor was different, but undeniably similar. It was missing the overgrown moss, the vines that choked the arm guards and crossed the chest. Without the foliage and the rust that Twilight was accustomed to, the metal shined in the sun, sending flashes of silver and gold into the air.

He was missing his helmet, Twilight had thought idly.

He was also already missing his eye.

After that, it had not taken much–if any– convincing on the other heroes’ parts to get him to join. He was already on board.

“Well?” she says, cocking one hip. Her stance has the body language of Telma written all over it.

“W-well,” Twilight starts, “I’ve been traveling with some people from far off lands.” The farm hand spares a look at Time, who, instead of helping, is smiling faintly as Twilight flounders on his own.

Thanks a lot.

“We’ve been traveling around a lot, helping out wherever we can. I guess we just sort of… ended up here? Now?” Hylia, he is bad at lying.

Stretching the truth, a phantom, high pitched and giggly voice whispers in his ear. He ignores it.

“This is my… one of my new friends,” Twilight says, the words sounding wooden and forced to his own ears as he gestures to the Old Man.

“You may call me Time,” his mentor cuts in, holding out a hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Luda takes it and gives it a firm, polite shake, her father’s propriety shining through despite her reservations.

“Luda,” she introduces in return.

The young shamin gives Twilight another questioning look but ultimately drops it, her shoulders drooping slightly as she strides past the two heroes towards the back room.

“I’m assuming you’re here for my father. I’ll go grab him for you,” Luda says over her shoulder. “He’s in the back with a patient.”

She disappears into the other room and Twilight can just hear her raise the call of “Daaaad!” as the wood swings shut behind her, muffling her voice once again.

It is silent for a moment.

Time turns to him, mouth open to speak, but his words are drowned out as the sound of stone grinding on stone assaults the air.

The statue of Eldin in the center of the room is moving, gliding across the ground, the owl–Moth? Eagle? Twilight was never sure what Eldin was supposed to be. None of those things have lips– slowly shifting to the left, revealing the secret passage below.

As soon as the stone is out of the way, a head pops from the newly revealed hole in the ground. A head with slightly mussed auburn hair and with askew, round spectacles sitting precariously at the end of a familiar nose.

“Ah!” Shad exclaims, hefting himself up the final rungs of the ladder and into the room proper. The scholar adjusts his glasses and then smiles warmly, holding his hand out in a friendly greeting. “I thought I heard your voice. It is nice to see you again, Link.”

Twilight takes his outstretched palm with his own, giving the hand a short, strong shake. “Likewise, Shad. It’s nice to be back.”

“And not a moment too soon,” comes a calm, deep voice from the back of the room.

Renado sweeps into the room, looking serene as always despite the very tell-tale red that stains the ends of his long sleeves.

“We didn’t mean to pull you away from a patient,” Time says quickly, apparently having seen the blood as well.

The shamin waves the older man’s worries away. The tassels on his sleeves sway with the motion.

“He is in stable condition now. Luda can observe him while I am away.”

“She’s graduated from assistant then, has she?” Twilight asks.

“Yes,” Renado replies, the normally neutral expression on his face cracking slightly with pride. “She is coming along very nicely.”

The slight uptick to his lips falls and the carefully blank expression falls back into place on his face.

“However,” the older shamin continues, “the reason for her getting so much hands on experience is worrisome to say the least.”

“So there have been attacks?” Time asks, cutting right to the chase.

Renado eyes Time for a moment, an open weariness to his usually relaxed dark gaze.

Twilight takes a small step forward, drawing Renado’s eyes back to him. “Please,” he says, allowing the unfettered concern that had been howling in his chest all day to bleed into his words. “What's been going on?”

The shaman's eyes study him for a moment before he nods almost imperceptibly.

“As your friend said,” the man starts, voice still calm, “there have been more attacks as of late. The monsters are getting increasingly aggressive.” The shamin brings a hand to his chin, a cloud shadowing his eyes with worry. “Kargarocs have been encountered in increasingly large numbers. The Bombskits are growing less skittish. Stalhound packs spring to new heights every night.”

“But that’s not the worst of it,” Shad cuts in. “While there are more monsters, they’re easy enough to dispatch with a group of skilled hunters or warriors.”

The scholar and the shamin share a pointed look, an unsaid question rigning silently in the air between them.

“The problem,” Shad continues, choosing his words carefully. His eyes flicker over Twilight’s face, waiting for a reaction, “lays in what is controlling the monsters.”

“Controlling them?” Time presses.

Shad nods grimly.

“The Bulbins.”

And suddenly, the itching in Twilight’s scalp stops. The tight grip anxiety has on his stomach releases in shock.

The foggy memory clears and slots itself into place behind Twilight’s eyes.

A warm evening. A warm spring. A warm smile. Warm green eyes.

