Chapter Text
There exists a divine story, from before this kingdom began. One from ages now long past. One of three goddesses: Din of the Flame, Nayru of the Lake, and Farore of the Green.
“Ere tyme began, ere spirits and lyfe existed, twa golden goddesses descended upon the chaos that was Hyrule. Din, the goddess of myght, Nayru, the goddess of wit, and Farore, the goddess of courage, yclept the three.
With her strengthe and flaming armes, Din cultivatyd the londe and creatyd the rede erthe. Nayru poured her wisdom upon the erthe and gave the spirite of lawe to the world. With Farore's riche soule, she producyd alle lyfe formes that wolde uphold the lawe. The twa grete goddesses, their labors completyd, departed for the hevenes. And the sacret Triforce remayneth at the poynt where the goddess left the world. Ywis, the sacret Triforce hath becom the basis of oure world's providence. And, the resting place of the Triforce hath becom the Sacret Realme.”
This story has long left the lips of Hylians dry. There no longer exist ears touched by the goddesses’ tale. Such, the kingdom has begun to crack — seeping the deep underbelly of ice and blood forward, lurching what was left hidden to the surface.
On the outskirts of this broken land lay a village called Linder. Small wooden and clay houses lined dirt paths packed by human feet and livestock, and the damp greenery of Faron gnawed at gables. The village was a lively place, with children running in the street and weekly produce markets plumping the central square. Yet, these lively sounds quiet fast into the forest. Children from Linder know not to leave their windows open at night, and adults know to lock the village gates for unwelcome visitors. The cracks in Hyrule had opened deep in the forest, causing armies of monsters to surround the only civilization in sight like moths to a bonfire.
The few that came and went into the forest were regarded as heroes. And of these heroes, one was held in special regard: Ulim the Shield. He had trained as a royal knight, so the story goes. Linder had experienced a glorious two decades of peace under his watch. One day, he had simply not returned. Faron woods had a way of swallowing the unprepared living, so finding a corpse in the woods was like finding straw in a box of needles. He had left his two children, a daughter named Caldis and a son named Link, a promise to protect their village. The children, too, were regarded as special — less so for their proven heroics and more for their tenacity.
It was a warm summer morning in Linder, and Caldis had already called the village children to the training dummies outside her atelier. She handed them a wooden sparring sword each, with a matching gambeson.
“Alright! Jobo, Rorshi, and Arle on the red dummies today! Flarce, Vinnia, and Hadd, you’re blue! I’ll only be taking Pumpin myself today.” The class groaned. “Y’know, I could spar with more of you if my stinky brother got up a little earlier. So take it up with him.” She shrugged and turned to a child in a brown gambeson who seemed to be barely holding himself up with the prop sword.
“Don’t worry, Pin. I only move at your pace.” Pumpin looked up at her, still unsure. “Okay, maybe sometimes I move a little bit faster. But you won’t improve if you only fight weaker opponents! I know you can do it!”
Caldis flashed a thumbs up and Pumpin gave a weak smile in response. They slowly lowered their swords until wood knocked against wood, then began to shift their weight forward. Caldis lunged first, aiming for the small boy’s shoulder. He flinched and swung his sword up to knock his shoulder safe, then crouched down to swipe at Caldis’ leg. She grinned and hopped back onto the other leg. Another lunge at Pumpin and he fell onto the soft ground, narrowly dodging the sword and still with shock.
A hand extended to Pumpin’s left and he turned to see a young man smiling down at him.
“Link! Are you sparring with us today?” called Arle from the steps of Caldis’ atelier. She had clearly finished her first practice round — covered in hay and a little red from movement.
Link pulled Pumpin up and dusted his hands. He shook his head and turned to Caldis. The two siblings looked similar, as if they could have been twins. They both had unruly, thick hair pulled into headscarves and round hazel eyes set underneath thick, dark brows. Caldis had her flaxen hair in two low buns, and wore the same navy working coveralls as she did every day. Link was in his leather hunting vest — a gift from Ulim — with a tan tunic and brown trousers underneath. Umi’s broad nose and large, strong hands marked them as his children, alongside his emblem attached to both Caldis’ and Link’s wrist.
