Just a couple notes! First, I've started posting an edited version of this story on ao3, so if you prefer to read there then you're welcome to go find it, though I think I'm only to chapter 9 or so. I decided to change a few things in editing, so if you do go check it out there (or if you're coming here from ao3), you'll probably notice that one of the story events goes.. a bit differently? XD Everything goes back to normal post-Ancient Cistern scene, and it doesn't actually affect the overall plot—I just made a story decision a little late in the game that I didn't feel like early characterization supported, so ao3's version was my chance to fix it. I might leave the version unchanged, though, just in case anyone's grown attached to it ;)

Also, I believe I had a reviewer (lol ages ago) asking about accessibility, and specifically podfic? If anyone wants to make this into a podfic then definitely hit me up, though I probably won't go searching for someone myself. I hope it at least helps that I'm putting it on ao3!

Thanks so much to everyone who left reviews and kept this story alive in my mind! I'll, uh, try not to wait another year before updating again, yeah? ;-;

The wind did not die away with the blazing light of the Triforce as it winked out of existence, leaving the world noticeably darker in its absence. If anything it blew harder, gusting across the sky with unnatural force and kicking up great, gritty clouds of dust and debris that pelted anyone unfortunate enough to be caught in its wake. The confused shouts of riders and their shrieking Loftwings were just audible from the surface over the wind's whistling roar, growing fainter as they fought their way up to calmer air. None of them noticed their little goddess standing before the doors of the temple staring up at her own statue in horror, or the captive sword spirit fallen to his knees beside her.

On some level, Ghirahim thought dully, he had always enjoyed believing that he held a thumb over the pulse point of Link's life, able to grant or deny it as he saw fit. It was a foolish notion, he knew—Link was too wild, too impulsive and prone to trouble to be so easily predicted or contained—but still, he had believed. Now he watched as, in a single instant, that illusion of control came crashing down. Tracking Link had long since become second nature to him, a constant, low-level perception only enhanced by the bond Link shared with his sword, and both in his mind and out of it, Link was simply... gone. Demise himself had not vanished more completely when he—after he—

Ghirahim's hands tightened slowly into fists, the soft leather of his long gloves creasing until it strained at the seams. No. No, he would need more proof than this to believe his newest master dead. Link had not survived so inconveniently so many times before, only to fall in sudden obscurity now. The hero of the goddess could never have been destined for such a pointless death—but he was gone, either shielded from Ghirahim's senses or separated from this world completely, and Ghirahim hadn't the first idea of how to go about finding him.

Worse, he realized with a tight sensation unpleasantly like panic, unless the spirit maiden deigned to bring his sword with her, Ghirahim would be trapped down here, unable to affect anything at all. As if she'd read his thoughts, Zelda's eyes half-flickered towards him, and cold dread pulled him to his feet. He'd seen the determination there, and the dismissal.

"Wait," he said, but she ignored him, whistling hard through her fingers. Though the sound couldn't possibly have carried over the wind, immediately he saw a deep violet Loftwing fighting its way towards them. "Wait."

He lunged for her arm, but she tore through his grip as easily as parting water, and Ghirahim gritted his teeth as Link's previous orders came back to him, taking hold. You will not impede our progress in any way.

"Don't touch me," she said, her eyes fixed on the approaching Loftwing. "I... I need to go..."

Her face twisted with indecision, and Ghirahim scowled, his mind racing.

"What you need to do is listen." How to make himself indispensable? "We have a common goal now, you and I. You know that I am incapable of harming you or anyone else, but I can help. Wherever Link has gone, I have the best chance of finding him."

"If Link is gone," she snapped, glaring up at him. "If this isn't all just something you organized in order to—to distract me, or—"

Ghirahim's scornful laughter cut her off, and Zelda's jaw tightened defiantly. She didn't believe that herself, he thought, though she wanted to.

"Your high opinion flatters me, but even I could not accomplish such a thing while sealed within a sword," he scoffed. "As for the truthfulness of my words, I tracked you once across a continent and could do the same for Link, so believe me when I say that he is—not—"

Ghirahim's breath caught mid-sentence, his head swiveling to stare up at the enormous statue where the Triforce had last been seen. The sensation was brief, only a flicker, and no stronger than an echo—but for just that moment, he had thought he felt Link. Alive, then… but where? And for how much longer?

"Of course," Zelda said softly, following his gaze, and Ghirahim cursed himself for being so obvious. "Perhaps the Triforce did not go far from its bearer." The indecision had cleared from her face, and Ghirahim realized bitterly that he'd granted her the perfect solution to ease her conscience. Her duty to the Triforce couldn't help but clash with her duty to find her friend, after all—unless, of course, they could both be found together.

