It's always her name on his lips.

The first time he heard her, he was but a child. In a land ravaged by war and sundered by civil conflict, he had been left utterly alone. Surrounded by people running and fighting, he stayed still; tuned out by screams and the rain, the sploshing of steps against mud, blood and feces, threats he could recognize by tone more than words, his voice got stuck on his throat in a silent plea no one noticed. The lone child who was paralized by fear tried to make himself as small as he could. He was to die, though he wouldn't realize the certainty of that fact till a long time after.

The first time he heard her, he had been too much of a child to question the factuality of a voice inside of his head, he had also been too terrified to go against the voice who was getting him to safety. In years to come he would face people who could 'hear' the voice but were thought to be overcome with madness or not in touch with this world to be taken seriously. He had been too innocent and guileless at the time, it proved a blessing.

The first time he heard her, she stayed with him for years before leaving. She guided him to a small village and put him in the care of someone of her own, an old man named Orca who couldn't really hear her voice but who had received a bunch of her chosen over the years and trained them with the same certainty of a follower. Orca had the gentleness of a grandfather and the sternness of a martial artist. With Grandpa Orca, and always with her in that house, the boy learnt to trust again, to laugh again and to enjoy things again. The only thing that Grandpa Orca would ask in return was to hear about the woman, Grandpa Orca would ask things to the air and the boy would hear the answers as if someone whispered to his ear. The questions were lost to his young mind, - he could remember the exact color pattern of the flowers in Grandpa's garden, though - but if you were to press him for memories he would recall Grandpa Orca nodding in silence with closed eyes, a faint smile on his face.

Grandpa Orca, as many others - though the boy still didn't know - , knew of her, prayed to her, lived by her rules and asked in return for her blessings. They all knew her name - though the boy still didn't know - but opted to call her 'The Lady' out of respect. Her name was a blessing and a secret given to them by a chosen. Grandpa Orca had decided long ago to serve her though he couldn't hear her, and he had been blessed with the task of nurturing and raising the chosens. He did so with enthusiasm and pride, as he had become known for his work.

The boy had forgotten how life was before her when she told him she was to leave.

He was happy and taken care of and he had a future now, and she could no longer favor him so. She started to give him advice and follow-up instructions, worried to leave the child's side, sad to leave the child's side, not wanting to leave the child's side. So when he asked, "Are you leaving me?" She couldn't bring herself to disappear silently and quietly, "Yes."

The boy couldn't help but feel scared, almost the same way he had been when she had found him. But Grandpa Orca had been telling him of her bond with him, Grandpa Orca had been telling him of the chosens and of their soul-binding life with her, and as the boy recalled Grandpa Orca's deep and elderly voice retelling of old chosens who had changed the lifes of millions, of how they were never alone for The Lady was always with them, the boy could feel the fear dissipating, filled with the certainty of his role, of his life, of her life, of his life that was hers. But he realized he still couldn't bring himself to talk, he was no longer paralized by fear - he would no longer be paralized by fear, for he now had a mission - but he was paralized by a soul-wrenching gratitude that put a lump on his throat and filled his eyes with tears, because he had done nothing to repay her, he was still unable to repay what she had done, and this ache was mixed also with a desperate longing that wanted to grasp at her and never let go. Fed by greed and the undivided love she had given him he wanted nothing more than to weep at her skirts and beg and plead, "My name is Link." Please, don't forget me.

There was a pause which he mistook as absence, feeling a breathless pain in his gut and an emptiness he would no longer fill, but as soon as he started to walk to the village, - right by his ear, like a secret, with the love he had come to expect - "My name is Hylia."

And she left.

Her name was a gift and a secret. A treasure he would unveil in the safety of his room, when he needed strenght or reassurance, love or protection. A charm he wore with pride and joy. An amulet he polished under the watchful eyes of Grandpa Orca.

"Things aren't the same as before," Grandpa Orca shared one night. Link was washing the dishes by the well and only hummed in agreement.

Two years after and Grandpa Orca was dead in the middle of his own house. Stabbed to death by 'heretics', by 'enlightened', by 'followers of the true gods', by whatever name they were called. They had come in a group, ten of them against a 10 year old child and a man old enough not to remember his own age. Grandpa Orca had seen this coming, had sensed it, had prepared Link for this.

