White like the wisp of a ghost, a figment of days since passed. Atop a throne at the far reaches of a room, the red carpet unusually long down its unusually long expanse, candelabra's light flicker down its length, lit by a magic that never dims. The multitude of seats are empty and always are, and nothing but a slight mist pervades here curling across the floor and into the air, and this figure sits, relaxed, motionless, waiting for an audience that has yet to come.

The eyes are closed, head rested in its palm. The crown, bejeweled and beautiful but dingy with age rests upon the golden locks, and the only way you know that she is alive are by the little breaths visible as she takes them, long and calm. There is an aura which radiates about her as white as the gown she wears, and it emanates about her like the moon's glow on a foggy night.

The room is untouched, dust lingering on the floor, on the statues that line the walls. Cobwebs adorn the tiny corners of the ceiling, decorate the legs of the chairs. And the silence here is most unsettling of all, yet if you listen closely you can hear it - a soft humming barely discernable - a princess' lullaby from long ago.

Down, down the spiraling steps in this Great Tower and into the heart of the castle it is much of the same. Silence around every corridor except for the occassional metallic shuffle of armor, the soft clanking of steel boots in the distance. The roaming of the creatures here, none speaking, patrolling the hallways endlessly and without the knowledge of understanding why.

It is like the catacombs of fallen knights, Hylian nobility. Almost dead but still alive, their bodies moving but without purpose, and an anger instilled in them so deadly that should you come upon one you shall be smelt before even knowing it was to come.

It is this tale that Dianthus speaks solemnly to Celadore as he sits beneath the perished weeping willow tree, his head downcast, shoulders slumped. His pearlescent armor covers every inch of him, and it is most regal, hardly knicked or scratched. And it is of heavy materials, so heavy in fact that she wonders how he could fight wearing such armorement, nevertheless even stand up! His voice echoes through his helm, words issuing forth in a muffled and hushed way, and he moves not, almost as if his words are coming from someone who has passed from this world but the voice still lingers.

The way around the Forest Temple had been simple enough, not much there besides a few grass snakes that had attempted to lunge at her from the trees or beneath the overgrown blades, the side path small and narrow and quite hidden if she had not taken the time to search for it. Past it the pathway had opened up, revealing a courtyard and in the center of it, a large tree. She had taken her time here, walking slowly, almost admiring its somber appeal and wondering how it must have looked in its better days.

The doorway to the temple here at its back remained closed, and she felt a surge of worry for the man yet inside of its grey stoned walls. But she breathed calm, quelling her anxiety, and would wait for him here to come out alive and well, on the other side, like he had reassured her just a couple of hours or so before. She searched the trees for nests but saw none, just the dead and curling branches she had become so accustomed to seeing during her time in the woods.

It was here during her careful observations that she ate a stale piece of bread from her pack, famished and slightly light-headed she felt, and came across the odd looking knight sitting beneath the magnificent tree. The pole beside him resting on the trunk was quite long and sturdy and sharp, a mix between a lance and a thrusting sword, its hilt almost as tall as he but the blade pointed and yet sharp on each side as well.

"Hello," she had heard come from him, and it startled her at first because it was such a gentle voice. "Have you come through the temple?"

She was struck still momentarily, mid chew, but the voice was so kind that it eased her paranoia. Maintaining her distance she replied, "I ventured inside it but took the path 'round it here."

"Are you alone?"

"I'm afraid not."

"Where is your companion, then?"

"Not far," she had said.

"Ah," was all that had been heard from beneath his pearly helm.

It was quiet for a moment after that, Celadore slowly chewing, unsure, still a few paces away.

And then wistfully, he continued, "So much has changed, you'd almost believe it is an entirely different place. There are not many of us alive anymore, like you and I. Woe are the Goddesses who have brought this peril upon us." He sighed, long, drawn out. "Your companion is dealing with the Forest Sage?"

"He is probably just admiring the architecture and decor," she lied nonchalantly, her eyes narrowing.