"Wait," Ghirahim said again, knowing he'd run out of time. The violet Loftwing finally settled in front of its master, lowering one wing towards her as she sprinted forward to mount it. "You can't… I have not dragged that witless boy out of danger so many times already only to stand here helplessly while he—while—"

He clenched his fists, appalled at his own lack of composure. Words had never abandoned him so thoroughly before, but they failed him now, the eloquence he took such pride in vanishing under the heavy weight building in his chest. The fires of rage he knew and could handle, and even sinuous fear was no stranger, but this cutting unease that tightened his throat and stunted his breathing… this was foreign, and Ghirahim hated it.

Zelda looked back at him, opening her mouth to respond—and paused, something unsettled in her eyes as she swung her leg slowly across her Loftwing's back.

"You… actually do care, don't you?" She said it like an accusation. Tearing her eyes away, she gripped her Loftwing's lead tightly. "I'm sorry."

He almost thought she might mean that, for all the good it did him. Kicking her Loftwing's sides, the two rose unsteadily through the turbulent air, the giant bird crying out as it carried her up to the top of the statue of Hylia. So close, almost within sight, but with the sword in the temple still trapping him like an anchor, entirely out of reach.

A seething part of Ghirahim wanted to rage at the goddess, to tear the air apart with his helpless fury, but such a display could only be rendered insignificant by the churning tumult of the sky above. Instead, he tossed back his cloak and began to pace, not minding the frenzied wind that whipped it right back around. Surely even Zelda could feel that this was no ordinary storm, though the source of the tempest still escaped him. Each passing second pressed like a physical weight on his shoulders, and he channeled that urgency back into furious thought, skirting uneasily around the gaping hole Link had left like a wound in his mind. For all that Link had only occupied that space for a fraction of a second over the span of Ghirahim's existence, the void left in his absence felt vast.

Ghirahim had sensed the golden power shining through Link in those moments before he vanished altogether—the same power that had coursed through him in that cursed forest not so long ago. Link surely could not have called on the Triforce so strongly while it hung in the sky so far away… could he? Except the alternative made somehow less sense. Even the Triforce must occupy physical space, preventing it from existing in two places at once.

The answer felt on the tip of his long tongue, as if he might open his mouth and speak it—but before he could pin it down further, he felt the same echoing sensation that had distracted him earlier, and turned once more to stare at the goddess's statue. He could almost think that a curtain had parted briefly to reveal Link's existence, only to fall shut again, hiding him altogether. A… gateway, perhaps, offering glimpses of the other side each time it opened? Demise had created its like for his battle with the chosen hero—as had the goddess, he remembered suddenly, that strange day on Eldin when he'd conversed with the Master Sword's spirit spinning up from the depths of his mind. If so, then who had created it? More importantly, where did it lead?

Immersed in his own thoughts, it took Ghirahim a few extra seconds to notice that one of the Loftwings escaping out of the sky was, in fact, drawing closer—a Loftwing, he realized with abrupt anticipation, that bore a rider. He tracked the bird's arduous approach with fevered intensity, more certain with each passing moment that he himself was the intended destination though he couldn't yet make out the rider. Not the goddess, of course, and certainly not Link. It almost didn't matter who they were, as long as they had the weak sort of mind that was open to coercion—though if his puppet had decided to return, it would make things that much easier…

The somewhat familiar-looking boy who finally landed his Loftwing beside Ghirahim was certainly not the red-haired hulk he had hoped for, though Ghirahim decided after a moment that he still had potential. The timid curve to his shoulders was a promising feature, not exactly the mark of intense, internal strength. Still, it was curiosity as much as fear that twisted his soft, doughy features as he stared up at Ghirahim in awe.

"You're G-Ghirahim?" he said. It wasn't really a question despite the hesitant upturn to his voice, but Ghirahim still nodded in acknowledgement. "I've… I've heard about you."

Ghirahim arched an eyebrow at him, knowing that the wind tossing his cloak out behind him must make him an impressive sight.

"And still you've come seeking me out… Fledge," he added, frowning as the name came floating up from the depths of his mind, and the boy jumped in surprise. Of course. This child had handled his sword—for a brief time, at least. "Any particular reason why?" Carefully. He couldn't afford to scare him away.

"Umm…" Fledge hesitated. Testing the waters, Ghirahim took a tiny step forward, and masked his impatience as Fledge took two nervous steps back. "Zelda told me what you can do."

"Did she?" Ghirahim murmured dryly. Could he teleport to reach the boy? Doubtful… he already hovered just at the edge of his sword's invisible leash. "It is a wonder then that you have wandered anywhere near me… though I assure you, I have been rendered quite harmless."

Fledge swallowed audibly, but when he met Ghirahim's searching gaze, his brown eyes were steady. Though the two boys had little in common, it somehow reminded him of Link.