"Things aren't the same as before," Link whispered against a tree, he could feel some understanding behind those words, but it was still out of his grasp. Grandpa Orca had prepared him for this, had told him to go and never come back if this happened. But Link meandered like a wolf in the forest and came back to bury Grandpa Orca under the beautiful patch of flowers that graced their garden.

He left the other bodies to rot - the first and last time he would do that to his enemies. He chose a direction and started to walk that way.

Link hadn't heard her voice in years now. He had even started to doubt he had ever heard her. Grandpa Orca had sat him on his lap, "What is wrong, child?" and Link had trouble expressing his pain.

Abandoned, Link chose in the end. Link felt abandoned. Grandpa Orca had squeezed Link's shoulder, his eyes were filled with understanding and his voice was soft, and Link could feel tears gathering in his eyes, because-

"Abandoned, you say? And yet she has brought you to the most remote, safe, and peaceful village the land has to offer. You feel abandoned, my child, and yet she has put you in my care. The strongest, most experienced and responsible mentor you could ever find." Grandpa Orca fell silent a second and then his eyes were two slits and his hand was slapping Link's back, "If a man can talk like that about himself." Grandpa Orca had filled the room with laughter and Link had felt the doubt lift a little, but the nagging feeling of not being enough was still present.

And Grandpa Orca could feel Link's thoughts, "Do not doubt her, Link, for she is wise. Prepare yourself in the meantime, be the best you can, when you are ready..."

It was a promise, "She'll come for me."

"That is right."

And Link had learnt to be patient.

Link walked for days upon days, alone, tired, desperate at points to receive help. He walked and no help came, no miraculous intervention happened and the desperation had to learn to be quiet. When Link was in doubt he remembered Grandpa Orca's advice, when Link was in need of strenght he whispered her name under his breath, when Link was in trouble he relied on himself. Till he found a village.

He arrived to the village having defeated every doubt, every weakness of mind and with the sure knowledge that she was to come back if only he tried harder. And with such purpose in mind he started his new life.

Odd jobs, practice, odd jobs, practice, odd jobs, practice, odd jobs...

In this village there were more like him. Children who had heard her voice years back and who had heard nothing since.

Link was afraid that would be it. He had no right to ask more of her, seeing as she had saved his life. So he found it rude to try to talk with her directly, as he had seen others do - kneeled on the ground, with both hands in the air, begging. She is wise, Link reminded himself, she'll come when I'm ready.

There were many names for people like Link, for people who were chosen by The Lady. Chosen one, blessed one, cherished one, protector. Link had heard from Grandpa Orca that once upon a time people would wear those names with their heads held high. But not now. Not when the chosen ones were persecuted, not when they were being killed on sight. Not when a child talking to the air made their mothers scream in pain.

Nobody knew Link could hear her. Even with Grandpa Orca's words in his head, even with her name in his mouth, Link started to think that maybe he was not one of them.

Until she came to him again.

It was night and Link was in bed, counting down with his fingers the things he ought to do tomorrow, when he heard her.

Link froze and sat on his bed, his heart pounded with such strenght Link feared the voice would be drowned by it. But there she was again, the exact same voice, talking with poise and a calmness that made him sigh in relief. She was more cold than last time, more detached, she made no attempt to talk 'to him', it felt more like orders than anything he had ever heard from her.

And he dared not disobey them.

In the middle of the night, three years after arriving to that place, Link left with nothing more than a bag filled with necessities. He had made friends, he had made acquaintances, but he left with nothing more than a nod to the woman who had taken him under her wing - Grandma Aryll, whose family had long left her and who had made it her job to care for orphaned children.

"Where are you going, child? It's too late for you to go outside."

Link stilled by the door. Grandma Aryll had been nothing but kind, had been nothing but loving. Had Link not heard the voice of The Lady he would have stayed by Grandma Aryll's side till she passed away. Would have stopped doing odd jobs and would have settled with Grandma Aryll to help as much as he could. And after settling he would have surely found a wife and have kids. Surely, if he had not heard the voice...

But if down the road... what if he would have heard The Lady years from now? Would he have been able to not heed her words? To tune her out?

Grandma Aryll took care of more children. Surely one of them would take care of her as Link would have liked. Surely one of them would settle down in this house, find a spouse and fill Grandma Aryll's life with more laugter than she could bear. Surely.

Because Link could not abandon The Lady just yet. Just... never.

Grandma Aryll felt a cold hand gripping at her heart, a clench so cruel she had to fight a wail of terror. Oh, he was a child. He was a child. "You can hear her," Grandma Aryll's eyes were filled with pain.

