A/N: Merry Christmas, Lovelies. It's finally here. I hope it was worth the wait.

Welcome to the long-awaited Epilogue of Encounters. I hope it defies all of your expectations, and blows you away. Be prepared for one hell of a ride.

Before I say what I really want to say, I will give you my warnings for this piece. One: This is a very long chapter. It is 26 pages on Word, and you know that I write single-spaced, 12-point, Times New Roman font. So it's a read, for sure. Two: There are several adult themes here. I believe this work has a little bit of everything, given the extreme length. I don't want to spoil any of it for you, but I will state, since this is a yaoi after all, that the, er, naughty bits, are pretty raunchy this time around. Probably more so than anything I've ever written. A few bits may even be hard for some read, depending on life experiences and such. But I think that's all I you should be prepared for.

I hope you'll forgive me as I take on a more serious tone than my usual Author's Notes, but I feel that this entry requires some solemnity. This project of mine has been a little over two years in the making. I started it in December 2014, and unless my memory is mistaken, I had this epilogue in the works as early as January 2015. Two years ago, Lovelies... So much changes in two years. I wasn't making money, I lived in a different house, I wasn't engaged, I hadn't dropped out of college... But I digress.

I want to set aside a small paragraph thanking each and every one of you for joining me on this journey, my most successful and ambitious endeavor. As a writer at least. Some of you have tagged along for the entire ride, some of you are new, and some of you are somewhere in between. And all of you are equally valuable to me. Without you, I wouldn't have been able to grow and learn and develop the confidence necessary to continue on like I did. You are all, indeed, worthy of being called Lovely.

I truly apologize for making all of you wait. But I think this epilogue needed two years to be written. I certainly wanted to make sure it passed my extremely high standards of quality assurance, especially after hyping it up as much as I did. It'll certainly be strange not having it hanging over my head to be finished. But I couldn't be happier. I'm a much better writer now. Somehow... I hope that shows.

Anyway... even though I'm proving consistent by writing the longest Author's Notes, I should stop here. Please enjoy the Encounters Epilogue, my Lovelies. You've certainly earned it. *Chuu*

"Lieutenant Link," I heard from outside the tent. I was just finishing lacing up my boots and gestured that I was decent enough for them to enter. I stood at the sight of Captain Hoshino, bringing my right hand to my temple. My shoulder stung at the sudden tension and I winced.

"At ease, Lieutenant. Do not strain yourself just because you've recovered," he advised. I let down my hand and allowed myself to sit only when he took his place on the cot that had been my sickbed for the past fortnight. I may not have been one to agree with authority, but I knew when manners were necessary.

Easing the buckles apart on his gauntlets, Captain Hoshino took on a more casual tone, and addressed me without any rank. "Tell me, Link. How are you feeling?" I thought for a moment. That day in the sky flashed through my memory as if it were moments ago. Skyloft was an unusual place to say the least. It was unsettling to walk on ground so high in the air. It didn't feel solid, like I could fall through at any moment.

The opposing army had already made itself quite comfortable in the abandoned city. The entire northern half had even been reduced to ashes. I remember my stomach churning at the possibility that some of the citizens had not made it out of their homes in time. But I couldn't dwell on that. We had to make our advance on the enemy base – and quickly.

Feeling as if I was supposed to head there, I made my way to the impressive goddess statue. Once inside the large building, a woman was waiting for me. Or maybe she wasn't a woman… I knew for sure that she wasn't human at least. She called herself Fi, and she addressed me as Master. I reminded her of her old master. It sent strange waves of nostalgia coursing through my body. Remembering events that hadn't happened to me.

Accepting her help, I pushed onward to the scorched half of Skyloft. But the enemy general was just as eager to fight me as I was him. Familiar green eyes locked with mine, filled with a furious rage. His breath came out in crackling embers.

"Hero," Volga spat out. I merely shifted my weight onto my left foot, holding my shield in front of me. The man scoffed. "How about you fight a real warrior for a change?" he asked, spinning and flourishing his dragon bone pike. I swung my sword threateningly. I couldn't argue that he was a challenging adversary. I only hoped the feeling would be mutual. With a smirk, I nodded in response.

He thrust his spear toward me, but I was able to deflect it with my shield easily. The force of his blow, however, made my entire arm tingle. So he was stronger this time… no problem. I just had to stay alert. I flexed my fingers and took a deep breath.

I observed his every move with excruciating detail. He twirled his spear behind him, taking an offensive step back. He held the weapon with all his weight, ready to send it crashing down on top of me. I braced myself, and just before the tip of the spear could graze my hair I dodged out of the way. But as I rolled behind him, Volga kicked his leg out, colliding violently with my chest. All the air was expelled from my lungs as I flopped onto the sooty ground.

It burned to breathe. Volga turned on his heel to face me. I couldn't think about pain now. I dragged my left arm up, ready to run it through the dragon warrior's heart. But a piercing pain shot through my shoulder as he impaled his spear right through it, pinning me down. Every layer of fabric, armor, skin, and muscle was torn and ripped apart. I let out a horrible, bloodcurdling scream. Shouts of my name could be heard in the distance.

I clutched at the weapon stuck in my body, shield still attached to my arm. Volga grinned in sick satisfaction at the sight below him, revealing razor sharp canines. Gripping his spear with both gloved hands, he harshly jerked it sideways, twisting the sharp metal inside my shoulder. Grotesque squelching sounds came from the wound, dark, hot blood spewing from the area like a geyser. The scraping noise of metal meeting bone. My body felt cold, but my shoulder felt like it was submerged in lava.