"Link told me about you, too," he said, and even his voice sounded stronger now, as if he'd reached some inner decision. "I think he's in trouble. Can you help him?"

"You saw what happened to Link?" Ghirahim asked sharply, forgetting in an instant his resolve not to startle the boy. Fledge went pale, nodding quickly. "Where is he?"

"Link is—" Fledge stammered, "or I mean, he was—"

Shakily, he pointed up towards the goddess statue, and Ghirahim's eyes narrowed. So he'd been right.

"I don't know what happened!" Babbling words escaped Fledge in a sudden rush. "We—we were just talking, but then Link started acting really weird and saying—I don't know what he was saying—"

"Talk while you walk," Ghirahim snapped, suiting his own words and striding towards the temple. "Talk while you run. I need your help to reach him, and there isn't much time."

For a tense second, he thought Fledge might not follow… but then the boy was stumbling towards him, jogging to keep up with his long strides, and Ghirahim allowed himself a quick huff of relief. He had not felt any echoes from the gateway since the first two to prove Link's continued existence. It might have meant nothing, but…

"Take my sword," he commanded, throwing open the doors to the temple, and was half-surprised when Fledge obeyed, scurrying to pick it up from where Zelda had carelessly let it fall. It seemed that he might not need to waste time molding a new puppet after all. Remarkable.

"Link jumped off the edge of Skyloft!" Fledge said urgently, picking up his disjointed story where he'd left off. "Without calling a Loftwing, I mean. He just fell, and then—then there was this bright light, and—"

"Easier to show me, I think." Much easier than sifting through Fledge's stuttering attempts at an explanation. "Come."

Ghirahim held out a hand to take, which Fledge eyed warily, finally showing a healthy dose of caution.

"I've seen how Link looks when he talks about you," he said bluntly, searching Ghirahim's face. "Link trusts you. Should he?"

For the second time that day, Ghirahim opened his mouth only to find that the words inside had not arranged themselves properly. What did Link look like when he spoke about him to others? What did he say?

"There is nothing I want more in this world than to see Link returned here safely," he said at last, startled as he spoke them to realize that those words were true.

In this case, honesty served him well. Relaxing, Fledge took Ghirahim's outstretched hand—shaking it, Ghirahim realized in amusement, as if they'd struck a deal. In a way, perhaps they had.

"Okay," he said. "I don't know if my Loftwing can carry us both through this storm, but maybe if—"

"Your permission to transport us both?" Ghirahim said impatiently, Link's previous orders still binding him, and Fledge blinked in surprise.

"I… yes? How are you going to—"

Diamonds enveloped them both, cutting Fledge off mid-sentence.

"My way was faster," Ghirahim told him, releasing Fledge's hand as the diamonds retreated a fraction of a second later. Ignoring Fledge's belated gasp of shock, Ghirahim looked around.

He knew immediately that they had come to the right place, even if Link remained as determinedly absent as ever in his mind. Though he could still see evidence of the wind raging around them in the dark clouds that pushed each other furiously across the sky, the small pocket of air where they stood was eerily calm—the eye of the gathering storm. The temple's courtyard spread out far beneath them now, its front doors barely visible from their newly lofty vantage point, though as he turned to face the large statue in whose hands they now sheltered, Ghirahim found that the platform was not quite as empty as it had appeared from below.

"You two," Groose growled, recovering from his surprise quickly and folding his meaty arms in what he seemed to believe was a threatening manner, but Ghirahim's eyes skipped right past him to what he was guarding. There was nothing unusual about the patch of air behind him at first glance. A person in a hurry might have walked right past it without noticing anything amiss… but as Ghirahim looked deeper, the air seemed itself twisted mirage-like in front of him, the subtly flickering effect confined within three equally distant corners the exact shape and size of the Triforce.

If it was a gateway, it was unlike any Ghirahim had ever seen or created. He tensed slowly as he examined it despite himself, disturbed to even stand in its unnatural presence.

"Link jumped… from up there?" he surmised, turning his gaze to where Skyloft hung directly above them. Nervously, Fledge nodded beside him. "And he landed…"

"Don't ignore me," Groose snarled, shoving a finger in Ghirahim's chest—and abruptly, he had Ghirahim's full attention. Taking a few, unwilling steps back, Ghirahim raised a hand to where the thick finger had struck him in disbelief. Impossibly, the feeble gesture had hurt. "Fledge must be even dumber than I gave him credit for to drag you into this, but it doesn't matter. Zelda told me what you did to me, and you're not gonna get the chance to do it again—and nobody's going through this portal unless I say so."

"You don't get to talk about me like that anymore!" It was Fledge who spoke up, snapping in a way that Ghirahim thought must have been unexpectedly bold of him from the way Groose gaped. "Whatever's going on now, it happened because we thought we knew what was best for Link. Maybe… maybe he can help fix things."