He had felt so warm, so protected, so safe, not a care in the world. The only thing on his mind was excitement for his journey the next day.

It would have been his first time going past Faron Woods. The first time he would see Hyrule Field. The first time going to Castle Town. His first chance to explore the world.

He had been excited but content, happy to be with his friends, Iliya smiling in front of him and Colin laughing by his side.

He had been so happy.

...

And then the tremors had started. Distant at first, but growing with each passing second until it was an earthquake, the water rippling and crashing in miniature waves around his legs as he fought for balance.

The rumbling grew and grew, rhythmic and deafening until with a terrible crescendo, a Bullbo had crashed through the wooden gate protecting the spirit spring, two Bulblins armed on its back.

Colin had gasped, stumbling back. Iliya had screamed, turning to run.

And he… he was frozen.

The beast had charged forward, crashing into his side and shoving him out of the way. One of it’s riders readied a bow, and with a twang, put an end to Iliya’s escape… and her screams.

He had wanted to run to her. He had wanted to grab her and Colin and flee into the secret passage, to safety.

He never got the chance, a club slamming into the back of his head, making the world explode with pain and darkness as he fell first to his knees, and then into the water.

Darkness. He could not move, could not swim up from the depths of his mind. He had felt water around him, water up his nose, water in his lungs but he had been unable to cough or even choke.

He had been drowning in that darkness when he had heard it.

That sound. A deep rumbling, resonant blast of an ivory horn, the notes diving low before flinging themselves higher in the air.

The call to the Twilight Realm. The all clear.

“Pup?”

Twilight drags himself from the memory, Time’s concerned face slowly swirling into clarity before his eyes as the images fade back into his brain.

“But that makes no sense,” Twilight mutters in bemusement, shaking his head to dislodge the final pieces of the memory from his vision.

“Why?” Time asks. “What are Bulblins?”

Both Shad and Renado’s heads whip around to face the armored hero, twin expressions of shock and confusion on their faces.

“He’s not from here,” Twilight throws at them by way of explanation, too deep in his own thoughts to come up with a more detailed or believable lie.

“Bulblins are…” Twilight pauses, unsure where to start.

Thankfully, Shad takes pity on him, stepping forward to provide a better explanation than Twilight ever could.

“Bulblins,”the man starts, adjusting his glasses slightly as he speaks to Time, “are a race that is related to Bokoblins, though how closely related, no one knows for sure.”

The scholar pinches his chin between his thumb and forefinger, a thoughtful expression dropping onto his face.

“What sets them apart from Bokoblins, other than the green skin, is their intelligence. They can build complex structures. They have their own language and have been known to speak rudimentary Hylian. They even have a hierarchical society, with a chief or king.”

“Their hierarchy is based on strength,” Twilight cuts in, having finally found his words. “Strongest at the top, weakest at the bottom. You can probably guess why they would side with Ganondorf.”

Time nods.

“But,” Twilight continues, “I defeated the King of the Bulblins in single combat. After that, they abandoned Ganondorf and fled back to the Gerudo Desert. They haven't been seen in Hyrule proper for years now.”

“Well, very apparently, they are back,” Renado replies, lips down turned. “Travelers and merchants have reportedly been attacked while traversing the kingdom. There have been sightings of Bulblin raiding parties as close to the village as Eastern Hyrule Field.”

A heavy hand lands on Twilight’s shoulder. He glances up at Time, and the two share a look. Question. Response. Not a word spoken.

“We’ll head out first thing tomorrow morning,” Twilight says,voice strong, decisive as he wrenches his gaze away from his mentor to look at the other men in the room.

Shad adjusts his spectacles again, eyes wide, matching the circular frames. Renado, as unflappable as ever, tilts his head ever so slightly to the left.

“May I ask who is included in this ‘we?’” the shamin asks, eyes once again flitting to look at Time before they lock on Twilight once more. “I will not send good people to their deaths.”

“The group I’m traveling with is more than capable of handling this,” Twilight replies firmly. “I would trust each and every one of them with my life.”

Twilight doesn't even have to look to know that Time is smiling behind him. Or at least, sporting that soft eyed look he gets sometimes, half of his mouth pulled up, brows high.

The shamin raises his head slightly, aprasing.

Slowly he inclines his head. Graceful as ever.

“Then we shall leave it in your capable hands, Link.”

…

As they exit the shamin’s house, Twilight sees that Hyrule and Sky are gone from the Spirit Spring.

The farmhand catches himself as he lets a sigh of relief breeze past his lips at seeing the warm waters calm and empty. He now understands why it had made him so sick to see them happy there. Happy and content and warm.

With a frown, Twilight turns away from the water, feet slowly carrying him through the town, following in Time’s dusty footsteps.

They continue to the hotel in relative silence.

If Twilight were to guess, he would assume Time’s mind was already occupied with thoughts of the coming battle. Formations, pairs, weapons, all of it whirling through the old man’s mind at a breakneck pace.