A soft chuckle commensed from beneath the pearly helm, a slow 'ha.. ha.. ha' and a slight creak of his armor. And in a nostalgic way he then told her his name, Dianthus, and where he had come from. A narrow escape from Hyrule Castle, months and months of anguish on the fields. That he had been one of the Princess' higher guards, but that one day, he suddenly regained his desire to be more than just a catatonic figure roaming the halls near the doorway to her chambers.

"So you have seen the Princess?" she asks of him now, still a length away but now sitting amidst the dead, itchy grass.

"Oh, yes," he breathes.

"How did you manage to escape?"

But before he can reply, the large back doors of the Forest Temple swing open, and a quite sweaty and slightly charred Link emerges, standing still in the doorway as the light from the outdoors penetrates his vision. He shields his eyes with his forearm, hisses slightly at the brightness, rests his other arm against the stone doorframe to balance himself. His legs look as if they are about to give way, and there is a slime which covers parts of his face, chest and arms, greenish black and oily. There is blood on his legs, gashes across his pants where it appears something had almost whipped him, slicing through the fabric and skin underneath.

Celadore stands and rushes to him, lending an arm and shoulder to help his stance.

"I just patched you up," she says, eyeing him.

He glances at her from between the light disheveled locks that stick to his forehead, his blue eyes weary and says, "Just a scratch," a slight smile just then that fades as quickly as it had come.

"What happened to you?" she asks.

He only shrugs, his head falling slightly forward. "I will be fine, just need," and he starts to move forward, "to sit down for a moment." There is a flash of youth in his eyes as they falter, wavering like an uncertain boy from years ago.

And when he and Celadore look up to face the courtyard, he notices the pearly knight, standing now beneath the weeping willow tree. He moves not and Link mouths to Celadore, his eyes roaming her face, "who is that?" without saying it aloud.

"He.." she begins but is interrupted..

"Flame Wielder," Dianthus bellows in an oddly kind way, his voice louder but still interlaced with politeness. The lance is in his hand, positioned vertical, its tip facing the sky.

Link whispers to Celadore, his mouth near her left ear, "get the flask of potion and a poison antidote from my satchel quickly, please."

She nods but appears flustered, her amber eyes flickering nervously. She searches his left side finding the brown leather there as he leans against her, lifts the flap and slips her hand inside, a bit of rosy hue forming on her cheeks as she feels around the satchel's interior. She emerges with the flask and the brown envelope of pills, hands it to him and in seconds he downs the potion and pops the antidote in his mouth.

He nods to her briefly, a thank you in his own way, and removes himself from her care, trudging down the stone steps to the courtyard, rotating his right shoulder once, twice, cracking his neck from left to right. He crosses the area of perished grass with resolute, nears the pearly knight with his held held high even though the blood still creeps down his calves.

He says nothing as he stands no more than three feet away from the other, takes a deep breath, long, releases it slowly.

"And you are?" Link asks.

"A hero who has come before."

"And what have you been doing since then? Hyrule is in shambles. Everyone is dead. The towns are in ruin." He gestures around him to the sickened landscape before continuing, "what kind of hero -"

"and what kind of hero are you, then? Slaying the Forest Sage?" he interrupts.

"Have been waiting for me?"

"Yes and no," Dianthus replies.

"Why?"

The pearly knight positions his lance forward, its tip just inches from Link's face. "Our paths have crossed, and I am merely taking advantage of it."

"You wish to kill me?"

Dianthus is silent for a moment. "Not exactly, but if that is how it ends, so be it."

The clash of their weapons happens suddenly. Dianthus aggresive, Link reacting. The blow is strong and Link can feel it ripple throughout his arms as he holds his sword poised defensive. The ratio of energy here quite favoring Dianthus, as the blood continues to seep from the other's legs and the battle from just before he was part of still sapping whatever resistance he could muster. The potion's effects are short-lived and he can feel it tapering off and as he notices this a warning of anxiety pangs in his chest.

Celadore unsheaths her sword, steps closer. "How equal is a fight between men when one has been resting underneath a tree all day and the other just returned from battle?" she accuses. "Is there no honor to this fight, Dianthus of the Great Tower?!"

Clang!, the metallic strike of weapon against weapon.