"He doesn't fix things," Groose growled, jerking a head towards Ghirahim. "He should still be rotting away wherever Link found him. What's the matter, pretty boy?" he added when Ghirahim stayed silent. "Remlit got your tongue, or did you finally run out of words?"

Groose smirked as if he thought his juvenile insults had struck a blow, though in reality they slid off Ghirahim unnoticed. No human should have had the strength to bruise him, not even one as muscular as Groose, yet his chest was still sore from a simple touch. Experimentally, Ghirahim extended a small probe of magic to see if his influence still held at all, unlikely though that was if Zelda had discovered it—and took another startled step back, nearly falling off the platform entirely as an unstoppable golden force repelled him, a bright nimbus flashing briefly around Groose in retaliation to the intrusion that neither human seemed able to see. It couldn't possibly be Zelda's doing. Nothing she'd managed so far even hinted at that level of knowledge or power—but perhaps…

Link, you idiot.

"I trust Link," Fledge insisted, their argument rising above Ghirahim's thoughts. His rosy cheeks were stained a burning, angry red now that Groose's face easily matched.

"And you think I don't?" he demanded. "I'd trust Link with my life, but as for him—" again he jerked his head towards Ghirahim, as if saying his name out loud was beneath him— "he deserves to be tossed off a cliff. Hasn't anyone told you what he's done?"

"Everyone's told me what he's done." Fledge sounded exhausted. "For two weeks, that's all I've heard from anyone, but… if Link knows all that and still trusts him, don't you think there might be a reason?"

"Yeah," Groose said, his face like stone. "The reason is that Ghirahim is a conniving snake, and Link is too trusting by half."

"But—"

"Listen, Fledge, I promised Zelda that nobody was coming in after her, and I'm gonna keep that promise." He stretched ostentatiously, his hand brushing across the hilt of the sword sticking up over his shoulder. "Whatever it takes."

Fledge's mouth fell open at the obvious implication, and he stammered again, taken aback.

"B-but—"

"Save your breath, Fledge." Ghirahim spoke up suddenly, giving Groose a deliberately provocative smirk. "This oaf has loved the taste of power far too many times to give it up now that he has a righteous cause to back him. Once a bully, always a bully… isn't that right, Groose?"

Fledge took a quick step away from him, looking worried, but it was Groose who Ghirahim watched closely. He seemed momentarily stunned by the accusation, though he shook it off soon enough.

"What do you mean by that?" he said in a low voice that he clearly intended to sound threatening, and Ghirahim didn't have to fake the laughter that escaped him, light and mocking in comparison.

"You think I don't know?" He didn't know, not really. Not the specifics. All he had to go on was that rich vein of guilt in Groose's mind, all centered around Link, and everything he'd observed from him and Fledge… but he thought he could afford a few stabs in the dark. "I've been inside your mind, Groose. A little blind boy, how could you? Did it make you feel bigger? Stronger?" His smirk deepened. "Better?"

"What are you doing?" Fledge whispered frantically, but Ghirahim waved him off, a plan taking shape in his mind. Slipping past Groose to the gateway would be child's play whatever the brutish boy thought, but if he tried to enter without his sword… well, Ghirahim thought he'd rather not find out what a forced separation of that magnitude would do to him. If, however, he and his sword were reunited… if either of these boys could be convinced or coerced to sheathe the sword inside him once more…

Ghirahim doubted that Fledge would have the stomach for it, not without a lot of time wasted convincing him, but Groose was already breathing heavily, his raging hatred starting to get the better of him. That guilt of his was as malleable as ever, if no longer by magical means, and Ghirahim thought he knew exactly how to twist it.

"Do you know?" He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "It seems almost hypocritical that your Zelda would choose one of Link's tormentors to guard him from another. Perhaps she only grants second chances to those who show her the proper amount of… worship?" He smiled suggestively, and Groose clenched his fists. "Not that it's particularly fair to compare the two of us. I only wanted to kill Link, not make his life a living hell."

"You shut up!" Groose roared, finally drawing his sword, and Fledge made a weak noise of protest.

"Groose, don't—you don't want to—"

"Not to fear," Ghirahim said, allowing himself a brief moment of triumph even as he eyed Groose's sword disparagingly. "A toothpick like that wouldn't even scratch my skin. It would take a truly powerful blade to ever pose any real danger to me."