“The one time you show up moderately on time, you’re not even here to help out? What’re you even here for?” Caldis joined her brother’s side.
I left some supplies upstairs Link signed, gesturing to Caldis’ atelier with his head.
Caldis chuckled and turned to the practice dummies in her garden, “Alright, pause your practice for a sec, I need to get something from inside. Don’t. Hit. Each other.” She sent a glare towards Flarce and Hadd. “Yeah?”
The children agreed (Flarce and Hadd were too busy poking at each other) and Cladis led Link inside. Her atelier was a two-story tower made of the same clay-and-brick the other Linder houses were, covered by hanging canopies of fabric and wood. Wooden stakes surrounded the atelier, attaching long string drying lines out of various hooks on the exterior wall. The forest greenery seemed particularly fond of Caldis’ walls, clinging to them like an infant to its mother. Attached to the tower was a small extension which housed the sparring supplies in poor weather and her mountain of abandoned projects.
The inside smelled like sawdust, varnish, and soap. Blue and pink paint covered the furniture — sometimes a deliberate decorative choice and sometimes a clear accident. But mostly somewhere in between. Caldis kept the windows open and the door ajar to ventilate the indoor workspace, but Link still had to hold in a cough when he stepped inside. He followed Caldis up the light blue wooden staircase and up into her living quarters. Her room was equally busy: discarded paper, fabric, and woodscraps littering the floor by her desk, translucent orange curtains billowing by a large open window, and a mural scrawled on the wall behind her personal cabinet. A humble kitchenette and sink stood lonely beside the door. It looked like last night’s dinner was still in the pan. Yuck.
“Oh come on, I know it’s a mess. You know it’s always a mess. Don’t give me that face.” Caldis began rummaging somewhere behind her cabinet. “Oh, I’ve found it! This is your pack, right? If it was mine it’d have more… colour to i-”
Link took the cloth rucksack from his sister’s hands — partly because it was his and partly to stop her endless stream of words. He flashed a thumbs up and swung the pack onto his back. Thanks, and sorry for leaving it again, he motioned.
“It’s fine. Maybe come help in the morning sometime to pay me back, ‘mkay?” Caldis grinned and walked over to the door.
Link turned from her and made his way to the window, hopping onto her bedframe for extra height.
“Oh no you don’t! Come back here!” Caldis clambered her way over to him, grabbing at air while Link hopped about. “Just come out the front door like a normal person!”
Link made a sloppy apologetic gesture before swinging himself out the window and down onto a drying line. Caldis stuck her head out of the window in disbelief and signed a petty I can’t believe you back at him.
The children down below hollered as he came flying onto the ground, rolling to soften the impact of soil. He put on a cheeky act of ignorance, gave a wave and ran back into the village, Caldis shouting behind him. She didn’t follow. She never did.
Today was another scheduled “monster run”, and Link intended to get it over with in the morning. The hunters’ efforts had thinned down the monsters substantially, so he and the others had been going out alone or in pairs more frequently. Link stopped by Ulim’s cabin to wash himself down, scarf a bowl of fruit (the second one this morning), and change into his forest garb. Most of the hunters wore practical green and brown clothing under leather armour while out in the forest. It seemed to make it easier to move around the forest and towards monsters without notice. Link wore a woollen green tunic with a hood, and embroidered with simple patterns to strengthen the hem. He’d finally grown tall and broad enough to use Ulim’s chainmail and boots. It was warm season now, so he left his legs bare and hood down. His leather armour was a tight squeeze now, so it was just simple equipment straps and his hunting vest as his outer protection. On the wall of the cabin hung his shortsword and shield — a pretty painted wooden shield enforced with metal and rounded to his back. The weight of his equipment on his hips and back felt comforting. Link was his best in the forest: tracking, hiding, maiming.