Link nodded and left.

And Grandma Aryll felt, for the first time in her life, that The Lady was unjust.

Link walked for a long time. He expected for more chosens to appear at every turn, at every new village. The more he walked towards the target, the more he expected to see them gathering around. But there were none. Nowhere.

When people saw him, young, with sword and shield at his back and a simple bag for baggage, they turned to each other. Whispered with hot breaths Link couldn't bear.

Link learnt to avoid such places unless necessary.

Since leaving Grandpa Orca's, Link had practiced his teachings in every spare moment he found. When those were mastered, Link started to look for anyone who could teach him new things. Link had become a fearsome warrior and an excellent cook, the latter under Grandma Aryll's guidance.

Link stopped on a hill, and the pungent smell of fire filled his nostrils. He had arrived. He, alone.

And he, alone, wiped out a large group of bokoblins who marched upon the fields destroying and pillaging everything that got in their way.

When the last of the bokoblins fell, when Link's arms where trembling out of exhaustion, when he could feel blood and guts dripping from him, he fell to his knees. He had been trained for this, he had been trained to kill and live and do it in her name.

But...

But...

Grandpa Orca had never told him how sad it was to be the only one standing among a field of death.

Link spent the next three days burying every body on the field. No one else came. No voice was heard. And when Link buried the last of the bokoblins, he asked for forgiveness.

Link was the only chosen to heed her command. When he arrived to the village which was to be the next target, people asked for his name, took him in, touched him with reverence.

When people started to whisper his name under their breaths, with the same love he whispered The Lady's name, he realized. This had been a test.

The village pampered Link and let him go with gratitude and tearful hugs. When Link arrived to the next village his name was known and his deeds talked about. He was now The Chosen Link. Protector Link. And though his heart filled with pride-

She wouldn't talk to him.

"I finally found you." Link looked up from his book. "My name is Âme, nice to meet you." Link kept his hands on his book, he eyed the arm Âme was stretching but remained still.

Âme lifted a corner of his mouth, "Hylia has sent me."

Link's eyes widened. Her name. It had been so long since he had heard her name.

Âme let his hand fall, looked around them, "I'm protector Âme, she asked me to guide you." Link had chosen a rather secluded tree to sit under. Âme tilted his head one way, "She's saying..." Âme closed one eye, stretched his neck as if to hear better, he then let his shoulders sag, "I'm just hearing a name over and over-"

Link had to bite the unbecomming rage that was starting to eat at him. Why isn't she talking to me? Why?

"-and over."

If this is some kind of joke-

"Orca. Grandpa Orca."

Link had to fight the lump forming in his throat, had to fight the urge to grab Âme by the collar and scream for him to shut up.

Âme had his name tattoed on his face. One big  was right under his right eye, followed by the other words of his name down his face. Âme smiled and the e got lost in between his cheek, "She is saying we have to stay together until she says so."

Link was sure Hylia used nicer words. Link was sure Âme couldn't even hear her properly. Link was sure Âme was actually able to hear her. So Link stood up, grabbed his bag, cleaned his pants and stretched his arm, "My name is Link. Nice to meet you."

Âme snorted and ruffled Link's hair, "Sure it's a pleasure, you lying brat, you barely gave me a glance."

Protector Âme turned out to be a drunkard, a fight-loving drunkard. When he realized that Link was a fairly decent fighter - to his standards - , Âme started to ask for 1 on 1 spars.

Link lost all of them.

"You're too stiff!"
"You're too guarded!"
"You're too defenseless!"
"Put a little more strenght to it!"
"Is that a stance?"
"Who are you waving to?!"

All with a natural, good-natured, stern voice Link was weak against. And every spar was finished with a lecture about weaknesses and strenghts Âme gave with a serious face. Those were the only times Link enjoyed with the man. Though Âme was sarcastic and enjoyed witty banter, he usually drank till drunk and sat alone far enough to be seen but enough to also know he didn't want company. Link gave him his space and spent his own time sharpening the skills Âme thought lacking.

Âme when drunk was silent. Âme when sober was talkative. It was almost a rule with how many times Link have seen it, so when Âme started to drink and walk to a far but fairly nearby tree, Link sat down and took out a book about geography. Link hadn't even heard Âme walking back.

"You know, you're not the only one, you know?"