He let his eyes stray towards the black blade held loosely in Fledge's hands for perhaps a few seconds longer than he might have for a more cunning opponent, certain that Groose had all the subtlety of a wooden mallet—and sure enough, Groose's gaze followed his without a hint of suspicion. He could almost see the gears turning in his simple mind: if his own blade couldn't harm Ghirahim, then perhaps that dark, demon-forged sword over there…

Ghirahim stepped closer, presenting himself as a more immediate threat, and Groose stumbled unwillingly back towards the portal, though he caught himself quickly. In the moments before he did, Ghirahim felt it again with a rush of relief: that curtain parting in anticipation to briefly reveal Link.

"Stay back!" Groose barked, raising his flimsy sword higher. "You can't hurt anyone! Zelda told me."

"She is correct," Ghirahim agreed, falsely pleasant. "Or at least, she was." Another step forward to close the distance, a dagger summoned to float between them, and a final, verbal strike. "Link's orders bound me when he was in this realm… except now, it seems he is somewhere else entirely. I can't help but wonder whether those orders still—"

Groose dove towards Fledge, tearing the black sword out of his unsuspecting hands to level it at Ghirahim—and Ghirahim realized that there was at least one thing he'd forgotten to take into account as the golden power that protected Groose flared into being, resistant against even his sword. He stiffened, the dagger dissolving into air as pain radiated from the depths of his hidden core.

"No!" Fledge yelped, diving too late after the stolen weapon, though Groose kept it out of his reach easily. "Don't—you shouldn't—"

But Fledge stopped, glancing nervously between them and biting his lip. Ghirahim's words had rattled him, too.

"You heard him," Groose snarled, golden light beaming out of him. "He tried to kill Zelda, and he tried to kill Link. I'm not just gonna stand here while he tries to kill—"

He cut off, and Fledge yelped again as Ghirahim fell to his knees, pain curling relentlessly through even his farthest extremities.

"What are you doing to him?" Fledge asked in a high-pitched voice, and Groose grunted, uncertain himself as he looked at the sword in his hands.

"I'm not—I don't think I—" His voice hardened. "This is some kind of trap, right? It has to be!"

Ghirahim couldn't help it—he laughed, a soft, groaning sound that hissed through his teeth. Groose would choose the worst possible time to hesitate.

"Let me guess," he breathed in a labored voice. "You tried to take Link away… to bring him to me as instructed… and Link resisted. He used the Triforce to…"

He could imagine it all too well now. Link had always valued freedom, even in others, even in Ghirahim, and their walk through the forest had only twisted that value to obsessive heights. If Link, unaware of the holy power bleeding out of him, had known something was wrong with Groose and known the likely cause… well, he would have fixed it. Fixed it too much, apparently, pushing Ghirahim out of Groose's mind and then some as the Triforce created the perfect antithesis to everything Ghirahim was.

"Link did this?" Groose said slowly, staring between Ghirahim and the sword in confusion. Tentatively, he ran his hand along the flat of the blade, and jumped as Ghirahim screamed.

"Well… this has worked out better for you than you ever could have hoped, hasn't it, Groose?" Ghirahim ground out, once he'd caught his breath. He could feel the golden magic eating at him, attempting to push him away even as Groose refused to let him go. "If you think I deserve to die, then get it over with! Torture me any longer, and admit that you were never any better than me at all."

"I'm not—stop saying—" To Ghirahim's utter relief, he felt the tip of his own sword press against his chest, though the avenging anger had vanished from Groose's golden eyes. They looked wide and indecisive. "I know what I did, but Link forgave me! He—"

Ghirahim's laughter was no less mocking for its strain.

"He forgave me too! Do you think that matters?" He gathered the strength for a sinister, sharp-toothed smile, though it might have come out as a grimace. "Welcome to the forgiven."

Groose stabbed forward almost compulsively, his eyes widening with instant regret as he tried to pull it back—but the sword held fast, sinking in slowly despite Groose's increasingly frantic attempts to pull it back out.

"Fledge, help!" he yelled, tugging uselessly at the hilt. "I'm not pushing it in, I swear! It's just—"

Finally, he let the sword go, and a gasp of relief escaped Ghirahim's lips as the inferno of pain raging through him fell immediately to a smolder, fading more with each passing second. Inch by inch, the sword sank through his chest and was absorbed, its black metal swallowed steadily by gray skin as Groose and Fledge watched in stunned horror.

"I—I think he planned this," Fledge whispered to Groose in awe, turning almost gray himself as the last inch of blade vanished and even the hilt was pulled in, though Ghirahim barely noticed either of them any longer. He knew he was laughing wildly, practically heaving with the manic peals that burst out of him. He could feel the invisible chains that bound him dissolving, the sword no longer anchoring him because it was a part of him. How had he lived for so long under such restraints?

At last, the tip of his faceted pommel disappeared, vanishing into his chest without a mark, and Ghirahim took in a deep, sustaining breath that seemed loud in the sudden stillness. Then he vanished in a cloud of diamonds, only to reappear atop the goddess statue's head with his arms spread exultantly wide, reveling in the still unfamiliar feeling of freedom coursing through him.