Twilight, on the other hand, feels mired in memories, each one dragging through his mind and pulling at his eyes, forcing him to look, to see.

Before he knows it, they are back in their shared room, Time making adjustments to his armor in the corner while Twilight stands in the center of the room, lost.

The weight of the Shadow Crystal suddenly increases tenfold, the leather cord of the necklace biting into the back of his neck. Twilight idly brings a hand up, fingers hovering over the warm, warped obsidian stone.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Time asks and Twilight’s head snaps up.

The Old Man doesnt look up from his work, a ploy to look as unobtrusive, as unjudging as possible.

The rancher feels his hand drop back to his side.

“Talk about what?”

Twilight knows he's being obtuse.

He also knows he doesn't want to talk about it.

Time merely shrugs his shoulders, thankfully taking the hint and the air around them is once again silent, save for the faint scrubbing sound of a cloth on metal.

Soon enough boots stomping up the stairs and the sound of arguing breaks the awkward air in the room, signalling the arrival of Legend and Warriors back into the hotel.

“I’m simply saying that the purple one looked nice!” Warriors says, voice high and defensive as he stomps up the final step, head turned back to address Legend.

“And I’m simply saying,” Legend replies in an irritated, huffy voice, clearly struggling a bit more under the weight of his laden arms than Warriors, “That purple is not your color.”

“Oh, I’m about to make purple your color,” Warriors grumbles back as he enters Twilight and Time’s room and sets down his load of bags. Time spares them a glance, before rolling his eye and going back to his armor.

Legend deposits his load on the ground as well and then fixes Warriors with a look, one hip cocked and one eyebrow raised.

“Wanna say that again, Pretty Boy?”

Without responding, Warriors sits down and begins pulling bottles full of a pearlescent, red and rippling, mesmerizing blue liquid onto the ground. Legend mirrors him, grabbing bandages of all sizes from his own bags organizing them by size as he goes.

“I could snap you like a twig,” Warriors comments as if he's talking about the weather, peering at some materials for fletching arrows.

“Oh, I’d love to see you try,” Legend responds just as flippantly as he adds another red potion to Warriors growing line of bottles.

Twilight rolls his eyes.

He will never understand their friendship.

Wild, Wind, and Four are the next to get back, the sound of feet quickly ascending the wooden stairs the only warning Twilight gets before two pairs of hands grab at his shoulders and yank him down to be face level with their youngest member.

“You have fish that are bombs in your Hyrule?! My Hyrule is a fucking ocean and we dont have bomb fish!!”

“Language.” Two voices call out, and Wind flips off the air, pointing his finger to indicate the room at large.

“Twilight,” and here, Wild’s voice sounds pained, like the farmhand has wronged him in the most irreparable way possible. His face is scrunched up, eyes closed, brows down and mouth in a wince. “Twilight, how did you fail to mention that you live in a world with exploding bugs?!”

Two pairs of very expectant blue eyes look up at him, like both young heroes are actually trying to get an explanation out of him.

Twilight looks up for help and catches the eye of Four who stands in the doorway. Half of the teen’s mouth lifts into a wry grin, both eyebrows up and then he turns, leaving Twilight to his fate.

“Well?”

“Uhhhhh,” he replies, very intelligently. “It never came up?”

By the look on both teen’s faces, that is not the right answer.

After an unfortunately thorough chewing out by the blondes, who manage to extract a promise from Twilight to test out the bombs at a later date, Hyrule and Sky finally descend the stairs from the upper levels, apparently done with the hot springs.

Both are positively glowing, their faces smiling and cheeks still flushed from the heat.

Soon enough, dinner is served in the lobby, a type of spiced cucco served with a yogurt sauce with flatbread. The heroes descend on the food, their table picked clean in an almost embarrassingly quick amount of time. It’s good, though Twilight muses that WIld could probably improve the recipe in at least 12 different ways.

After the meal, Time briefs everyone on their task for the next morning and then turns them loose to make their preparations.

Before Twilight knows it, sunset orange light bleeds into their room from the window and Four once again stands in the doorway of Twilight, Time, and Wild’s room. Sky and Legend stand behind the smaller teen staring hopefully at Twilight from over the smithy’s head.

Well, Sky looks hopeful. Legend looks impatiently expectant.

“We were wondering if you would like to come with us to the Goron stands,” the small hero says, eyes flicking over his shoulder to include the other two in the statement. “We figured you would know some of the sellers.”

On his bed, Wild perkes up and stows his slate back on his belt, obviously interested in the proposition.

Twilight feels the younger’s eyes on his back but ignores the puppy dog stare being thrown his way. Besides, it's entirely unnecessary. Now that Twilight knew what was causing his metaphorical (and not so metaphorical) hackles to rise, he sure as Hylia wasn't going to let these idiots out of his sight.