Âme was not drunk enough, as his eyes still held the shine of conciousness, but he was also not in control of his body, as his legs still moved trying to find the correct position to stand and fight gravity. Which is why Link gave Âme a light glance to acknowledge his presence but kept on reading his book.

Âme wasn't expecting an answer, not really, but he was expecting something more than a look. A hum, maybe? No. Not that either.

"You are..." Âme mumbled, his tongue felt heavy, his mind felt like it wanted to sleep, "the fourth one to be asked to accompany me." Âme looked at Link like that was enough - wide eyes, raised eyebrows. Link felt Âme's eyes on the top of his head and raised his head to look at the man. "None stayed more than a month," Âme had trouble with the ending of 'month' and his tongue stuck out of his mouth in a weird angle.

Link could feel the disbelief in Âme's tone, but he was still too surprised to say anything that could help the man.

Âme felt his frustration rise, and Link's blue eyes only helped further his feelings, "So I have to ask why is that." Then he added as an afterthought, "It's not like I'm the nicest out here."

Link frowned, was he supposed to make a nice lie that helped Âme feel like a decente hylian? Or was he asking for honesty? Âme was indeed, not the nicest of persons, but he was witty enough to be funny and seasoned enough to be a mentor, so Link could tell Âme - without it being a lie - that he stayed because he was learning. Or Link could tell him the truth.

"I'm staying because The Lady asked me to."

Âme closed his eyes in frustration, "And yet she hasn't talked to you," Link winced, it was no secret she didn't, "but me? The one that barely hears her? She talks non-stop! Even now!" Âme pointed to his ear, "I'm hearing some fucking noise in my head I can't make out, are you telling me to calm down, Hylia?!" Âme screamed to the skies.

Link left his book and stood, "Âme, it's all right, I'm here."

Âme shook his head, there were tears falling down his face, "It was my fault, you know, mine." Âme raised his head, pointed to himself, "I doubted her, you know?" Âme looked to the fire crackling in the middle of their camp, "Have you heard people saying The Lady is leaving them? How less and less people are able to hear her?" Âme looked at Link, "You are one of the last of our kind, and it's not her fucking fault. It's ours. Because we doubt, because we lie. She's leaving us, she's leaving us," Âme mocked the people wailing, "but it's not like that, it's not she who's leaving. It's us. The only reason people can't hear her it's because they don't want to. They cover their ears. They scream it hurts to be left alone, but nobody thinks about her, you know? How must she feel? Being left behind." Âme swayed and Link gave a step to catch him, "Being left behind by her own chosens, "Âme slapped away Link's hand and fell to the ground, "Don't you dare do that to her, you hear me? Don't you dare doubt her, for she is wise. Don't you dare leave her, for she is lonely."

Âme pressed his head to the ground while chanting for Link not to leave The Lady.

That night Link had to hold Âme's hand till he fell asleep. While Link talked about their plans for the future, Âme smiled, "Thank you, Link. For being here. I think I finally figured why she wanted me to be with someone. I had thought it was because she didn't trust me to do my work, but it was only because I was lonely," Âme chuckled, "She tried to take care of this failure I am till the very end, huh?" Link felt Âme squeezing his hand, "I'm really thankful, you know, to you, to her..." Âme smiled, the way Link liked, so hard Âme's name got lost on his face, so hard Âme wrinkled his nose, "But this is no life for you."

Link fell asleep holding Âme's hand, with promises to go to the next village and stay low for a while - so Âme could relax a little - but when morning came, Link woke with a sore neck and an empty bed at his side. Link called Âme's name in the morning, the sun was starting to hit hard and Link had to squint his eyes. But Âme was nowhere to be found.

Hylia came back to him that morning, clear like dew, soft like silk, sad. "The cliff," she whispered.

Âme was at the bottom of a nearby cliff, it had the most beautiful view and Link spent the whole day climbing down to retrieve Âme's body and climbing the cliff with Âme's corpse tied up to his back, his head bouncing near Link's face. Link buried the man, planted flowers near his grave and kept his journey.

He didn't talk to Hylia, nor asked her why she hadn't woke Link up. No, he needn't do that. He knew the answer.

This time, when Hylia talked to him, Link didn't even let her finish and he was packing his stuff. No monsters this time, no magic, only a greedy man who was abusing his power and who nobody dared defy. Link met with more Chosens - like he had wanted a long time ago - but now Link only nodded and felt weight on his shoulders.