"Now that," he said, drawing the searching humans' attention up towards him, "was a rejuvenation I desperately needed." He could go wherever he wanted now—to Skyloft, to the surface, to the land of demons or beyond… but instead he studied the gateway still hovering below.

The longer he stood near it, the more convinced Ghirahim became that there was something wrong about it, as if the very air surrounding it was somehow… unraveling. The wind outside their little bubble of protection had not abated in the slightest. Even from up here, Ghirahim could feel the edges of it ruffling his hair and tossing his cloak in agitation. Whatever magic was afoot, that portal stood at the center of it—which meant that the smartest place to be was one hundred miles away from the thing. A thousand miles. In another realm entirely, if such a thing was possible.

"Did Link say anything before he jumped?" Ghirahim called down to the still dumbstruck humans. "Anything to indicate a plan other than sheer stupidity?"

"Ummm…" Fledge said, looking at Groose uncertainly. "Just something about time… and riddles?"

"And wishes," Groose said, sounding surprised that he'd spoken up. Even from this distance, he looked shaken. "Link said he never… never made his wish."

Time, and riddles, and wishes. Ghirahim sighed, and made his decision.

"I promised you Link's safety, did I not?" he asked Fledge, whose eyes widened. Maybe he hadn't, come to think of it, though it changed nothing. "Let's see if a demon lord can keep his promise."

Launching himself into a graceful dive from the goddess's head, Ghirahim entered the gateway as Link must have done—from above. His last coherent thought before the world turned white was that his master would be paying off this debt to him for lifetimes to come.

Link sat up in bed with a strangled gasp, his hand outstretched as if reaching for something… and looked around in dazed confusion. Dim, golden light suffused his empty bedroom, catching motes of dust like glitter that shimmered and sparkled through the air around him. Shaking his head, Link stared in consternation at the faded green blanket pulled over his lap. Only seconds before, he'd been falling—no, sleeping. The bed and the blanket proved that. He'd been sleeping, and now he was awake, so… it must be time to get up.

In disbelief that he'd needed to reason such a simple thing out, Link pushed off the blankets and stood up, walking towards his wardrobe. If it was morning and he was awake, then he really should get some clothes on—

Flash.

Pushing open the heavy doors of the Knights Academy, Link paused. Hadn't he just been about to get dressed? ...No. No, of course not. He was wearing his knight's tunic, after all—as clean and as neatly pressed as if it hadn't been torn up and mended a hundred times before. He must have already done that, and then decided to go outside.

The golden light was more pervasive out here, with the Triforce gleaming steadily in the sky above. Link crossed the courtyard with no real destination in mind, content to feel the ever-present breeze of Skyloft that brushed the hair from his face and sent the tip of his hat flapping behind him. Past the academy into town, he could see colorful pennants fluttering in that same breeze, with the larger windmill turning steadily in the distance—though oddly enough, there didn't seem to be any people up and about yet.

Link frowned to himself as he realized that he hadn't seen or heard a single person since he woke up. There had to be somebody else here, right? He couldn't be the only—

Flash.

Link crossed the courtyard with no real destination in mind, content to feel the ever-present breeze of Skyloft that brushed the hair from his face and sent the tip of his hat flapping behind him. The sound of laughter reached him, and he watched in amusement as Gully and Kukiel went chasing after a beetle together, their overly large bug nets waving above their heads as they ran. The ringing clang of a distant hammer said that Gondo was at his forge, and in the distance he could see a group of women chattering over laundry, though Pipit's mom seemed somehow to have forgotten hers.

"Hey there, Link! Off to explore the surface again today?"

Turning around, Link saw Pipit approaching him with a beaming smile, his yellow uniform as neatly pressed as Link's. Gold light glinted from his eyes—a reflection of the Triforce above?

"I think so," Link found himself saying, though he hadn't had any specific plans to do so until that moment, and Pipit's smile beamed brighter.

"Excellent!" he said, clapping Link across the shoulder. "It's dangerous down there, of course, but I know you can handle yourself."

Link shrugged off Pipit's hand, feeling inexplicably annoyed. That wasn't what you said when I was blind, he thought… and froze as the world began to dim around him, all but the golden light dwindling into darkness. His heart pounded drum-like in his chest. Where had that thought come from? What was—

Flash.

"Hey there, Link! Off to explore the surface again today?"

Turning around, Link thought he'd somehow expected to see Pipit approaching him, gold light glinting off his eyes as he smiled brightly.

"That's the plan," Link said, shrugging, and Pipit's smile beamed brighter.

"Excellent!" he said, clapping Link across the shoulder. "Don't forget to take your sword. It's dangerous down there!"