Which is how Twilight finds himself trailing behind Sky, Legend, and Wild as they make their way through the dusty streets of Kakariko once more, the last light of day bleeding red against their backs, sending their shadows crawling along in front of them.

The sight of the extended shades shifts something in Twilight. The Shadow Crystal feels a bit heavier, a bit warmer against his chest. Next to him, Twilight thinks he sees Four wave his hand subtly at his own shadow, the dark reflection mirroring the movement.

Soon enough, the lanterns from the pop-up stands come into view and Wild takes off, dragging Sky through the throng of shoppers and toward the first stall. Legend follows at a slower pace, picking his way through the tourists with a bit more grace than the champion

The Skyloftian is apparently looking for something to get his Zelda as an anniversary present and had enlisted the help of Legend to pick through the prospects. The pink haired hero was apparently very particular about his jewelry, magic or not, and had a keen eye for quality and cut.

Wild was there to look for a new pair of earrings for himself, excited to add to his own inventory of shiny things like the magpie he was.

From what Twilight can see over the crowd, Wild holds up a pair of extremely gaudy looking hoops–they’re absolutely massive, thick, and over bedazzled. They look like they could knock out the wearer if they moved their head wrong–and Legend makes a dismissive hiss, as though the metal has personally offended him. Wild grins at his disapproval and turns to the vendor Goron, asking about the price.

Sky laughs as Legend seethes.

Beside him Four seems like he’s just about to dive into the fray of people toward a stand selling knives when a voice has both him and Twilight turning.

“More friends of yours?” Luda asks as she pulls herself from the crowd and comes to stand at Twilight’s side, looking at the squabbling boys.

Wild somehow finds an even uglier pair and holds them up to his ears. Legend looks like he's going to chomp the other’s head off. Sky, standing between the two, is too busy looking at a necklace to be any the wiser.

“Unfortunately,” Four mutters for Twilight.

The shaman in training startles, seemingly seeing Four on Twilight’s other side for the first time.

“Oh, hello!” She says and Twilight winces as she bends down to address the smaller like one would a child. Four’s right eye twitches, cobalt and cold. “My name is Luda. What’s your name?”

“Four,” the smithy says, standing up straighter and injecting as much icy politeness into his voice as possible. He holds out his hand. “A pleasure.”

Luda blinks at the tone and overly rigid behavior and then straightens up, taking the smithy’s hand and giving it a quick shake.

She sends a questioning look Twilight’s way.

“First Time and now Four. Your friends have some pretty interesting names, Link.”

“They’re nicknames, actually,” Four corrects, jumping back in before Twilight has to fumble his way through another stretched truth. “We’re all from pretty far away, so some of our names are difficult to pronounce outside of our native languages,” he says, the lie slipping smoothly from the teens lips like a polished river stone.

It sounds believable even to Twilight.

Luda's face lights up at his words, a proud and challenging glint to her dark eyes.

“I think I’ll be the judge of that,” she says with a smile and a wink. “I’m pretty fluent in Goron- if I do say so myself- and I’ve been working on my Zora and ancient Sheika recently.”

Four’s eyes alight in response, a competitive grin of his own pulling at his face and a mischievous fire in his eyes.

“Cochi-ichoa-ichia ichiri,” pops from the boy’s mouth, each syllable bubbling from his lips, the sounds quick and chittery, like a bird or a squirrel as he places a hand on his stomach– where the seams of his tunic come together– and bends slightly at the waist in a small bow.

Twilight stares wide eyed at the teen and next to him, the farmhand swears Luda’s eyes damn near pop out of her head.

“What the hell was that?” Twilight sputters.

Four simply grins smugly and shrugs his shoulders before turning away to walk toward the stalls. Luda lets out a shocked little laugh and then jogs forward, throwing a wave back at Twilight before catching up with Four, questions flying from her mouth as soon as she can think of them.

They are swallowed by the crowd of shoppers.

And so Twilight is left to his own devices.

Not really there to buy anything himself, Twilight merely peruses the stalls slowly, saying hello to Gor Liggs and his son, Carrig as he browses. As he passes in front of one of the many jewelry stands, Ota, the young Goron, excitedly asks when Twilight would head back to the summit for more wrestling matches. Apparently Darbus was looking for a good match and hadn't found one among his brothers yet.

Not wanting to disappoint the kid, Twilight quickly gives him a humble non answer, a ‘as soon as I’ve got the time’ and then he moves along.

At the next vendor, Twilight finds Legend and Wild, the pink haired hero nodding his head appreciatively as the scarred boy tucks a couple of strands of long hair behind his ear, modeling another pair of earrings.

Twilight gives a whistle and nods his head. He has to hand it to Legend. The guy really does have an eye for this stuff.