The pain was beyond unbearable… I couldn't scream. I could only sputter and gasp for air, still clutching at the spear. Volga planted his foot on my chest, making it even harder to breathe. Just then, he ripped the weapon out of my shoulder with such force that it pulled me half upright.

Before I could fall unceremoniously back into the soot, Volga grabbed a fistful of the front of my tunic and pulled me up to his height. I dropped my sword, which fell with a muffled clang. My feet barely grazed the ash covered ground. Before I could even flinch, he smashed his fist into my jaw. The taste of copper filled my mouth, and crimson liquid sprayed out into the open air.

"Pathetic," he sneered. I scowled at that. He caught me off guard; I could swallow my pride and admit that. But I wouldn't go down without a fight. "You call yourself a hero?" he continued. I felt a growl vibrate in my throat. He needed to stop insulting me. I needed to do something… but with one arm – my good arm – useless, and my resolve quickly giving way to shock, I had to be creative.

"You're little more than a boy. The gods should be ashamed to have put their faith in something like you." I stared daggers into his eyes. That was too far. I spit in his face, staining it with red. With him distracted, I swung my right arm up, bashing the side of his head with my shield. He let go of my tunic in surprise. I landed at his feet in a heap.

With a furious shout, Volga kicked me once more, this time in the stomach. I fell to my side. In a flash Volga pinned me down by the shoulders. He dug his thumb into the spear wound, baring his teeth. A strangled cry bubbled past my lips. The pain was making me nauseous.

"You wretched brat!" he roared into my face. The heat of his breath made my head spin. I tried to kick my legs up, but it seemed that Volga was keeping me down with his knees. "Death will not come easily to you."

I began to panic as he slowly inhaled. I struggled under his weight, but every time I moved only slightly from side to side, my shoulder jolted the wrong way, flooding more pain through my body. Time was running out. He was going to burn me alive. Sparks were going off in the back of his throat. I had to make a choice. Which would I sacrifice for the other?

My arm? Or my life?

Without thinking, I jerked to the left, instinctively wanting to block with my shield. The shoulder throbbed in agony. But if I had wavered even a moment longer, I would have been done for. I sobbed through clenched teeth. But Volga hadn't missed me.

White hot flames blanketed my right shoulder and neck, easily eating through the fabric of my tunic. I could feel it licking at my ear, singeing my hair in the process. Heating up the now exposed chain mail, the fire burned deep into my skin, spreading down to my elbow and onto my chest. I screamed so loud my ears rang. And I didn't stop until my voice gave out. The pain was… indescribable. Being ripped apart by rabid dogs felt more pleasurable, I was sure.

The flames slowly subsided, but not without charring my shoulder to the bone. I began to shake, shiver, convulse, eyes wide and unblinking. My skin felt more like scales and I couldn't stop sweating. Volga had since stood from my near lifeless form.

"An insect like you is not worth my time," he hissed. He stomped on my chest, turned around, and walked away. I coughed up more blood, but gave little other evidence that I was even coherent. I lay there in that spot, completely unable to move, crimson dribbling down my chin. The edges of my vision were fading, growing fuzzy. I faintly heard the voices of my comrades. They sounded so much farther away than they were.

"Lieutenant! Lieutenant Link!" One of the voices cried out to my right. I tilted my head in the direction of the voice, slowly registering the shape of my battalion's captain. My eyes widened and my mouth slowly fell open in a silent cry for help. Captain Hoshino stumbled back at the gruesome sight of me, screaming my name incessantly.

"Link! Link, it's me, Hoshino! It's me, stay with me! Stay with me, Link! Link!" As the sound of his voice reached my ears I nodded slowly. I couldn't control the trembling. My left shoulder felt impossibly cold. No doubt I had lost a lot of blood. I didn't have much time left…

Captain Hoshino tore his eyes away from mine for a moment. "Captain! Captain Shiroji, I found him! I found Link!" Suddenly another face came into my field of vision. I vaguely regarded him, blankly staring into his calm but concerned eyes.

"He's hurt pretty badly, Captain. Are you sure he's worth it?" Captain Shiroji asked his comrade.

"With all due respect, Captain, Link is worth everything. He is our salvation," Captain Hoshino stated. "And if we don't hurry, Hyrule is sure to fall."

Captain Shiroji thought for only a moment before looking me straight in the eyes. "Lieutenant Link, can you hear me?" he asked. I nodded thickly. My fingertips were suddenly cold and tingling. "Don't worry, Lieutenant, you're safe now. Captain Hoshino and I are going to take you to base. Do you understand?" Despite the tremors that rocked my entire body, I nodded again. "Good. We're going to pick you up now, Lieutenant." He looked to Captain Hoshino. "Try to grab his shoulders, Captain. And be careful."

As gingerly as possible, Captain Hoshino lifted me up off the ground and into his arms while Captain Shiroji carried me by the feet. Even though I was hardly conscious I screamed out at the pain. Captain Hoshino muttered something about things being okay, but I found little solace in his words.