Link rolled his eyes, but nodded, waving as Pipit went jogging off. Typical Pipit, always just a little too protective. As if Link would ever forget his sword. He'd put it on along with his knight's tunic, just like he did every morning.

Reaching over his shoulder just to feel the hilt reassuringly, Link instead found himself drawing it out, frowning as he examined the long, silvery blade. It was the Master Sword, of course, the only sword that the chosen hero of the goddess would ever want or need… but for some reason, he had almost expected to find—

The sword in his hands lengthened, blackened, its straight edges turned sinuously jagged as the golden gem at the base became a vivid red, and Link's breath caught. Yes, this sword belonged to him, too. He'd almost forgotten… but he didn't need two swords. Which one did he want?

In an instant, the sword was silver again, and then black, shifting back and forth in quick succession as Link gritted his teeth. Didn't he know what he wanted? Why was it so hard to dec—

Flash.

"Hey there, Link! You headed out flying today?"

Link was not surprised when he turned around to find Pipit approaching, his golden eyes as bright as his smile.

"I think so, yeah," Link said, deeply relieved for some reason he couldn't put his finger on. Much better than his original plan to go exploring the surface.

"Excellent!" Pipit said, clapping Link across the shoulder. "Have a good time out there! The clouds are beautiful today."

They really were, Link thought, eyeing the pastel, whimsical shapes in the sky with a sense of wonder. He couldn't wait to get on his Loftwing and—

Flash.

Link gripped his Loftwing's back tightly, careful not to disturb its neat, gold-tipped feathers as he inhaled the familiar, slightly dusty scent of the bird beneath him. The wind that ruffled his tunic was the perfect balance of warm and cool, and Link closed his eyes, content to let it toss carelessly through his hair as he flew. The distant sound of a girl's voice calling his name didn't bother him at all, flowing seamlessly along with the wind… though eventually he did grow restless, opening his eyes again to look around.

"Link?"

The clouds were as fancifully arranged as they'd seemed from below, pale pink in a golden sky. Skyloft itself hovered in the distance, colorful and picturesque like a painted toy village. The statue of the goddess loomed over his home protectively, the Triforce shining from her sheltering arms.

Small green islands hung like dangling gems in the sky around him, and his Loftwing sent impressions to his mind of each one that they passed—a scattering of smaller islands to his right, a larger one beneath him to his left. Link didn't exactly mind, though he wondered why it stuck to the task so faithfully. He could see the islands for himself, after all. It wasn't as if he needed someone to tell him—

Flash.

Small green islands hung like dangling gems in the sky around him as he flew, and Link admired each of them as they passed. His Loftwing flew quietly beneath him, as content as he was to fly in peaceful silence, and Link stroked its feathers absently, watching the way they glistened in the golden light and admiring that, too.

"Link! Please, if you can hear me—"

It would be nice to have somebody flying with him, he thought, not entirely sure where the thought had come from but entertaining it nonetheless. Link could remember flying with somebody once, on a peaceful day like this one. He wished—

Flash.

"—I need you to liste—ahh!"

Link smiled as Zelda gripped him tightly from behind, the wind stealing the words from her mouth as they dove together through the sky. His Loftwing carried them placidly, unbothered by the extra weight. From the arms wrapped around him, he could see that she had on the pink dress that she'd worn for his Wing Ceremony. That had been the last time they'd flown together like this… the day when that tornado had—

Flash.

From the arms wrapped around him, he could see that she had on the white dress of the goddess Hylia—

Flash.

From the arms wrapped around him, he could see that she had on her knight's uniform again, the same one that she'd worn every day since earning it at her own Wing Ceremony, and wondered why he'd noticed something so unremarkable.

"Please stop that!" Zelda gasped, and Link glanced back to look at her, surprised to find her wide-eyed and scared. Not what he wanted. "We need to talk, Link! Can we please go somewhere where we can t—"

Flash.

"—alk?"

Zelda's mouth dropped open, and she staggered to her feet, turning in a quick circle as if not quite believing where she was. Link didn't understand why. The two of them were in his bedroom, Link seated at his desk with wood and knife in hand as she watched him from his bed—the same as they had done countless times before, talking to each other late into the night.

"Are you the one doing this?" she asked shakily, settling back slowly onto the bed. "You are, aren't you? But how?"

Still debating over what to carve, Link eyed her askance. Zelda's eyes were blue, he noticed—not gold, like Pipit's. He wondered if that mattered.

"Do you—do you even know what you're doing?" she asked.

Link laughed at the question, holding up his block of wood in clear demonstration. He was carving.

"...I see."