They were going to raid the man's castle. They were going to kill the man inside the castle. They had a plan and every one of them had a role. They had a leader now. He was called Rhoam and had the presence of a king.

Even though Link had never seen any of the men and woman who were now beside him, they worked with such grace and gracefulness Link started to enjoy himself. A month after reuniting and after they had reviewed their plan time and time again, they set forth to the castle.

They were stealthy and quick, strong and skilled. They were deep into the castle when a horn cried into the night. Whispers became screams and the serene atmosphere they had been working in became chaos.

Link could feel Hylia shouting in pain inside his head, but there was nothing she could do and soon everything was darkness.

Link stopped counting days after a while, the meals came whenever, their cell was the most secluded of all and no sound but their owns whines could be heard. The hopeful mutter had long died down for curses and tears.

Many have taken their own lifes or died from starvation. Link was beginning to think that death wouldn't be so bad of a deal. It was either that, or-

"Curse you, Hylia, curse you!"
"Some beloved children we are! Leaving us to die like rats!"
"Please help me, please help me, please help me, please-"

Link pressed his head to the wall. He was not going to doubt her, Link was not going to doubt The Lady. Link was not going to-

A hand touched Link's thigh and Link would have screamed and thrashed if he weren't so weak. Some Chosens had already fallen to cannibalism to survive. Maybe being killed wouldn't be so ba-

"Hey, you alive? Hey."

Link fought with his throat to make sounds, it was so dry. "Ye-a."

"What's your name? Who are you?"

How was he so energetic and strong? A cannibal, for sure. "Lin-k."

The man sighed audibly, "Thank Hylia, I finally found you. Take this, go on, eat."

Link felt a warm, sticky thing being pressed to his thigh, "What's-" Link hadn't spoken in so long. So long.

"A rat. Sorry. It's cooked though." The man moved his shoulders, embarrased, "Try not to think much about it."

And Link didn't. Hylia knew he was hungry. The man had even cleaned most of the rat's fur.

"I'm so glad I found you, she was so worried about you. You were left on the farthest side from me, I could have found you sooner, but you are literally opposite of where I was."

Link refrained from asking why Hylia wasn't talking to him if she was so worried.

"I'm Rhoam, I'm stayin with you now, all right? We'll get through this."

Link only hummed to let Rhoam know he was listening. But though Link would never let himself find fault on Hylia, he wasn't so sure they were to be free anytime soon.

For all that Link found it difficult to understand, Rhoam's never-ending babble was the only thing keeping him sane. Once Rhoam had made sure Link was fine and he would not try to kill himself, he left Link alone for a while to go and check on others. Link had started to help Rhoam catch rats, and whatever food the guards gave them, they would try to grab before anyone else and then dispense to the others.

Whenever someone tried to fight, either Link or Rhoam stopped them before things would worsen. They were weak and feeble but compared to the others they still held much of their strenght.

The curses never stopped, nor did the whimpers, but Link was in a better state of mind than when everything started and he had started to follow Rhoam's efforts of helping others not lose their minds. Link wasn't Rhoam-like at it, but Rhoam didn't let his efforts unanswered and always thanked Link for trying.

Once they felt tired enough, Link and Rhoam would huddle up and share stories. Link had an image in his mind of Rhoam's house and Rhoam's family. Rhoam's family was the most important and warm piece of information Link ever had, he would name each member before sleeping, he would whisper the name of each plant Rhoam's wife had planted on their garden when he woke up. Link had asked Rhoam if he found creepy that a stranger held in such consideration his family, but Rhoam had snorted, "It's nice to know someone will have them in their heart if I'm gone."

It had been the only time Rhoam had acknowledged his own, probable, death.

"We lost another one," Rhoam let himself fall next to Link, "How many of us there are left?"

"Eight."

Rhoam moved his hand down his face, hard. Eight? When they had been hundreds? "How long have we been here?"

"Four or two years. It's hard to keep count."

It was so hard to keep on trying to stay alive. Rhoam could feel the fatigue eating at his bones. What if they were here another four years? Two years? One? Even one seemed too much for him.

"You know," Link started, his voice was jaded, Rhoam feared what was to continue. Maybe Link would blame him for keeping him alive? What was Rhoam to do if Link of all people started to blame him? Rhoam wasn't going to be able to take it. Link was now... Link was now his pillar. "When we make it outside, I'd like to visit your family, you know."

Rhoam felt a lump in his throat.