At this point I remembered very little. I slipped in and out of consciousness, and even days later, only morsels of memories remained… Peeling the chain mail off my scorched shoulder… Picking bits of fabric out of my spear wound… Stinging, searing potions… Screaming, sobbing, struggling… But the gods had been watching over me. Within a week, the skin and sinew had replenished itself. Within twelve days, I had nearly full use of my arms once more. And fourteen days later, the only thing that remained was a dull ache in my left shoulder and stiff, tight skin on my right.

"Link? Lieutenant," Captain Hoshino called. I snapped out of my horrid reveries, looking to my superior once more. "Are you feeling any better, Link?" he repeated. I absentmindedly massaged my left shoulder, quickly finding the scar under the layers. After a moment's hesitation, I shrugged, while a small smile graced my lips. Captain Hoshino smiled back at me and seemed to relax slightly.

"Good to hear. You know I was worried about you back there." I softened my gaze and gave a playful sigh. He didn't need to worry about me. But he became stern at that. "I mean it, Link. We could have lost you." I dropped my gaze downward and nodded sadly.

Captain Hoshino carefully placed a hand on my right shoulder. "Don't worry yourself about it, Link. No one is angry with you. We're all just so relieved that you're alive. Myself especially." I tilted my head up to my captain, looking at him through the hair that fell into my field of vision. "Let me tell you something, Link. Since you've joined my battalion, I've… grown to care for you deeply. And, yes, I know, as your captain, that's not necessarily… recommended, but Link, you're like a son to me. I've seen you grow, and I like to think I've helped you mature into the strong young man I see before me now. And I'm very proud of who you've become."

The back of my throat stung. I looked up to this man. I held an immense amount of respect for him. He was like the father I never knew. He'd saved my life back in Skyloft. And I was eternally in his debt. I could only hope he knew how much I truly appreciated him.

I got up off the cot to face him, standing tall and proud. I clicked my heels together, offering my captain the most honorable salute I could muster. My arm stung at the angle, but I ignored it for Captain Hoshino.

He stood after a moment, gently easing my arm back down. "Thank you," he said. "It's really an honor to know you, Link." After a moment of silence Captain Hoshino continued, clearing his throat. "Can I see how they're healing up?"

With a nod, I made to remove my belt. It was no trouble, even though I had just finished dressing. Carefully pulling the tunic, chain mail, and undershirt over my head, I just held it all on my arms, not completely undressing myself. He first inspected the remains of the burn trailing from my elbow to my neck. What was two weeks ago misshapen, angry blisters was now simply a shiny, pink mass on my skin. It would pinch and squeeze up uncomfortably as I moved. Far from permanent, but somewhat unpleasant to say the least.

"Looks good, Lieutenant," Captain Hoshino stated with a smile. "It's not even a burn anymore, really. It'll be fine in no time flat." I nodded in acknowledgement.

With that, he looked at the scar on the opposite shoulder. He reached up tentatively. "If I may," he muttered, to which I nodded again. He touched the upraised, distorted flesh, around it, checking its twin on my back.

"Does it hurt at all?" he asked. Every day. I nodded. He frowned. "Well, don't worry, Link. Keep applying that salve the healer prescribed you, and it should vanish within a week," he advised.

I worried my bottom lip at that. The thing was that I didn't want it to vanish. I wanted to keep this scar on my shoulder as part of my body forever. I had embraced it as a part of me, my skin. It was a sign of my strength, and a reminder to keep my arrogance in check. But mostly, I just liked it for some reason. The gods only know, really.

After taking in the entirety of my so-called battle wounds, Captain Hoshino allowed me to put my clothes back on. Once everything was in its place, he spoke once more.

"I came in to tell you one other thing. We've been here for a few days, trying to find the Gate of Souls. Well, we did it, Link. We're setting up a base in the southern corner of a place called the Sealed Grounds. It's not too far from our current camp, actually. The Gate is in the northwest. We have reason to believe there's some sort of sorcerer guarding it. We need to take the Sealed Grounds, find the sorcerer, and bring him and the Gate down. I've elected you to take on the sorcerer. I trust you're healed up and eager to get back on the battlefield?"

I nodded at the influx of information, as well as his assumption. Truth be told, I was getting more than antsy waiting for my wounds to heal. I was made by the gods to fight. It was just what I did best, and I enjoyed doing so.

"Good," he said. "Then you won't mind accompanying me to base to form our plan of attack?" I shook my head, pulling up my gauntlets. I turned to pick up my scarf, draped it over my neck, adjusting it only slightly. I strapped my sword and shield to my back and followed Captain Hoshino out of the tent and into the fresh forest air.

I found myself taking a deep breath of the woody musk. I loved being in this forest. Especially compared to unstable Skyloft. I loved how the trees surrounded me like a verdant shroud of security. I loved the way the sun shone through the leaves just right, the golden rays lighting every corner in a warm glow. I loved the din of birds and insects and wind. I felt like I was meant to live in a forest. It felt like home.

Captain Hoshino and I wove through the thick tree trunks, eventually finding a hidden alcove in which our army had taken cover. Upon our arrival, many of the soldiers welcomed me with warm regards. I had been absent for two weeks. Most of them were sure I would die that day in Skyloft.

Private Nojinji, who had been in basic training with me, shook my hand, congratulating me on my survival.

"I almost gave up on you, Link. Glad you're okay."

A Skyloftian soldier garbed in yellow – Sergeant Pipit, if I wasn't mistaken – clapped me on the back graciously.