The southern path out of Linder and into the forest ran past the stables. They were small, only housing four horses. Link rummaged in his pockets for crumbs, raising his cupped hand to the two horses who had run to greet him by the fence.
“Hi girls,” he whispered, “nice to see you.”
The stablehand waved to Link from the doors to the stable. Annella was a tall girl, a few years younger than Link. Her dark, curly hair was pulled up into a braided ponytail and her dress was tied above her knees. She smiled at him on her walk over, bringing a hardy mule with her.
“Good morning Link. Are you going into the forest?” Annella spoke very softly, as if to not startle the horses. Link had always been jealous of people with gentle voices. Both animals and people liked gentle voices. He cleared his throat and nodded.
“Take care. Oh, would you like some food? My mother’s been harvesting our garden.” She handed him a large yellow cucumber. “Don’t worry, it’s washed. I only feed the horses the best.”
Link chuckled and signed a thanks before tucking it away in his pack. I’m glad the horses have you to look after them, then. And your mother’s delicious vegetables.
Annella smiled and waved him off. Link returned the wave and nimbly jumped over the south gate to Faron woods.
The forest canopy eloped the forest in constant dim light. Small rays of late morning sun split through leaves, casting dramatic shadows on the ferns and moss adorning the floor. The ground was near-constantly damp, and wet leaves clung to the massive trees. There was a short transitional area between Linder and the woods, but the massive forest was unmistakable once inside. The damp clouded and misted in the horizon. For Link, visibility was the main obstacle. With enough force, most of the boulders and small trees were scaleable, but distant monsters armed with bows were real trouble. And it wasn’t as if an aerial view was much of an advantage in a dense, misty forest anyway.
Link stretched his arms wide and inhaled the fresh, green smell of the forest. The forest was quiet. Small bird chirps and distant rustling calmed him as he readied his sword, pushing deeper into the greenery. Mado had told him that the northeast area needed surveying, so he carefully pulled himself up onto a familiar red pine tree and began to move northeast. Travelling above ground was often faster than on the forest floor. The trees in Faron were sturdy, and Link had spent many years navigating the forest’s canopy. Higher up in the trees, the wind was harsher and the air less humid. From this far, Link could still see Linder — the northern windmills on the hills, the wooden canopies of Caldis’ atelier, the Grand Oak in the village square, the fabric garlands adorning the main street out west to the rest of Hyrule. The further he climbed, the gentler the shadow of Linder faded.
Eventually, a clearing emerged. The small pond in Faron was the hunters’ North Point, and generally how Link orientated himself in the less familiar northern regions of Faron. He dropped onto the cushioned ground a few hundred metres from the pond. The mist slowly gathered on top of it, swirling the light that spilled through. As he approached, a shaded figure stood on the other side. The figure was silent, still. Link drew his sword and walked around the pond, hidden by shrubbery.
A woman. No, a girl. She was leaning down slightly, looking at something in her hands. Link couldn’t see her face, but she had long, curly hair. It was a brilliant white colour. He’d never seen anything like it, anyone with hair so long or colourless. Her ears were longer than anyone’s he’d seen in Linder and she was wearing thick, deep coloured robes. Link gasped. Then covered his mouth
A fairy?
He’d heard about fairies from some of his neighbours. Supposedly, throughout Hyrule there existed springs guarded by fairies who could grant great power. No-one had seen these great springs in centuries, but multiple records tell of their existence. But why would one appear by a small pond out in the boonies?
Snapping out of his own thoughts, Link realised the girl had turned to face his direction. She was looking around frantically, a piece of parchment curled in her hand. Her eyes were pale, like her hair, and she had a long, thin nose that arched down from her white eyebrows. Her skin was fair and smooth. A youthful face without blemishes… sounds like a fairy.
“Hello? Is anyone there? I’m a little bit stuck here!” the fairy called out.