The dead grass and solid earth are quite uncomfortable as Link falls upon it, knocking the breath straight out from his lungs upon impact. His body seizes and his features grimace and he knows he must move, must move before he is impaled through the heart. Yet every movement is like time in slow motion, the falling of sand in an hourglass, and Celadore decides she cannot wait for the sharpened pole to meet its end into the chest of her companion.

She is running now, swift and from behind the pearly knight. She is confident. However just as she raises her broadsword, Dianthus turns around quick and brings his lance with him, up and then down through the air. Through the armor adorning her left arm, through the mail and skin underneath, and lastly through bone until its entirety falls to the ground.

Her screams echo throughout the courtyard. Screams of anguish, excrutiating pain, sadness, terror. In Dianthus' side Link's sword stabs its tip, an opening between armor, thin and weak. He doubles back in surprise, faces him while snarling inside that pearlescent helmet, muffled, slight disbelief. As Link twists the sword in the stranger's flesh, he peers around the figure, eye on Celadore and what had become of her.

She lay rocking, holding the stump of upper arm still belonging to her whilst the rest remains beside her amidst the earth. They would need to take care of the bleeding quickly.

A slick manuever on Dianthus' part to rid himself of the blade to his side and a well-placed kick to Link's back sends him plummeting once again, face forward, and he meets Celadore on the ground. They make eye contact. Things aren't looking so good. That they both agreed without saying. And slowly now she reveals something in her hand, a white wrapping of linen or mueslin, and she asks his opinion of using it with this gesture alone and no words at all.

His breathing is deep, slow. The soil vibrates with each step he can feel Dianthus taking behind him, and all he can muster out is, "where did you..?"

And she whispers, "in the tree. The weeping willow."

His eyes look unsure but Link nods anyway, briefly, and that's all it takes for Celadore to squeeze the fabric and summon its owner into their existence.

Stealth was working for a time in the village with Sheik and Solari navigating its corners amidst the shadows. The skeletal archers among the rooftops broke their cover however, when one shot a well-aimed arrow almost directly into Solari's shoulder. It landed into the rotten wood planks of the building behind them, and they both shared a look that read something like, 'let's get the hell out of here,' before retreating around to the building's other side.

Sheik brandishes the dual daggers from his thighs and takes off running and she has no other choice but to follow suit. It is all well and good and it seems like they have cover for now but the fact that it appears as if Sheik is disappearing halts her in her tracks.

"Did you leave a summon?" she asks a bit frantically.

He feels it, a strange sensation of being pulled out from your skin. He glances at his hands and they are becoming translucent. Interesting, indeed.

"I did," he said.

"Wh- why?"

"The timing is poor, I apologize. I.. thought we would be on the mountain paths by now."

"Where is it taking you?!"

"The temple in the forest."

"The forest? When did you have time to go to the forest?!"

"I will return soon."

Solari opens her mouth again but no words come forth. It seems as if she is at a loss for words.

He nears her, appears to deliberate on how to console her. He does not know how. So he looks deeply into her eyes and says, "I know you do not trust me, Solari. You probably even dislike me?"

She says nothing. He continues with a sigh. "You would not be the first. You may question my motives, my morals, my very character if you feel so inclined, but I leave you now with the full intent on returning to aid you in your personal journey. However, please realize I have a journey of my own, the beginnings of which are calling me now."

And as he disappears from her sight she asks of him, "what shall I do in the meantime?" It is not safe here.

"Make your sister proud," he answers and all she if left with is vacant space.

A downward thrust through the air struck, defended by a mere dagger.

Dianthus reels in disbelief at the figure and its weapon that had seemed to materialize from nowhere. He snarls. "Bastard Sheikah! Go home to your shadows and hide with the rest of your cowardly lot!"

A simple laugh from beneath the cowl, one full of mirth and disdain is heard but nothing else as the elegant form of the Sheikah arcs back and then forward with momentum, small blade against the mighty lance pushing with supernatural strength, until Dianthus is knocked back, struggling to gain traction with his heavy pearlescent boots.