"You truly are our world's salvation. Don't give up!"

A private of the Omega battalion by the name of Kenji, barely old enough for the army, came up to me, nearly trembling.

"L-Lieutenant Link… I-I've thanked the gods every day that you s-survived your injuries. Without you, w-we would all be lost. You've g-given me the courage to k-keep fighting. Th-thank you."

This young man warmed my heart the most. I couldn't help myself. Despite the lack of formality in the action, I bent down to the boy's height and wrapped my arms around him. I heard him gasp, but soon he hugged me right back.

Even Captain Shiroji, usually cold and calculated, approached me.

"It was a dark day for us all, Lieutenant Link. I didn't think you would pull through. But the gods chose you as their hero for a reason. You are a strong man, and I have no doubt in my heart of hearts that you will bring an end to the evil times that lay ahead. From all of us, you have our faith and confidence." He finished with a firm salute. I brought my hand up to my temple in return.

Once everyone had taken their turn and welcomed me back, all the soldiers gathered around the makeshift table in the center of the alcove. Captain Mojoto went over the plan.

"There are five locations, save ours, that need to be taken as ally keeps. Alpha battalion, you are going to the east. Beta, we are to be stationed in the southeast. Delta battalion goes to the north. Omega will head for the west. Sigma battalion will take the southwest. Our scout has marked the locations with a single arrow near the entrances. They will be hard to spot, for the sake of maintaining our cover, but you should all be able to distinguish ammunition from our side over theirs.

"Special instructions have been laid out for Mistress Fi and Lieutenant Link. Mistress Fi." The blue and violet woman, having been silent the entire time, turned to face Captain Mojoto, face blank. "You will make your way to the center of the area, also marked with an arrow. Wait there to give the signal: a skyward strike. This will be given once five arrows reach you, indicating that each keep has been taken." Fi nodded once in the affirmative.

"That's when Lieutenant Link will strike." He turned to me. I regarded the captain formally as he spoke. "You go with your battalion. But break off to locate the Gate of Souls after the signal is given. We believe it is in the northwest. If our information is correct, a sorcerer will be guarding the Gate. Execute him, if necessary, and destroy the Gate of Souls." I nodded, knowing I had the most important, but most difficult task among these one hundred and five men.

If only I had known…

"We leave once the scout returns to us." Captain Mojoto dismissed everyone and we separated into five groups of twenty-one. The Alpha battalion was in the back east corner of the alcove, Captain Ryoki huddled with his men, no doubt giving them a pep talk. Captain Mojoto spoke in hushed, stern tones to the Beta battalion, his soldiers standing resolute and silent. In the west Captain Shiroji had his Omega battalion form a line in six rows of three, the remaining two taking the front and back. Farthest away, each of Sigma battalion's weapons were inspected by Captain Tihino. Delta battalion stood nearest the table, Captain Hoshino discussing the most efficient means of traveling to the far destination in the north.

"Link."

I stood in the center of it all. Captain Hoshino's voice was distant in my ears. I watched each exchange between soldiers, each salute and nod of the head, each word that came from the men's lips.

"Lieutenant."

I didn't know every soldier's name. I knew all my superiors, as I had been expected to. But only a dozen or so men stuck out in my mind. The thought made me sad. If only there were time to shake one hundred hands, memorize one hundred names, learn one hundred stories. These men were more than faceless privates. They were heroes. And I wished I'd taken more time to know them.

"Lieutenant Link."

I snapped back to reality at the harsh tone. Captain Hoshino was before me, little expression on his face. I bowed to him in apology.

"Stay with us, Lieutenant. Without you, this will all be for naught," he said. "Be sure you understand your orders." I nodded; they were crystal clear. "Good. Now, Link, this won't be a stroll through the woods. You need to be careful. You may be Lieutenant in rank, but we all know what to do should your life be at risk. You are our top priority. Don't abuse that." I saluted.

These soldiers would kill themselves – one another – if it meant my survival. I hated the thought of that. I was too valuable for the army to keep track of me. I decided then that I was going to keep track of myself. Let them worry about the task at hand.

Each battalion waited silently for the scout. The nearly inaudible sound of rustling leaves reached my ears. I looked to the northwest, up in the trees. Sure enough, a figure was leaping through the foliage. Only I had detected him. The lilt of a bird's chirp rang out from above. Except the sound was not indigenous to this forest. A moment later a man dropped from the trees into our base, landing silently on his feet. Our scout. Gorin, I think was his name.

Without a word, each captain motioned for his soldiers to move out. I stood by Captain Hoshino's side. We left via the alcove's east entrance and I got my first look at the Sealed Grounds. It was a winding trail, eventually declining down to a halt in the center. That's where Fi would go. I looked over my shoulder; she was already making her way to the spot, observing the environment intently. Our base was near the top, as was the northern keep. Captain Hoshino pointed to where we would go. It was highlighted by a blue Hylian arrow stuck in the ground by its entrance. Farther past that was a large temple. Perhaps a sanctuary of sorts, or a shrine. The Gate of Souls was there.

Only a few outposts were stationed between keeps, but the enemy detected us quickly. Battle had officially begun. I drew my sword and ran into the throng. I didn't even hesitate. Captain Hoshino let me advance beyond him. He knew I wouldn't go too far ahead. He would always let me fight independently of his other subordinates.