The piece that Wild wears is elegant but not overly showy. The part that actually sits in the teen’s ear– the stud, a voice that sounds suspiciously like Iliya’s reminds– is a simple ball of silver. However, thin lines of ivy seem to grow from the ball, drawing icy swirls of vines and leaves from the teen’s lobe to the outer parts of his ear.

“Looks nice, Cub,” Twilight says, earning a glittering smile from the champion.

“Much nicer than those monstrositiesfrom earlier,” Legend agrees, his face screwing up as if he were chewing on a lemon at even the thought of the horrendous hoops.

Wild sticks his tongue out at the comment and then quickly pulls his slate from his belt to pay for the earrings. Then, they set out to find Sky among the crowd of tourists.

The chosen hero is easy enough to spot, his distinctive white sailcloth-cape distinguishable even in the fading light of the sunset.

However, apparently, while he is easy to spot, he is very difficult to please. At least when it comes to getting a gift for his girlfriend.

By the time the three of them make their way back toward where the Skyloftian is examining bracelets, the young man has worked himself into a tizzy, clutching multiple pieces of jewelry in both hands, looking back and forth and back and forth.

It takes a while, but Legend is eventually able to talk the chosen hero down, and helps Sky to select a simple metal charm–a stylized sun with thin rays of light radiating off it–to go along with the pink, red, blue and purple beads Sky had been carefully whittling and dying over the last few weeks.

With their main task done, the group of four simply browses through the stands as they wait for Four to get his fill of questions.

From where Twilight can see, Four and Luda are still chatting away six stalls down, the teen examining a large looking, metal hammer with interest. He points at some part of it, first talking to the girl next to him and then shifting to ask something of the vendor.

The two listen with rapt attention as the Goron responds and then Luda points to another part of the hammer– the side of the hammer’s face– her head shifting to the right as she clarifies. Both Four and the vendor nod at her, the small smithy smiling brightly as he adds something else that has Luda nodding right back.

The two continue to chat with the Goron, eyes equally bright, soaking in the knowledge.

Twilight smiles at the sight.

Next to him, Wild holds up a garish gold necklace, odd metal spikes hanging from a central, gold plated eye. Legend scowls at it and Sky merely laughs, pretending to take interest, if only to rile the veteran hero up further.

In front of him, Twilight watches as the sun finally, finally takes its rest, sinking below the cliffs of the canyon in one last swipe of a red and orange paintbrush. As the laughs and jeers around him increase, Wild now pushing a diadem into Legend’s hair, the navy blue of dusk finally settles like a blanket above them, heralding the night.

All is calm.

That should have been his first hint.

The second at least had the courtesy of being more obvious.

A faint tinkling starts from the table next to them, dragging Twilight’s attention away from the skyline.

Two rings clink together. Three rings clink together. All the rings clink together.

The farmhand’s whole world narrows down to the table, the sound of Wild’s laughing, Legend’s snarls, Sky’s weak attempts to play neutral all falling away as he stares as the silver and gold pieces shift against one another on the table.

Twilight watches as the rings shift and then jump in time, moving on their own.

No… not moving on their own!–

What started as an imperceptible tremble under his toes grows, the ground beneath his feet rumbling and quaking, forcing the farmhand to brace his legs beneath himself to stay standing.

The earrings, necklaces, bracelets, tools, swords, everything begins to clink together. Then they do more than clink, jumping in chaotic waves, clanging so loudly it rings in Twilight’s ears, a picaxe to the brain.

The sound of a horn, no five, no seven, blasts from the end of the canyon in a hellish chorus, the low notes sending the earthquake up into Twilight's stomach, setting off an avalanche of ice into his blood. The anxiety in his guts cracks open like a fissure, fear spilling out.

Beside him, Sky loses his footing, falling forward. Twilight doesn't even let him touch the ground, razor sharp instincts allowing him to catch the young man’s sailcloth turned cape and haul the chosen hero behind himself.

With a strong step forward, Twilight throws his arms open, shielding the three other heroes behind himself just as the wave of Bulbos turn the corner, screaming into the village.

Around them, cries– Hylian, Goron– rise into the air as the beasts charge.

Everything is chaos. Bulbos squeal and grunt and shout in time with cries of fear as the beasts careen into the crowd and through the stalls. Broken wood, precious jewels, fire; it all flies through the air as bodies shove into Twilight from all sides, the crowd moving as one, dragging them downstream.

Behind him, Twilight feels hands grab into his tunic, into his pelt like a lifeline. He reaches back, catching what feels like Sky’s sailcloth between his fingers and holds on with all the strength and desperation he can manage.

A snap and an errant shard of wood comes careening from the darkness, slamming into the side of Twilight’s head, but he hardly notices. He’s too preoccupied with keeping his hands on his boys as he's pulled forward by the current of people, making sure they aren’t pulled away by the flood or Hylia forbid, fall to the ground to be trampled.

