A Monster's Skin

) : =I= : (

"Don't mind me," I mumbled under my breath, slowly creeping closer. My heart stammered in my chest. This would be the defining moment. Maybe it'll all be worth it. Maybe it was a good decision after all. Maybe this'll actually work the way I thought it would.

I hadn't fooled the guardian one bit, but that made sense to me. It wasn't exactly a naturally-occuring monster like keese and bokoblins; it was an ancient machine corrupted by the purest form of evil in the world. So when it attacked me like all other guardians did, I was a bit disappointed, sure, but I had kind of expected it.

Now, as I carefully walked nearer to the several fire chuchus hopping up and down on the Death Mountain climbing path like some sort of deranged bouncy balls, I felt sweat breaking out on my brow that had nothing to do with the rising temperature and everything to do with whether or not Kilton's crazy experiment would actually work.

I hoped it would, because if it didn't I was potentially stuck this way for maybe the rest of my life. And judging by how the people at Foothill Stable had driven me out with torches burning and pitchforks swinging, I wouldn't exactly be accepted into everyday society like this. At least if it worked, I thought dryly, the monsters might take me in.

The nearest chuchu slowly rolled to face me. I gulped and went still, my heart leaping up into my throat. My instincts urged me to run as it began oozing towards me, but that would look suspicious, right? And monsters didn't like suspicious things - in my experience, they tended to attack them.

I have nothing to worry about, I told myself for the umpteenth time. Monsters don't attack other monsters unless it's by accident or a bokoblin happens to be the closest 'weapon' on hand.

I'd seen it loads of times since waking up in the Shrine of Resurrection. Bokoblins shared their stories with moblins, moblins tried to teach lizalfos how to roar, lizalfos performed their bizarre handstand dances for the other monsters, and chuchus and keese just kind of… hung around. I'm not sure if they had the mental capacity for much else, honestly.

But the point was, monsters got along together. And since Kilton's mask had apparently turned me into a monster, they would get along with me, too. Or at the very least they wouldn't attack me.

The people at Foothill Stable had given me even more of a reason to believe the mask worked. They'd certainly treated me like they would any monster, and didn't seem to understand when I tried to explain I didn't mean any harm. Their reaction stung, but… it meant that the mask worked, and I really had become a monster, right?

The fire chuchu began bouncing up and down in front of me, and a few of the smaller ones started rolling over to investigate. I chuckled nervously, taking a small step back. "Yeah, that's it - I'm a monster, just like -"

The chuchu lunged, flames spurting from its gelatinous flesh, and I just about leapt out of my skin with a startled yelp, barely managing to throw myself to the side as a wave of fire whooshed over the stone.

"Oh, come on!" I grouched, resisting the urge to stamp my foot in a most bokoblin-esque manner. "I'm one of you guys!"

But the chuchu, flanked now by its companions, oozed towards me once again. Heaving a frustrated sigh, I slipped my simple broadsword from its sheath and darted towards the blobby monsters, jabbing my blade into one of the smaller ones and bursting the thin, fragile skin that held it together. It exploded apart, sending flaming goop in every direction, and I quickly backpedalled and stepped to the side to avoid the big chuchu's next attack.

They were only chuchus. Not much of a threat. The battle was over within a minute, and I turned back up the trail, singed but mostly unharmed.

"Well, Kilton," I muttered under my breath. "Your monster mask is useless against chuchus."

I heard a familiar angry squeaking from above me; three fire keese were flapping down to meet me, and a fourth was glaring at me from its cozy position sitting on a torch, although it looked - at the moment - like it was content to stay there.

"Make that chuchus and keese," I sighed, shaking my head.

I can kill monsters. I can make those split-second decisions in the heat of battle that could cost a life or spare one. And if it's something truly evil, like a Yiga assassin or a corrupted piece of machinery or reanimated corpses, I don't bat an eye.

But when it's a camp of bokoblins that I wasn't sneaky enough to get past without them noticing, I feel pretty bad. They were minding their own business, having a dance party to celebrate the seared steak they managed to cook for themselves, and all of the sudden they heard something and decided to go investigate and it turns out to be a Hylian.

I'm not a very threatening-looking person, as I'm told, and neither are most people I've encountered (in a good way, of course), so I have no idea why bokoblins and other monsters feel the need to attack any human they see. Kilton was mentioning a bokoblin mask he was working on; maybe it'll let the wearer communicate with bokoblins well enough to come up with some sort of treaty.

But in the meantime, I don't enjoy killing innocent monsters at all. I'm quite content to just let them go on living their happy monster lives, unless I find them attacking or chasing other people. Kilton's mask that was supposed to turn me into a monster seemed like a really great way to never have to kill off monster camps again.

I glanced down at my hands after vanquishing the fire keese, grimacing. There was a small burn across a few fingers, but that wasn't the worst of it.

The worst was that the color of my skin was… well, it didn't even have a color anymore. It looked like someone had taken shadows and plastered them all over my body. And replaced my eyes with glowing red coals and bleached my hair.