Her accent was funny. It reminded Link of the merchants that sometimes stopped in Linder for grain. He sheathed his sword and walked into the clearing.
On a closer look, the fairy stood next to a small, extinguished campfire and a bundle of blankets. Further away was a large leather bag of some kind. It was engraved with a symbol he couldn’t make out from this distance. What kind of fairy set up camp? And such a shoddy one at that.
The fairy turned to Link and let out a yelp. “Who are you? You’re not a monster, right? Because I’ve had enough of these freaky woods!” she wailed and held her head in her hands.
Link took a step back. Such a cowardly fairy… maybe she wasn’t a fairy at all. Just an unusual looking traveller. He dropped his weapons on the floor and came closer, touching her shoulder with a gloved hand. She looked up. Link smiled at her and gestured to her hand holding the parchment. Confusion seemed to have made her more pliant, so she opened her fist and let him pick it up. Her hand was hot to the touch and shaking. A glance over the parchment revealed it to be a map. Link sighed, he couldn’t read very well so he was glad to have a visual to work with. The map was of Western Hyrule. A dark cross was scored over somewhere in Central Hyrule, and matching, smaller crosses could be found across the map. Graphite lines connected the large cross to a route of smaller ones leading to a final destination southwest of Faron, in the mountains of the Gerudo region. If she was lost, she was really lost.
“You’re frowning at that thing. I’m really lost, aren’t I.” The traveller seemed to always be frowning.
He smiled back at her and shook his head (a little white lie), then took her hand in his. He motioned out a simple gesture to his mouth and throat.
“You have a cold?” Link giggled and signed again. “You’re mute? Oh! I know a little bit of Standard Sign, but I don’t know if you speak that here… sign that here?”
Link cocked an eyebrow.
“Ah!” she blushed. I… only know a little Standard Sign. Not much at all. Do you use Standard Sign or a local sign language?
You’re really good. Link signed back. But you take a long time with your signs. My name is L-I-N-K. Link. He made a gesture to his nose and head.
Stinky wolf? Itchy wolf? I don’t think I understand, the girl replied. Link could tell that she was stiff, but her hand movements were articulate. A textbook example.
Link. It’s my sign name. So I don’t need to fingerspell every time I say my name.
The girl’s mouth fell into a wordless “oh”
My name is… she paused and looked down at her hands. H-I-L-D-A.
Link shook her hand and signed, It’s nice to meet you, Hilda. I’m working right now, but I’m sure I can take a detour to bring you to my village.
“Thank you. It’s not too far, is it?” she asked, packing up her blankets and bag. Link gathered some soil and kicked it over the small campfire, before shaking his head. Not far at all.
He had forgotten to account for the extra time it took to walk on foot. Hilda seemed to prefer walking behind him, but it made Link uneasy. He turned back to her and she startled. She seemed quick to startle. I want you to walk in front. He tried to hide his smile. Hilda shook her head.
“I’d slow us down. You keep a good pace.”
You wouldn’t even walk beside me? I just want to keep you in my line of sight.
Hilda sighed and walked to his side. “Sorry, you have a point. I’m just insecure about how useless I am right now.” She looked to Link. “And before you say anything, I am. It’s alright, I’m good at other things.”
From where she was standing, Link could make out the pattern on her bag. It was a delicate coat of arms. In the centre was a repeating triangular symbol surrounded by wings. There was some writing he’d never seen before surrounding the arms. Yikes. Maybe this traveller was more important than he’d realised.