Oh Hylia, Twilight thinks, the ice in his veins turning sharp and pointed, stabbing into his lungs as fear takes his breath away.

Where's Luda?! Where’s Four?!

Twilight lifts his head, trying for a better vantage point, but is given an elbow to the eye and a shove from the side for his troubles, sending him reeling but not down. Hylia, he can not go down and drag the others down with him.

More screams rise into the air as a lantern smashes into a stall setting the whole thing ablaze, scattering embers and hot oil like pollen from a poppy.

Immediately the crowd moves, shifts, dives away from the danger, a school of fish moving on instinct in the dark.

Twilight is powerless to stop it, dragged to the left of the street by the horde. Someone falls next to the pelt wearing hero, landing bodily into his side, wrenching his left arm back. The cloth connecting him to his brothers threatens to be pulled from his hand but Twilight holds on all the harder, digging his nails into the fabric.

Another shove and out of the side of his eye, Twilight catches how the light of the fire glints in shades of oil spill orange and green off the side of oxidized and rumbled sheet metal in the shape of a tall building.

Barnes Bombs.

Somewhere he recognises. Somewhere the crowd is swimming away from in their haste to make it to the hotels.

A shoreline in a storm.

Twilight locks his knees against the onslaught of people and feels a body slam into his back. The sailcloth goes slack in his hand. Sky, most likely then.

Looping the fabric around his wrist for security, Twilight ducks his head and begins to ram his way to the sides of the crowd, earning him errant punches and elbows and kicks from all directions but he keeps moving. By Hylia, he keeps moving. Keeps moving forward.

With a final push, Twilight breeches the mass of bodies and throws himself flush against the side of Barnes’ shop, the metal uncomfortable against his back as he all but drags Sky and the others to his side.

At a glance, they seem to be battered and rattled but overall fine. Sky seems the least injured, though his wide, aquamarine eyes catch in the fire, big and frantic and overwhelmed. Behind him, Legend sports a few rips to his tunic and a rapidly purpling chin, his own eyes flashing back and forth over the crowd, searching. Blood gushes from WIid’s nose and drips off his jaw though the teen hardly acknowledges it as he catches sight of Twilight, face contorted in concern.

Twilight doesn't feel his own cuts and bruises, the nick on his forehead from the wooden plank or ache in his arm or the pain in his ribs. His blood is too warm with adrenaline to feel any pain, too cold with fear to care if he did.

They all lock eyes and in the next moment, they draw their weapons, Twilight and Sky going for their swords while Wild pulls a massive, stone bludgeon from his slate. Legend’s hands wrap around the Ice Rod he had been using earlier, ready to drop tons of ice on their adversaries.

And yet, as soon as they ready themselves, the sound of pounding hooves and shattering wood and screams the new, earth shattering normal, it all flies away, the ground slowly coming to a halt beneath Twilight’s feet.

In a flash, the riders are gone, dark shadows moving away like ghosts into the night, leaving only swirling dust clouds and destruction behind them as proof of their existence.

In a matter of seconds, the street is clear of most people, only glittering metal, ravaged stalls, and the injured left in the dusty road.

Immediately, Twilight’s eyes are scanning the dirt, looking for a small childlike figure amongst the rubble. He searches for that distinctive quadripartite tunic, those locks of golden hair in the lantern light. Anything.

Every passing second that the farmhand sees neither hide nor hair of the small smithy, his heart ratchets up three notches in his chest, his breaths coming out ragged and panting.

Twilight doesn't know what he dreads more in that moment:the boy staying missing, or finding him.

The sound of creaking wood sends Twilight’s head whipping up from his frantic search.

Across the street, a pile of debris shifts, revealing the yellowed, rocky skin of a hunched up Goron slowly uncurling.

The sentient rock straightens, coming to his feet first and then slowly uncurling the rest of the way, wood and dust falling away from his back as he uncrosses his arms from around where he had been curled.

And as he stands up, Twilight watches with fascination as two figures are slowly revealed to the firelight, both with similar bob haircuts but in opposite colors; one sable, one golden. Slowly, the two disoriented figures stand from their huddled position, looking dazed and rattled but none the worse for wear.

Four and Luda. Safe.

Twilight must make some kind of choked off cough, because suddenly both teens are looking at him. Something like pained relief slams over Four's face and the teen stumbles forward over the shattered planks of wood toward the farmhand, Luda following close behind.

Something in Twilight settles at the sight of of the two, safe and s–

Thunder.

Pure, deep, rolling thunder shatters the delicate calm, ripping apart the second long reprieve

The thunder rises, the note going from a grumbling, vibration of the air to a triumphant war call, rattling through Twilight’s body, that sick sense of deja vu clawing at the back of his brain as his eyes are all but forced from the teens back toward the entrance of the village.

There, standing in the pale light of the rising moon in front of the steaming water of the Spirit Spring, is Lord Bullbo, his distinctive gray hair, massive tusks, and glowing red eyes visible even from the other side of town.