It felt so good to be fighting again. My blade was like an extension of my arm. It obeyed my every command, from the slightest twitch to the widest sweep. The sharp, silver metal sliced through flesh as if it were simply air. The weight of the hilt in my palm felt natural, innate, like there was simply no other way it could be but clutched in my grip. Adrenaline and exhilaration tingled from my fingertips and through my body with every swing. The pain in my shoulders was minimal compared to the thrill of the fight.

I easily cut a path for the soldiers to progress, quickly making my way to the northern keep. Captain Hoshino led his men to the front of the enclosure moments later. He looked to me, a meaningful expression on his face. Don't get cocky, it told me. I nodded, fixing my stance to block with my shield. He flicked his head in the direction of the keep, and we invaded. I launched myself into the very center, focusing my attention on a commanding Stalmaster, while the rest of the soldiers dispatched the lesser enemy troops.

The opposing Stalmaster was proving to be quite the adversary, fiercely keeping its guard up. Its golden shield was locked in place, preventing any blows that came its way. The Stalmaster then raised its rusty hatchet high above its head. I predicted the timing of its downswing, dodging away effortlessly. It lost its balance, and tumbled forward with the weight of its own weapon. I took the opportunity to slash at its exposed ribcage mercilessly. With the shock of my attack, the Stalmaster was unable to retaliate, and I finally slew the vicious monster. The leader had been brought down and the keep was ours.

I continued fighting with my battalion, as there were still enemy soldiers occupying the space. Suddenly I heard a noise that pierced through my very bones. Laughter. Cold, venomous laughter. The sound resonated throughout the entire area, saturating every corner of the Sealed Grounds. I shivered, almost automatically. The few enemy soldiers left ceased their fighting immediately and stood silently around us all.

"Nngh…" came a groan to my left. My head snapped over to see Captain Hoshino clutching at his head, trembling slightly. I stepped over to him. Every soldier was standing in similar stances. I walked through them to address my captain. His head was twitching back and forth, fists clenching tighter and tighter.

I crouched down to meet Captain Hoshino's eyes. His expression was pained, terrified. "Lieu… tenant… I can't – Please… g-get away… Link…" He spoke in short puffs of forced breath. I took a single defensive step back, but otherwise remained by my captain's side. "I'm s… sorry, Link…" he whispered, before going completely limp in that position.

Every Hylian soldier had followed suit, it seemed. I stood among twenty-one men, all still. After several long moments of confusion, they stirred, twitching back to life. They all stood in unison, as if controlled by marionette strings. Each soldier stood to face me, eyes vacant and unblinking. As a single mass, they all charged toward me. I barely had enough time to raise my shield before twenty swords and spears came crashing down with an intense ferocity.

I was cornered. I couldn't even bring up my sword. Suddenly a metallic voice filled my head. "Master Link," it said. It was Fi. She was contacting me through a mental bond she and I shared. "It appears that the Hylian forces have turned traitorous, and I detect no means of reversing the curse. They are currently advancing to your location. I calculate your chances of survival at less than five percent if you do not take action against the traitors."

My heart stopped at the implications of her words. Every soldier had been cursed to become enemies of Hyrule. I had been spared somehow… Perhaps the Triforce of Courage had protected me from the evil magic. But I couldn't be thinking about that. There were one hundred and five men advancing toward me. And I had do something about them.

Thinking fast, I bashed my shield into the faces of the soldiers closest to me. I was able to dodge away from the men and escape the north keep from its eastern entrance. I ran for my life, frantically thinking of a better option. My task wasn't a solution… it was a massacre.

Soldiers followed close behind me. Soldiers were approaching from the south. I halted to a stop. My fingers clenched tighter around my sword. I gasped for air. My mind was blank. I looked around me at the men closing me in from all angles. I had no escape. I had no way out but through.

A private caught me off guard to my left, grazing the crook of my elbow. The blade had barely left the surface of my skin before I automatically spun around and struck back, slicing horizontally through the soldier's chest. In the corner of my eye I saw a spear aiming right for my chest. I twisted sideways and thrust my sword right into the assailant's stomach. I pulled the blade out of the flesh easily. Crimson stained the pure silver.

I unhinged. Everything became a blur of motions, a flurry of blood, a race for survival. Even though time had sped up beyond its natural limit, I felt it stretch out for me, making me acutely aware of every last movement. My blood ran hot as instinct took a violent hold over my limbs. Some basic drive in me refused to die and it was overwhelming. I became an animal. I had no thoughts. Only movement.

I jumped back. I spun in a wide circle. I blocked a spear. I stabbed into flesh. I sliced through armor. I bashed. I dodged. I ran. I kicked. I cut. Bones cracking. Muscles tearing. Weapons falling. Blood spilling. Soldiers dying. Metal on metal. Metal on skin. Metal on bone. Screams. Shouts. Cries. Gurgles. Footsteps. Silence.

I inhaled sharply, as if I had been submerged under water for too long. The berserk need to survive had passed. My limbs ached and my shoulders stung. Exhaustion hit me so hard I nearly toppled over. But the sight before me hit even harder.

Bodies. An endless ocean of bodies. All of them wearing Hylian armor. Their arms and legs were twisted in grotesque angles. Blood and viscera sullied the skin, clothes, and dirt in every possible direction. Nothing was left untouched by the crimson. No one had survived.