After that, she seemed content enough to sit and watch Link work, frowning between him and the Triforce peeking through the window outside. Link was content enough to let her, rounding off the wooden block's corners idly with still no real idea of what he wanted to carve. The only mild irritation was his room's lack of a lamp, which he'd never thought to question before now. The golden light from outside was constant, but not quite enough to work off of. Was he just supposed to carve in the dark, or—

Flash.

Link adjusted the light of the small lamp at his desk and leaned back in his chair again, absently whittling away.

"It has to be you," she said slowly, giving the lamp a hard look. Link raised a half-interested eyebrow, but didn't interrupt. "But why would you have done that? Unless—" She inhaled sharply. "Link… can you see?"

Link stopped carving.

"Why wouldn't I… be able to…" Link's heart pounded in his chest as the vision in the corner of his eyes began to dim, and Zelda looked around nervously, her hands raised in a placating gesture.

"No reason!" she said quickly. "That was a silly question, I'm sorry."

Link relaxed as the light returned, and the moment passed. The piece of wood in his hands was beginning to resemble a head, and he decided to go with that, hollowing out a neck above a sturdy set of shoulders for it to sit on.

"I know where we are, but—" Zelda cut off, sounding worried. Link shrugged, not sure where the cause for concern was. He knew where they were, too. Nothing strange about being in his bedroom. "It shouldn't look like this. The Triforce shouldn't work like this, not even for you. Not even if you hadn't made your—"

She went quiet again, for longer this time. The carving was coming together quickly now, though he still wasn't quite sure who he'd decided to carve. It might have been nobody in particular… somebody made up from his mind, perhaps? Smoothing out the asymmetrical cut of the figure's hair—it had to be perfectly neat, he knew that much—Link wondered why he'd decided to give it only one ear.

"You never made your wish," Zelda whispered, and the fear in her voice made him pause, a nameless worry of his own eating away at his chest. "Of course. That's why you told Groose… oh Link, you weren't wrong, exactly. You do need to make one, or else—or else who knows what will happen, but—you only get one, do you understand? Right now the Triforce knows it needs to be used, so it's trying to grant every little wish that pops into your head… but it's not meant to work like that, Link. Not even the Triforce all-powerful. You need to decide."

"I…" Realizing that his hands were shaking, Link set his knife down carefully. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Zelda sighed in helpless frustration.

"There must be a reason you can't remember," she muttered. "But is it because you don't want to, or because…" Her eyes strayed towards the Triforce. "What is the last thing you remember?"

"Flying with you," he said, still staring at his own hands.

"And before that?" she insisted, and Link's brow furrowed.

"Talking to Pipit."

"And before—"

Zelda's flow of questions stopped, and she glared, though Link had the strangest feeling that she was glaring past him somehow.

"You shouldn't be here," she said coolly. Link glanced over his shoulder, but saw no one.

"Neither should any of us," a man said with a dry laugh, though something about his voice slid through one of Link's ears and out the other without catching his comprehension, melding seamlessly into the night. "Yet here we all are."

"This isn't a game," Zelda hissed. "Do you have any idea how delicate this situation is?"

Link shook his head, taking up his knife once more. Whoever Zelda was talking to, it clearly wasn't him, and he was almost done with his carving now—in record time, he thought uneasily, and immediately forgot.

"Perhaps you've forgotten how 'delicate' things are on the other side?" the man hissed back. "If Link is right here, then why haven't you—"

He stopped talking. Link ran his knife over the wood, unconcerned.

"He can't hear me," the man said slowly. Flatly. "What's wrong with him?"

Zelda sighed.

"Neither of us really exist here unless he… acknowledges us, I think," she muttered. "This is, quite literally, his world. Ghirahim—"

"What did you just say?" Link said sharply, and Zelda jumped in alarm as if she'd forgotten he was still listening.

"Nothing," she said quickly. "I… it wasn't important. Link—"

But Link shook his head, staring at the completed figure of Ghirahim in his hand as it all came rushing back. Before flying and before Pipit, before falling and before Fledge and Groose, before being caged in his room… there had been a sword. There had been Ghirahim. Link had wanted to keep Ghirahim with him, fighting as hard as he knew how to keep that sword, but—but it hadn't mattered in the end, because Zelda—

His mouth settled into a grim line as the memory returned, slotting back into place. Zelda.

"Link, I need you to listen very closely to me," Zelda said, speaking carefully now, as if he was some sort of cornered animal that might choose to turn back around and attack. "This is important. You need to decide—"

"Why should I have to listen?" Link snapped, both knife and carving falling from his hands as he rounded on her. "I told you—over and over I told you what I wanted—and you never listened!"

"I'm sorry," Zelda breathed, but Link shook his head. Maybe she'd had him cornered once, but here, things were different. Here, what he wanted was the only thing that mattered.

"I don't want to listen to you anymore," he said firmly, and Zelda's eyes widened.

"Link, w—"

Flash.