Astride the hulking beast’s back is a green skinned figure, too large to be a regular Bulblin but too small to be the King, large, painted horns hooked and dangerous, gleaming red eyes flashing in the firelight.

The too large Bulblin’s glowing eyes lock onto Twilight and then flash to the teens, a snaggle-toothed sneer pulling at his lips as the man?–monster catches sight of the would-be reunion.

And then the Bulblin flicks the reins and Lord Bullbo rears back with an ear splitting squeal, legs heaving the gargantuan body as fast a runaway carriage down the dirt street.

Twilight’s body is moving before the farmhand even registers it, sprinting forward, arms outstretched. Beside him, Sky, and Wild match him step for step. Legend does one better, the wings on his boots fluttering up a storm as the pink haired hero sprints like the winds, pulling in front of the farmhand, reaching forward

Across from the heroes, the Goron dives, making a grab for the teens, trying to pull them from harm's way once more.

Above them, the Bulblin looms, two pairs of blood moon eyes locked onto the youths caught in the middle of it all.

And Four and Luda…

Well, they run.

They run, dust kicked up in swirls by their feet.

They run, twin expressions of fear blowing their eyes wide.

They run, Luda pulling ahead, her longer strides allowing her to cover more distance.

They run, but as the shadow of the charging beast descends over them, faster than the Goron can dive, faster than Legend can sprint, Twilight knows with a flash of clarity that neither of them is going to make it in time.

Twilight knows they’re not going to make it, and he can see the moment that Four knows it too.

Can see it in the way the smithy’s eyes harden into flinty, multicolored gems. Can see it as he plants his feet, presses both hands into Luda’s back and with a full body movement, shoves her forward into Legend’s arms.

Twilight watches as, alone, the tiny hero turns to meet his fate head on.

And then, in the next second, Twilight can no longer see Four, the teen ripped away by the fabric of his hood, up into the arms of the Prince Bulblin in a flash of silvery boar hide and a snorting laugh.

In the matter of milliseconds, the gray beast has made it to the end of the canyon, the end of the town and the bastard Bulblin pulls on the warthog’s reigns, pulling the spitting bullbo until the creature rears back on its back hooves, screaming in fury.

The Prince Bulblin raises his prize and...

And Hylia, for the splitest of seconds, Twilight sees Colin in the monster’s hands.

He sees Colin, sweet, intelligent, brave Colin, unconscious in the arms of King Bulblin, held aloft in the noonday sun, a war trophy to spur Twilight into action. To spur Twilight to fight.

But then that moment ends.

It is night once more, the moon glinting off Lord Bullbo and illuminating the not-King Bulbin as he struggles to contain his captive even as he raises the teen skyward.

Because Four is not Colin.

Because unlike Colin–brave despite himself but still a child at heart– Four does not faint in the arms of the Bulblin.

No.

Four hisses and spits like a feral fox, punching, kicking, clawing at every piece of green skin he can reach. The smithy rages in the Bulblin’s grip, thrashing wildly, nearly sending the rider from his saddle as he swings precariously in the monster’s hold.

Twilight dares to hope the Bulblin will lose his grip.

He doesn't.

Instead, he adjusts his grasp in the green fabric of the hood while his other hand releases its hold on the reins long enough to grab a massive wooden club from the back of the saddle. The Bulblin raises it above his head, looks straight at Twilight, and then, with a vengeful, poison filled smile, brings it down savagely.

Once, twice, three times.

Only then does Four still, finally going limp like Colin did.

And only then does the not-King Bulblin lift the smithy with a scream of triumph, the moon and the fires illuminating both monster and hero in the glow of destruction, red eyes bright in brutal glee as the green of Four’s headband turns black, drenched in blood.

A twang sounds from behind Twilight, an arrow sailing through the air only to glance off the side of the not-King’s armor harmlessly. The Bulblin smiles cruelly as squealing, terrible chuckles rip up from his throat at the failed attempt to save their friend.

Then, with a jolt of the reins, the Bulblin crashes away into the night with Four tucked under his arm like a sack of potatoes.

For a second, it is quiet, the only sound breaking the silence the crackling of the fires quickly consuming the destroyed stands.

In the next moment,Twilight begins furiously turning out his pockets,desperate to feel the smooth wood of that two belled flute, where is it, where the hell did he–

“Twi,” Wild says, voice urgent and rough with worry, as he, Sky, Legend, and the shaking Luda jog over to the farmhand’s side, matching expressions of concern and frightened anger on their faces. “Twi, what are you doing? We have to–

There!

Twilight yanks Iliya’s Charm free from his back pocket, quickly presses the mouthpiece to his lips and blasts three descending notes twice.