One hundred and five brave Hylian soldiers had been here today. One hundred and five men with parents, siblings, children, lives outside of this war. One hundred and five soldiers devoted to driving evil away and bringing peace back to Hyrule.

Now it was just me.

And their blood was on my hands.

I fell to my knees. The pain in my chest was debilitating. My throat stung, and I wanted to cry, but no tears came. Not a single tear fell. I screamed. I screamed and screamed until my voice was hoarse. I dropped my head in my hands and pulled at my hair. I resisted the urge to tear out my own heart. I sensed a benevolent force approach from behind me, but I did not acknowledge it.

"Master Link," Fi said. I couldn't deal with her right now. She was too calculated to understand this. "There is no time to mourn. Your chances of success are dropping significantly." I growled. Shut up. "Please stand up. I suggest that you advance to the Gate of Souls." In one fluid motion, I stood up, drew my sword, spun around, and sliced right through the sword spirit. The blade passed through her body without so much as a sound. "That is not wise, Master," she said, completely unfazed. I ignored her. She didn't push the subject and floated off to who knew where. I certainly didn't care.

These men deserved to be honored… And the task was mine alone to carry. The Gate of Souls could wait. I scanned the mass of soldiers, searching for the red plumes atop the captains' heads. One… two, three… four… five. I carried them, one at a time, up to the nearby keep, laying them in a vertical line on the cold ground. I knelt by each captain, positioning their arms over their chests, closing their eyes, smoothing out their armor. I paid my respects to each man, praying, apologizing, crying.

I never once heard Captain Ryoki speak ill of anyone. He was about to retire once the war was over. His only daughter had recently married, and was expecting her first child. He had promised to be by her side as she gave birth. I focused my gaze on the lines under his eyes. A sign of kindness, they say… I prayed his daughter would not bear a son.

Captain Mojoto, on the other hand, had never desired children. His passion lay in the military. I didn't even know if he had a wife waiting for him back home, or if he would have returned to an empty house. He would never meet my gaze. I wasn't well-liked by Captain Mojoto, it seemed. I was too defiant for his taste. But he was a good soldier. A good man.

I would always be grateful to Captain Shiroji. Without him I wouldn't be alive. Although that wasn't such a good thing now… But Captain Shiroji was Hyrule's best. A no-nonsense captain in every sense of the word. Only vital information, no more, no less. His men held a great deal of respect for him and obeyed his commands without question.

Captain Tihino was a man of few words. I didn't know if I could even recall the sound of his voice. He believed in the solidarity of actions over flimsy, fragile words. He did have a booming singing voice, though. On more calm nights in camp the soldiers would sing, and Captain Tihino's voice thundered over them all. That much I could remember.

Captain Hoshino… I almost broke at the sight of him. I put off seeing him because I didn't think I could handle it. And I couldn't. He meant more to me than my own father, had I known him. This man… he was my father, if I had any say in the matter. He had accepted me as his son. Brought me up from nothing. Taken me in like a wounded bird. And I… I killed him.

He had always dreamed of a wife and children. He knew exactly what she would look like, knew their exact names and futures. I would listen to his stories of the future at night when only he and I were awake to stoke the campfire. He had so many plans figured out for his life after the war. There was so much potential for Captain Hoshino… but all of it had been ripped away.

I couldn't look at him anymore… I placed my lips on his forehead and stood. I let the tears fall freely. I straightened my posture and gave my most patriotic salute. Then I clenched my fists and brought them horizontally over my chest, bowing deeply for the captains. I wished them each safe passage into the Sacred Realm, praying for the gods to give them a peaceful afterlife, free of worldly regrets.

Turning my back on the captains, I returned to the rest of the soldiers. I picked out twenty yellow arm bands, and slowly carried twenty Alpha battalion soldiers up to the keep to lay by Captain Ryoki. One man stood out among the rest, his yellow tunic stained with too much blood. I fixed his cap back into place, sweeping the matted auburn locks from his eyes. Sergeant Pipit… the only soldier from Skyloft. He had put his faith in our cause. But that hadn't been enough.

The bright red hair of Private Menge caught my eye off to the side. I knew almost nothing about him, as he preferred to keep to his quiet self. I'd liked that about him. He was one of our strongest warriors, though. The strongest in Alpha at least. He was fast, efficient, fierce, and would always emerge from battle completely unscathed. Not this time.

I looked next for the red bands of Beta battalion, taking twenty trips for Captain Mojoto's soldiers. Corporal Gorin had a wide gash across his chest. His armor was lighter, closer to his body, to allow for easy movement through the trees. On the ground, however, he wasn't meant for frontline combat. He attacked from the rear, usually with arrows or a spear. He didn't stand a chance…

The only other boy I knew in Beta battalion was Private Roma. I barely knew him, but he was almost the spitting image of his older brother… a man in my own battalion that I had been very close to. He was killed in action in the Valley of Seers, and Roma was recruited to take his place. We never once spoke. My heart ached for their now childless mother.

I counted twenty men wearing orange Omega bands, and brought them to the keep to lay next to Captain Shiroji. There was only one soldier I knew by name. His mousy straw-colored hair stuck to his youthful face. If he were standing, he would have barely reached my chin. Maybe. Private Kenji… he was still so young. Not even stubble on his cheeks. I imagined his mother weeping after him, begging him to get inside the house, to hurry before the rain came, to wait until his father came home. He was not fit to be a part of this war. Not fit for the fate he had been given.