With this opportunity the summoned Sheikah looks to his left, eyes wide with the sight of the two figures against the dirt, a female with arm severed and a male bleeding from the legs and mouth. Had this massive knight rendered them so defenseless? Hmm. The female, possibly. Unfortunate parry on her part, most likely. The male is tired. Wounds on his legs that resemble whip lashings. Blood on his face from a forceful impact to the ground.

He throws a potion to Link who reacts as quickly as possible, downing it and moving closer to Celadore, at which he assess her bleeding and breathing.

"I'm as fine as I can be, considering," Celadore comments.

"Keep it raised," Link says.

"Show 'em what you've got," she says, her head motioning toward the fight ensuing nearby.

The potion's immediate effects have him temporarily re-energized, and he stands somewhat sloppily and runs toward the two engaged in combat. A nice strafe puts him behind the pearly knight at which he kicks straight in the back, sending Dianthus staggering for proper footing.

"Nice of you to join me," the Sheikah quips.

"Thanks for the potion," Link says, a wary expression on his features.

"I'm only here until the fight is over or you two perish, so let's try to avoid the latter."

"Sounds good to me."

A slick swoosh of tiny sharpened needles fly through the air from the Sheikah's fingers, some of which are extremely well-aimed and manage to slip in through the tiny slot on the helmet near Dianthus' eyes. His scream, like a garbled "yaaargh!" echoes at which one could not really blame him. He would not be able to see ever again.

"An arm for an eye!" yells Celadore as happily and with as much energy as possible, considering.

With Dianthus' hands crawling over his helmet in pain and confusion, trying to both remove the needles and his helmet at which neither is happening, Link tosses a tiny oil flask onto the pearly knight's panicking form and brings out his bow and arrow. Its tip lights up a majestic red and orange, the flame dancing, crackling in the air.

The glow reflects itself onto the Sheikah's eyes, and underneath his cowl is a slight, growing smile that none can see.

Link's form is beautiful as he stands poised, and in one fluid motion he aims and sends the arrow flying directly to Dianthus' side into a tiny sliver of exposed mail.

The flames are lovely.

The Sheikah watches for a moment, standing perfectly still. The heat rushes forth from the ground, makes the air look like its rippling.

Link's breathing is rushed, shallow.

"He is of fair hair and fair skin, like the moon here, with eyes of pale blue. A chiseled face like in the paintings of the noble heroes of old, height taller than I and even you but not extraordinarily so. He wears greens and brown and nothing fancy at all, armor on his shoulders, mail underneath. He has a cloak with a hood which he travels with, lots of weapons stashed here and there on his person. And.. he has always liked fire. Can add it to anything, wields it like it comes from his fingertips."

Malon's dialogue repeats itself in Sheik's mind as the fires engulf the pearly knight.

He watches the other of fair hair and fair skin and with eyes of pale blue run forward, unafraid of the flames he created, and into them, jabbing the knight's side once more with his sword that sends its victim onto the ground.

Link retreats quickly. The transparent effect materializes around the Sheikah, its pull once again beckoning him to whence he came, and Link walks toward him slowly, sheathing his bow but with sword still in hand.

"Leaving so soon?" he asks, a hint of sarcasm.

The Sheikah remains still, eyeing Link oddly. "He will be back," he says softly, gesturing to the body on the ground engulfed in flames. "It will take more than blindness and fire to defeat what come from the Great Tower."

"And you?"

"..and I?"

"Will you be back?"

Silence.

Link continues. "I find it rather odd that there was a white wrapping on a tree after a dangerous temple and not before it or inside of it. Surely if one could make it out alive to the usually peaceful courtyard on its other side, there would be no need for aid?"

"Certainly the need for aid was clear as I was summoned for it."

"For this pearly knight, one who waited specifically for me?"

".. are you typically this ungrateful?"

Link pauses but recoups with "Thank you for aiding your strength..." and he ends there for he does not know the other's name.

"Good luck," the Sheikah's voice faintly says as his body fades more and more and after that he is gone.

The space at which he once was is empty now, and beyond it he sees Celadore in the distance and he runs to her, falling to his knees before her form. The two take their time now and he gives her what care he can amidst the scent of burning flesh and its aftermath.