I didn't blame the people at Foothill Stable for panicking. I'd also panicked when I finally put on the mask…

) : =I= : (

"Hmmm… is that… lizalfos? Or perhaps…" Kilton spun around and jumped, screeching in surprise. He blinked several times. "Oh… it's only you. Well, what can I do for you this monstrous night?"

"I have a couple more bokoblin horns for you," Link sighed, placing a bloodied burlap sack on Kilton's tabletop. Might as well not go to waste…

"Ah, yes!" Kilton crowed, hopping up and down with delight. "The world of monster research greatly benefits from your generous donations!" He swept the bag off the table and turned around, storing it up and out of sight on a high shelf. "Have I told you about my latest creation?"

"The bokoblin mask?" Link asked with a slight grin, remembering the ridiculous - but also somehow adorable - design sketches. "I think so, yeah."

"No, no, no!" Kilton cried, whirling to face him again. "I was getting a bit stuck on that mask - but it's all worked out now, of course - and to get over my creator's block I decided to go back to the basics: what makes a monster? Is it the smell? The horns? The teeth? The shape? And I found out that anyone could disguise themselves as a monster if they had the right gear!"

Link frowned, intrigued. "Disguised… as a monster?"

Kilton nodded eagerly. "Yes, yes! And so I created something absolutely horrendous!" Beaming, he pulled from one of his shelves a mask of a Hylian face, attached to a shock of white hair, with empty eyes and holes for the nose and mouth like any other mask. It looked like it hadn't been painted yet; it was a dark, bland shade of gray.

Link squinted at it. "Er… what, exactly, is this?"

"I call it the Dark Mask," Kilton beamed, patting it fondly. "It will, a hundred percent guaranteed, turn you into a monster! It helps if you wear ragged dark clothes, too, or even just a bokoblin loincloth, but still - it works!"

Turns me into a monster, eh? Link moistened his lips thoughtfully. Monsters didn't attack other monsters. If this really does work, I won't have to feel like a jerk breaking up any more bokoblin dance parties.

And without having to worry about fighting monsters, he would be able to get to the remaining Divine Beasts even sooner, and free the Princess trapped in the castle. She had already waited a century - Link hated every delay that kept her waiting even longer.

More often than not, those delays came in the form of bokoblins. And recovering from the resulting battle wounds.

"Is it… for sale?" he asked hesitantly.

Kilton's eyes bugged with excitement. "You want to try it out!" he howled in delight, banging a fist on the tabletop. "Take it! Take it for free! And tell me how it works!"

Link nodded, grinning, taking the mask into his hands. "Thanks! You're… sure it works?"

"Absolutely! It turns you into a monster!" He clasped his hands together, gazing longingly off into the middle distance. "Ah, what I wouldn't give to become one with the monsters, too… but it's hard to make a mask that would actually fit my face!"

Link turned the mask over, expecting to see a band of elastic running from one side to the other to keep it in place, but there was nothing. And the texture - the mask's surface felt disturbingly like real, living skin. "So… how exactly am I supposed -"

He stopped, taking a slight step back. Kilton had vanished, along with his cart; the lonely little slab of dirt forming the left eye of Skull Lake was just as desolate as it usually was.

Link glanced up to the sky; sure enough, the pale light of dawn was creeping across the sky. He shook his head in bewilderment. Of all suspicious, quirky characters out there, Kilton's got to be the quirkiest and most suspicious of them all, he thought. He found it best not to question how the monstrologist managed to disappear at the first hint of morning lighting the sky.

He turned the mask back over in his hands, feeling a chill creeping down his spine at the sight of the empty eyes. He held it over his face and gasped as it burned hot against his skin; reflexively he tried to pull it away, but it was stuck fast. Searing pain erupted across his head and he bit back a scream, tearing blindly at the mask and barely realizing that it felt like he was tearing at his own skin.

The pain swiftly spread downwards, gripping his arms and chest; it was especially fierce against the more sensitive skin over his stomach and he doubled over, unable to hold back a groan. When it reached his waist and thighs his knees buckled and he tumbled sideways, scratching viciously across his arms as if somehow that would help. It felt as if every inch of his skin was on fire.

Dimly remembering that there was water nearby, he weakly dragged his way across the tiny island, closer to the edge. His limbs protested; pain gripped them in a tight vise, so tight that he could barely move them at all.

So tight that when he finally reached the water, he realized belatedly that he wouldn't be able to swim.

The fires cooled on his skin but he sank like a rock, struggling to get his seared limbs to move. Water sloshed in his lungs, water that he'd accidentally inhaled the moment he fell in; his chest heaved but he clamped his teeth together, resisting the urge to try and cough.

The pain died, but his arms and legs still felt stiff and sore. It was like trying to operate a thoroughly rusted crank or lever - indeed, it felt like his joints had rusted over somehow.

Light faded above him as he sank deeper, and his lungs screamed for air; he convulsed again, fighting with himself not to breathe. His mind ached. First the intense pain, now this lack of oxygen… it made him feel muddled and dizzy.