Two other faces grabbed my attention next. Two brothers, with identical brown hair, blue eyes, and freckles. Not a single feature separated one from the other. I'd never learned their names, but I had been very fond of them. They brought laughter to the tents. I lay them side by side, arms interlaced together, at the end of the Omega line.

I took each of the blue banded Sigma soldiers and lay them in Captain Tihino's line. I couldn't remember any of the men's names. Syllables and initials popped up here and there, but no conclusive titles. I'd never had much of a chance to learn the names of the Sigma battalion. They always fought so far away from Delta, and usually set up their tents on the opposite side of camp. But that was no excuse… I stood before each one, and offered my silent prayers.

Only green arm bands remained… Delta. I personally knew almost half of the soldiers in my battalion. Not enough, in my opinion. I carefully gathered my comrades into the keep and lay them by Captain Hoshino. I stopped to look at Private Nojinji. He had probably been my dearest friend… We shared the same tent as trainees, and even into battle. He would always smuggle extra rolls into our tent for me after dinner. I pushed messy black hair out of his face. He was lucky to have been assigned under Captain Hoshino; anyone else would have ordered to have it chopped off on his first night of duty.

Privates Isumi and Akira had been nearly inseparable since childhood. They vowed to join the military together. They demanded to be assigned to the same battalion. They even died side by side. It was only logical that I lay them together. Private Sokinda had only joined the army to make his father proud. His mother died when he was a child, and his father raised him with an iron fist. Private Rin had hopes of opening a bakery after retirement. He volunteered as one of our army's cooks, and had been the one who baked the rolls I loved so much. Private Hongo was a large, burly man. That was really the only thing I knew about him. Captain Hoshino usually had him march at the front of the battalion due to his size and strength. He could take down Moblins with impressive ease. Private Hige's platinum blond hair was what always intrigued me about him. It was the brightest color I had ever seen on another person. Almost white. Usually my yellow hair was the lightest. I found his beautiful.

I stood to look at all the men, neatly arranged by battalion. One hundred and five brave Hylian soldiers… I didn't think of them as traitors. I wouldn't and I couldn't. It wasn't their fault. And I would carry the guilt of their deaths for the rest of my life. I did not deserve my life if they were forced to lose theirs. I dearly hoped they could somehow know how deeply, truly sorry I was. How I would gladly join them, if not for the task at hand. How I would resurrect them all, if I could. But not even the blackest magic could do that. My tears had since run dry.

I drew my sword and raised it skyward. A sacred gesture, taught to me by Sergeant Pipit. The people of Skyloft had a legend that told of a brave hero, whose sword was connected to the heavens, and when he pointed it to the sky, good fortune would come. Prayers would be answered. The action felt instinctual, and I decided it was a fitting farewell for the soldiers.

For too long I stood before the soldiers, my mind running wild with empty thoughts. The sadness had passed, replaced by a hollow void in my chest. Neither was really better over the other. I knew that none of them would want me to feel remorse – soldiers die. But the gravity of their lives bore down on me. No matter how I felt about them today, tomorrow, years from now, there would always be a corner of my mind reserved for these men.

I finally tore myself away from them, eyes traveling up the incline and landing on the sanctuary in the northwest. A pulling in my gut reminded me of what I needed to do. What I had come here to do. There was no more time to spend standing here idly. Feeling as if my boots were made of iron, I began the trek up to the Gate of Souls.

The silence of the forest was crushing. Only the sound of my breathing and footsteps permeated the dense air. All other remaining enemy troops had either been killed or retreated. It was just me and the trees.

I could only recall the tiniest of memories of the slaughter. It had all happened so fast, so instinctually. It hadn't been my eyes that had guided me through the throng. One image alone stood out: their eyes. That look in their eyes. Wide open, but unfocused. They didn't see me. They saw right through me. The eyes of drones. Of puppets. Controlled by a most vile form of magic. Cast by a most evil sorcerer. Embers of rage sparked to life in my chest. That wicked sorcerer was to blame. He caused this. He was the reason why over a hundred lives were forced to come to a violent, abrupt halt. Why hundreds more would be ruined, and had no choice in the matter. Why I had suddenly become a murderer, with no hope to redeem myself. The sparks ignited, burst into an uncontrollable, roaring flame. A wicked grin spread across my features.

I could certainly try.

The sanctuary came into full view, the white stone of its north-facing visage standing tall and proud. I overlooked its reverent beauty, focused on revenge. I stepped through the arched doorway, past sacred trees and shrines. I stepped slowly in an attempt to muffle the click of my soles against the hard floor. To my right was an opening that led to a large chamber and there it was. The Gate of Souls. It stood before a large gear-like structure. The outer edge of the Gate was inscribed with strange markings, no doubt magical incantations. The very center was the blackest vortex, an echo of the evil it had caused.

Standing before it, in the center of the area, was the sorcerer.

All I could see of his frame were lithe, pale legs from under a large crimson cloak. He stood away from me, muttering intelligible words to himself. A growl, not unlike a wolf's, emerged from my throat. At the noise, the man perked his white head to the side, at last aware of my presence, but did not turn to me.

"Ah. The lone survivor," he said. The chill of his voice was dripping with arrogance. "I knew you would come, hero." The title sounded like a joke from his mouth. "I was beginning to worry, though. You were keeping me waiting. I'd assumed the worst. But fortunately, here you are."