Just then, a blur of movement crashed into them from the shrubs. Hilda went rolling into the forest floor, slamming Link backwards into a tree. A very hungry-looking moblin began to walk over to Link. He unsheathed his sword (it was stupid of him to have sheathed it in the first place) and leapt to his feet. The moblin ran forward and caged him against the tree between its arms. Link lowered his sword’s hilt to his knees and jammed the blade upright. Then, a blinding flash. Link clattered back into the tree once again, wincing his eyes shut. When he opened them again, the moblin was nowhere to be seen. Black monster smoke had begun to wisp away where it had once stood. He frantically looked back to where Hilda had been laying to see her sitting upright with her hand extended towards him. Her pale palm was a bright, glowing red. She was shaking, her white curly hair splayed across the forest ground where it grew past her waist. The tumble had ruffled her clothes, and Link could finally see what she was wearing underneath her navy, fur-lined cloak. An ornate, purple dress with a beautifully embroidered loincloth wrapped as a belt. Her shirt cuffs had dainty glass buttons and the handcrafted details across her clothing looked like they were from whatever coat of arms was on her bag.
Link rushed over to Hilda’s side. Are you okay? Your hand looks hurt.
Hilda nodded, eyes still wide. “I thought you were going to die. I’ve killed a few of those moblins but that one seemed especially big. Somehow”
Wait. You’ve killed moblins before? Link sat down in front of her, shocked.
“Yeah. I can, um.” She looked at her hands again, then signed a shaky, use magic. That was magic.
They were both silent.
“Ah! I’m still not very good. I can’t use a lot of it in one go. That’s why my hands are shaky. I don’t think the heat thing is something I can train away, though.” More silence. “Sorry for not telling you earlier. I wasn’t sure what your people thought of magic. But now that I've gone and used it, I guess there’s no choice.”
Link put his finger to her lips in a hushing motion. Let’s just get up and find our way back. It’s cool that you know magic.
The eastern woodland surrounding Linder got a little more sunlight compared to the nearby forest, something Link was eternally grateful for now. Pale blue flowers grew on the edge of the hunters’ paths, learning from their regular footsteps. The hunters liked to dismiss the “hero” label everyone in the village gave them, even if some of them (mostly Mado) liked it. What kind of heroes use a weekly patrol rota or supply manual, anyway? Hunters reflected what they did better anyway. It made Link feel a little bit more like he was part of the forest. When he would go for a day patrol, little frogs and insects would come up to him, as if they were curious about this green giant swinging through the trees and stomping all over their houses. It was probably just because Link was quiet. Hilda was quiet, which Link appreciated. When he and Caldis would patrol together, his sister was always humming, or fidgeting with her gear, or starting a conversation in stage whisper. The path narrowed as they neared Linder. The trees there bent inward over the trail, old roots knotting through the earth like veins beneath skin. Link slowed his pace and held out an arm for Hilda to stop. She nearly walked into him.
“What is it?” she whispered.
Link crouched low. Fresh tracks, three-toed, heavy. It could only be bokoblins, and several of them. The mud beside the path had been churned recently, and one of the low shrubs had been snapped clean in half. He pressed two fingers against the broken wood. Sap still clung wet against his glove. They looked recent.
Hilda swallowed. “Can we go around?”
Link tilted his head uncertainly. The southern route added nearly an hour, and sunset in Faron was dangerous even for experienced hunters. He pointed upward instead.
“You climb trees?” Hilda asked weakly. Link gave her a look.
Five minutes later, Hilda was clinging to his back like a baby monkey while he scaled the trunk of a broad pine. Her long white curls tangled against his shoulder and every time his footing shifted, she made a tiny, horrified noise into his hood. She smelled like campfire smoke and spices. Link smelled like sweat and the two fruit bowls he’d eaten that morning.
You’re heavier than you look, he signed once they reached a stable branch.
“I’m trying not to die,” she hissed back.
Fair point.
The canopy carried them above the forest floor in careful silence. Link moved with practiced ease, swinging between branches where the trees grew close enough together. Hilda, meanwhile, looked one gust away from fainting. Below them, movement stirred. Three bokoblins wandered along the path beneath the trees. Red-skinned things with crooked spears and jutting teeth. One sniffed loudly at the air. Link stilled. The bokoblin’s ears twitched. Hilda’s fingers tightened around Link’s arm. Then, from somewhere deeper in the woods, came a shrill cry. The monsters immediately perked up and scrambled away through the undergrowth.