"Feels like I already know them," Link smiled, he just had to close his eyes and he was able to see the house, the garden, the crops.

Rhoam half-coughed half-cried, "Of course. I'll be waiting for you, buddy."

Three years and four months later, after a series of tremors that threatened to cave in their prison, they were let out.

Only six made it out alive, and out of the six none resembled their former selves.

"Who's the leader?" A soldier asked.

Rhoam gave an unsteady step forward. Link was squinting and shielding his eyes, and even though he could barely see, he knew Rhoam looked like death itself. Link wasn't sure he could keep standing if it weren't for the wall at his back.

Hell had been unleashed, apparently, a monstruous evil being was roaming the kingdom and very few settlements remained. They had been called Chosens, right? They had been fighting for good, right? Well, now was their last fight.

Rhoam was quiet for a moment, "We are under no condition to fight. If you could give us at least a few months to prepare."

Link was slaw-jacked. They had only gotten them out of there to fight? No excuses, no apologies?

And the soldiers were having none of that. Link could see the fear in their bodies, could even smell it in their words. And they were clearly desperate if they were hoping to find salvation with six starving moribund people.

Rhoam was trying to find the words, there was no way he was going to be able to survive a fight. He was thinking it would be difficult to survive the trek back home, let alone a fight against evil. None of them would live to tell the tale.

Link conjured Rhoam's home and family in his mind. They were bound to be ecstatic to see their beloved husband and father come back. Link imagined their smiles, the fierce hugs, the tearful smiles. "What is it you need me to do?"

Rhoam was choking up, though Link feared it was because he wanted to say too much and his body just wasn't having it. Rhoam gave another unsteady step. "Link." Link smiled. "No."

Link hugged Rhoam, hard. "You saved my life, now I'm saving yours. Go be with your family."

Rhoam wanted to cry, to scream, but he was so tired.

Link kissed Rhoam on the cheek, "It's all right, I'm going to go rest before you. Aren't you jealous."

It turned out that a couple of red potions did wonders, and though there was no telling when the magic would fade, Link was doing a wonderful job at fighting the monster and his hordes.

Demise, was his name. Fitting, as he destroyed and killed everything that was in his way. He wanted to attain the Holy Triforce - an artifact of legend that granted whoever touched it a wish - and people were desperate to stop him. Link could understand why.

"Link," to hear her voice again was a blessing, to fight for her one las time a gift.

"Hylia."

Hylia appeared before him, all light and beauty, and Link wanted to weep in joy.

"Hero," Hylia whispered, and granted him a sword.

The Master Sword, the only thing capable of slaying Demise. And now Link had it, he could feel the weight of such a task. But knowing this was the last, knowing that after this came rest. Link went on to fight with a smile on his face.

Demise went down with a srhilling scream, agony and hate intertwined. Hylia sealed Demise and sent the Triforce skyward along with the Master Sword.

And now all was well. And now Link could sleep. And he had done his job.

Link could feel his breath getting slower, his hand was on a stomach wound that was bleeding him out. Link looked up to the sky, the floating islands were getting smaller and smaller and Link could still hear the shouts of joy some of the people on the islands were making. It was a good way to die.

Link felt warmth seeping through his body and when he opened his eyes, Hylia was there, with the most agonizing expression Link had ever seen.

"Hero," she called. Link smiled, to be given such a goodbye, what an honor.

Hylia was crying on Link's chest, "Gruelling task after gruelling task and never once did you curse me. Unreasonable affair after unreasonable affair and never once did you doubt me."

Link smiled, "You saved my life, it was yours since the beginning."

"Link." Hylia's voice broke.

And Link died with her name on his lips.

Link woke up after what felt an eternity later. His eyelids were heavy, his body numb, and his mind was so fuzzy it took him a moment to remember his own name.

It was gradual, the pain. It came back like ants marching through his body, it choked him up at first, it made him moan when it reached his legs, after a while it made him hiperventilate - there was no way this was real - and when it reached his torso and his head... Link would have thanked anybody who smashed his head into a wall.

Where was he?
Why was he-?
He had been granted death.
He had earned his death.

SO WHY?

Link felt red through his limbs, thunder in his head and white behind his eyes. He remembered nothing but the pain of his wounds, and the certainty that his life was to end there. But he was here. Link howled, his head pounded like it was about to burst, and Link screamed with renewed vigor.

Why wouldn't they let him go?

Link roared.