Almost immediately, there is an answering whinney and the distant but quickly approaching gallop of hooves. In less than a minute, Epona stands by his side, muscles twitching and hooves pawing restlessly at the dirt, in tune with her master’s clawing anxiety, his need to run, his need to run now.

With sure movements, Twilight swings himself onto her back, heels ready to tap Epona into movement, hands already at the reigns ready to snap–

“Twi.”

Twilight’s legs freeze in place, his hands hovering, holding the worn leather of the reins in a death grip.

He wrenches his eyes from the dirt path in front of him, looking down.

Twilight looks at them and Wild stares back with imploring eyes, hand on Epona’s side as blood drips from his nose. His face is hard as stone, determined. Beside the champion, Legend glares up at Twilight, daring the other hero to tell them to leave. The veteran’s electric blue eyes are bright with fire, inside and out, guilt, concern, and anger taking turns pulling at his face. Behind the two, Sky nods his head as he sets his jaw, ready for anything.

Twilight looks at them, and even though anxiety and fear and a howling, clawinganger boil in his guts, he feel totally and utterly proud and totally and utterly stupid.

Because of course they want to help. Of course they needto help.

And of course he’s not alone. Not anymore.

He doesn't have to try to save Colin Four on his own. He doesn't have to be a one man army riding out into the sunset headless of his own safety.

Because, no matter how much it pains him to see them hurt, or how much it kills him that they’re in danger, he can’t protect them from everything. What literally just happened proved that without a shadow of a doubt.

He can’t protect them. Can't lock them away under his watchful eyes forever. Can’t force them to abandon who they are just to satisfy his own conscience.

He can’t protect them from the darkness.

But he can help them fight it.

And by Hylia, they can help him fight it too.

So, these thoughts singing in Twilight’s head, the pelt wearing hero scoots forward in the saddle and offers a hand down to his fellow heroes.

Legend immediately steps forward to take it, but pauses.

“Got an extra bow in that thing?” Legend asks gruffly, flicking steely eyes at Wild.

The champion nods, and with a click, a wooden bow with metal reinforcements glows into life. The veteran hero takes it and the proffered quiver full of arrows and then grabs Twilight’s hand, seating himself snuggly against the farmhand’s back.

In a flash of ethereal light, more ribbons of effervescent aqua condense from nothing, weaving together, forming… something.

It looks like a Guardian, segmented and criss crossed with veins of orange and aqua light. However, instead of the vase shaped, octopus designs of those Sheika monstrosities, this machine is sleek, two wheeled and fashioned in the style of a horse, saddle and equine head and all.

It is big enough for only one rider.

Wild quickly mounts up on the device like it's the most natural thing in the world, feet sliding into the metal stirrups and hands going straight for the handlebars that stick from the neck of the mechanical horse. He gives the nobs there a twist with his wrists until the device gives a kick, a grumbled humming sounding from the thing.

With a final click of his slate, a vicious looking, serrated triplicate boomerang materializes in the champion’s hand, steel glinting dangerously in the moonlight..

With a soft cough, Sky steps forward until he stands next to Epona’s side gazing up at Twilight. He unsheathes the Master Sword, glances over the sacred blade for only a second, before he offers the purple and green pommel to Twilight.

“We’ll switch,” he says, nodding to Twilight’s Ordonian sword. “She wants to go with you.”

Twilight takes the blade, his callouses sliding against the smooth pommel, the grip fitting perfectly in his hand like it was made for him. He supposes he knows now that it wasbut that doesn't tarnish the feeling holding the sword gives to him.

He slides it into the sheath on his back, nodding his head in thanks to the Skyloftian.

Sky nods in reply, takingTwilight’s sword. It is an uneven trade, but one the chosen hero seems happy enough to make.

“I’ll get the others,” Sky says, serious. “We’ll be there soon.”

With that, the chosen hero takes off down the street toward the Elde Inn, his thick, labored breaths showing no sign of slowing the Skyloftian down.

Which just leaves...

“Bring him back,” Luda says, eyes big as she stares up at Twilight. Her voice, however, is steady and hard. An order. “Bring him back just like Colin.”

Twilight nods, a silent oath.

The girl accepts it, stepping back from Epona’s side with a final pet to the horse’s twitching flank before she too turns away and runs back toward her house, no doubt to get her father to help the injured.

Everything settled, Twilight sets his eyes on the moonlit, dirt road ahead of them. Legend shifts behind him, readying his bow. Beside Epona, Wild revs his machine, the wheels spinning, sending up clouds of dust.

“Let go get our smithy back,” Twilight says, voice all fangs.

Then, with a snap of the reigns, Epona bursts into motion, her powerful legs galloping them further into the canyon, further into the dark.

#alone together #lu alone together #linked universe #lu twilight #lu four #lu time #lu legend #lu wild #lu warriors #uhhhhhhhhhh this is a long one boys #would recommend reading on ao3 tbh #anyway #enjoy #train writes

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