He wrenched his arms back and forth and sluggishly kicked his legs, trying to loosen the joints before he lost consciousness. Blackness was stealing across his vision and he resisted the urge to shake his head to clear it. Fighting with everything he had, he forced himself to move faster, faster, until at last he was clawing himself upwards, back to the little island.

His chest heaved again and this time he felt a bout of nausea grip his gut; he doubled over, clutching at his chest, yearning to break free of the terrible emptiness in his lungs and throat but feeling the cold water surrounding him and knowing it was impossible. Teeth clenched, he struck out upwards once again, keeping his gaze fixed on the blurred, distorted shapes of the canyon walls on the other side of the water; his heart banged frantically against his ribs.

At last he felt air on his face, freezing his skin, and he sucked down a desperate gulp of air before striking out eagerly for the flat slab of land so close by. Coughing, he flopped over the edge and pushed himself to his knees, vomiting lungfuls of water onto the soul. Shivering, feeling miserable, he eased himself onto his side and rolled over on his back, lying limp for a moment as his racing heart finally began to slow and his ragged breaths returned to normal.

Well, Kilton, your mask would make a great torture device, he thought glumly, letting his eyes flutter closed. But that wasn't exactly what you intended.

He wondered, briefly, if Kilton was a member of the Yiga Clan and this had been an assassination attempt, but he quickly dismissed the idea. Kilton was completely harmless - even Hoz at East Akkala Stable agreed, when he saw the picture Link brought back to him. Weird, perhaps a little touched in the head, and a bit spooky, but definitely harmless. And he hated bananas, which ruled him out entirely as a Yiga assassin.

Link finally sat up, rubbing the back of his neck. "Guess that's what I get for using the first draft of something," he mumbled, pushing himself to his knees.

He gave a start, staring at his hand. With a startled cry he shook it rapidly, rubbed at it, dipped it into the water and scrubbed at it violently with his other hand -

Which was also covered in this awful gray color.

And in bending over the surface of the water, he caught a glimpse of something staring back at him - something monstrous. A chill snaked down his spine and he recoiled, his pulse gathering speed. Merciful Goddesses above…

Naively he tried to tell himself that perhaps there was just a monster in the lake. A monster that for some reason hadn't attacked him when he fell in. A monster that looked almost just like him.

His mouth dry, he leaned back over the edge and gasped again. The monster in the water gasped too. His heart raced and he slowly moved his hands up to feel his face. It felt completely normal. But the reflection staring back at him told another story, and he couldn't bite back a soft whimper of horror.

His hair was white. His eyes were red and glowing like flames. His skin was a dark gray, almost black. Even his teeth had changed; running his tongue over them he found that his canines were longer, sharper.

His breaths came faster and faster. He was already soaked to the skin from his little swim in the lake, and now the perspiration breaking from his skin threatened to keep him that way. There just wasn't enough air!

Breathing heavily, he lurched to his feet and tugged at his tunic, yanking it up and over his head along with his undershirt. With his heart in his throat he glanced down at himself, and another weak cry escaped his lips.

It wasn't just his arms and his face. His torso was every bit as unnaturally colored. The familiar old scars stood out in unfamiliar shades on an unfamiliar body. A slight breeze drifted through the canyon and he shivered, curling his arms tightly around himself, squeezing his lungs even as they struggled to take in enough air. His mind spun dizzily and he slumped back down to his knees, bowing his head and gripping it tightly in shadowy hands, curling his fingers around thick clumps of hair.

He couldn't think straight. He couldn't think at all - it was too much. Monster… monster in the lake… me… Kilton… mask…

A jolt of panic seized his heart and he whimpered again, his hands flying to the edges of his face, his chin, his brow, his ears, feeling desperately for some sort of seam. Something that could pull off whatever wretched mask he was wearing.

But there was nothing but smooth skin. The mask had melted right into him.

"No…" he whispered, shaking, clawing at his face. "No! No! Get - get it off!" He scratched, tugged, yanked twisted at his skin, but it did nothing. At last, his face sore, he let his shaking hands fall into his lap.

Well, Kilton, it worked - you turned me into a monster.

He felt a wave of revulsion sweep nauseatingly through him and he doubled over, clutching his stomach, teeth bared in a grimace. What have I done? What have I done? I could be stuck like this for -

He quickly cut off the thought, focusing on the sound of his rasping breaths. Swallowing with difficulty, he squeezed himself harder and slammed his eyes shut, trying to calm himself. But that's what I wanted, isn't it? To become a monster so that monsters wouldn't attack me? So that I wouldn't have to slaughter them unnecessarily? This is a good thing, right?

He peeked down once again at his terrifying reflection and shuddered.

No. This is not a good thing. Anything but that.

) : =I= : (

I'm back! Sorry I haven't posted anything for so long; hopefully what I've got planned will make up for that! This story here is a short one, three parts long, and it'll all come out over the course of the next week - one more on Wednesday, and the last next Sunday.

After that, I'll start posting chapters once a week for the massive Legend of Zelda fan fiction project I've been working on all summer. So far there's a little over 26 chapters and it's not quite finished yet, but regardless, you'll always get a chapter every week. I hope you enjoy! Thanks for reading!