Link waited several moments before breathing again.
“What was that?” Hilda whispered.
Link didn’t answer immediately. He knew that sound. A keese swarm. The hunters usually burned their nests before spring warmed fully, but if one had formed this close to the village—
A distant scream tore through the forest. It was human. Link’s eyes widened.
Hilda startled as he abruptly dropped from the branch to the forest floor below. He landed hard, rolled, and looked up at her urgently. Stay here, he signed sharply.
“What? Absolutely not—”
Another scream, closer this time. Link was already running.
The forest blurred around him as he sprinted through roots and ferns. He vaulted fallen logs, ducked beneath hanging moss, and slid down a muddy incline toward the sound. The shrieking chatter of keese filled the air ahead. Then the trees opened. A merchant cart had overturned in a clearing beside the riverbank. One wheel spun uselessly in the mud while crates of produce floated downstream. Two horses thrashed against their harnesses in panic. And above them, keese, dozens of them.
The creatures swarmed in a cloud, diving at the merchants below. One old man swung a torch wildly while another tried desperately to cut the horses loose. Link unslung his shield and charged forward. A keese lunged at his face. He slammed it from the air with the shield’s rim and drove his sword upward through another. Black smoke burst across the clearing. More shrieks erupted overhead as the swarm shifted toward him. Good. Better him than the merchants. One attached itself to his shoulder. Its teeth pierced through the leather vest and Link grunted, wrenching it free before stomping it beneath his boot. Another clipped across his cheek. They were overwhelming. The swarm descended together, then fire exploded through the clearing.
A streak of crimson light tore through the air like a thrown spear. Half the keese vanished instantly in a burst of smoke and embers. The remaining monsters scattered upward in panic, and Link turned.
Hilda stood at the edge of the clearing, breathing hard. Her right hand was glowing bright red again beneath her sleeve.
“You said stay there,” she said breathlessly. “But I can’t ignore strange screams in a forest.”
The surviving keese regrouped overhead and Link pointed upward urgently. Hilda looked up just as the swarm descended toward her. Her eyes widened and Link moved before thinking. He tackled her sideways into the muddy grass as the swarm crashed where she’d stood moments earlier. Tiny claws scraped across his shield while wings battered his hood and shoulders.
Hilda gasped beneath him. “There’s so many—”
I have an idea, he signed frantically.
Link ripped the torch from the merchant’s hand and shoved it toward Hilda. Magic fire? he motioned. Understanding flashed across her face.
“Oh.”
She touched the torch and the flame exploded. Golden-red fire surged upward in a roaring column that illuminated the entire clearing. Heat slammed through the air. The keese shrieked in terror as the fire engulfed them. One by one they burst into black smoke, and silence fell suddenly across the riverbank.
The horses whined softly. Burning embers drifted through the damp air like fireflies.
Hilda stared at the torch in disbelief. “I didn’t mean to make it that large.”
One of the merchants slowly lowered himself to the ground. “…Hylia preserve us,” the old man whispered.
Link looked at Hilda. Hilda looked at Link. Both of them realised the same thing at once. The merchants had seen the magic. The merchants had seen them. The old man’s eyes moved from the scorched clearing to Hilda’s glowing hand. Fear crept slowly into his expression. Not awe, but anger. Hilda’s face paled, and Link stepped in front of her instinctively.
The second merchant, younger and bleeding from the arm, spoke carefully. “You’re from the capital.”
Hilda froze.
“Those ears,” he continued quietly. “You’re royal.”
The symbol on her bag. The strange accent. The magic. Link glanced back at her, and Hilda lowered her eyes.
“…We should go,” she murmured.
The old merchant suddenly grabbed Link’s wrist before he could move.
“Boy,” he whispered hoarsely, “if she’s who I think she is, you need to keep her away from soldiers.”
Link frowned.
The merchant looked toward the distant trees as though afraid someone stood listening already.
“She’s the runaway princess. Princess Zelda.”