He still would not face me. He sauntered toward the Gate of Souls, farther and farther away. He ran a gloved hand along its perimeter. "Tell me. How did you like my little spell? It was very successful, wouldn't you say?" It took all my willpower not to lunge at the man and skewer him. No. A good soldier never kills a man with his back turned.

The sorcerer dropped his hand, shifted his weight to one side, a pointed ear tilted in my direction. "Man of few words, are you? You know it's rude not to respond to a superior." I couldn't suppress a scoff at that. "No, I know your type," he spat out the last word. "Thoughtless at best – brainless at worst. And painfully mute. But never hesitating to throw yourself into the throng of battle. Kill now, ask questions later; the hero's mantra."

If he was trying to anger me, it was working. I could barely string my thoughts together. The short silence was interrupted by the sharp snap of his fingers. I watched his vermillion cloak disappear from his body. "But enough of this nonsense." He spun on his heel to face me. "Let me see who the gods have–"

He stopped speaking immediately, eyes wide with shock. His hand was clutched in front of his chest. I could finally get a decent look at the sorcerer. His white hair fell in a sheet over the left half of his face. Clothes of the same color, with patches of diamonds cut out, fitted his slender frame, interrupted by a thick golden sash. It all looked rather ridiculous, but also somehow… familiar. His lips closed and opened slowly.

"S-sky child…?"

I didn't realize that I had taken a single, pining step forward at the sound of his voice. My anger had been forgotten, if only for a moment. An unknown sensation triggered in my gut. My head ached. I was pulled back to an ancient memory, the blood of divine ancestry bringing it to the forefront…

"Look who it is." Deep chocolate eyes bore into mine. "I thought that tornado I stirred up would have tossed and torn you apart, yet here you are. Not in pieces," he smirked, though not in humor. He added, "Not that your life or death has any consequence."

He was dripping with a sort of confidence I could not pin down. But his words… they gave me a whole different feeling. One that ran down my spine with every syllable that left his silver lips. "Oh, but listen to me. I'm being positively uncivil. Allow me to introduce myself."

How was it possible that his name was forcing its way out of my mind, even though I had never heard it? How was possible that I sensed the curves of his body, the tone of his muscles, even though I had never seen them?

Every word he spoke made my hair stand on end, made my fingers twitch in defense, made me wish I could escape. "Which is why I promise up front not murder you…" His tongue traced the shell of my ear, hot and wet. I shuddered. "I think I may need to change my plans for you… sky child."

My entire body felt tense. Like a giant fist had clutched me in its grasp. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. My fingers felt cold and numb. There was a burning ache in my abdomen. My lips tingled. My chest and throat felt tight.

I knew this sorcerer. I had known him in another life. As another man. Another hero.

Ghirahim.

In my peculiar reveries, I hadn't noticed the self-proclaimed Demon Lord step closer. It wasn't until his outstretched arm had entered my field of vision that I reacted.

With animalistic speed, I drew my sword, rotated in a sharp circle, and brought it down on the sorcerer's head. Before the metal could slice through his neck, however, Ghirahim caught it between his fingers with impressive ease and strength, not breaking eye contact, not even to blink. A gasp left my mouth. Weakness.

Still holding my blade, he spoke in a meltingly hushed tone. "Is it really you, child?" The words fell on deaf ears. I struggled to wrench the sword from his grip, but he quickly relinquished his hold, causing me to stagger back. Upon landing my gaze back on his face, I noticed his expression had hardened, brow furrowed.

"No," he sighed. "Of course not. You're something entirely different." The expression in his eyes sent small jolts of empathy through me, against my better judgment. "Let me get a good look at you," he said, magically removing his gloves. I took a defensive step back, sword angled in front of me. I wouldn't play that game.

Another sigh left his mouth. A tired sigh. "Sheathe your weapon, boy. I am many things, but I am not dishonest. Allow me this one request." It was more of an impatient demand, but I chose to ignore the feeling in my stomach and comply. He and I both knew I did not trust him. But I was a fair man; as long as I could have the upper hand I would listen to his whims.

Ghirahim only paused for a moment before cautiously raising his hand up, the other held at his chest hesitantly. He moved forward, less than an arm's length away, and I looked up at him. It was then that I realized that the Demon Lord was taller than me – I would be lucky to touch the bow of his lips at my full height.

The distance between him and me was too small. I could practically smell him; freshly forged steel, dried blood, and… cinnamon? The combination was a hot, overwhelming aroma that I found myself seeking solace in. I breathed it in deeply.

He placed his hands on either side of my jaw. I didn't shy away at the touch. But it wasn't in defiance. He looked straight into my eyes, scrutinizing, studying every detail. I silently watched him worry his bottom lip.

"The resemblance is striking," he said, more to himself. "Same skin, same hair, same eyes. But it's all wrong. You're so different." I tilted my eyebrows in confusion. He dropped his gaze to look up and down my body briefly.

"You are taller, for one. By quite a bit, if my memory serves. And older. You've come of age." Longing crossed his features at that statement.

I flinched as he suddenly raked his fingers through my hair gently, pulling it behind my ear and resting his hand at my neck. "Soft as ever," he muttered. "More yellow than I remember… but equally stunning. Brighter than the sun."

He absently brushed my earlobe with his thumb, making contact with the earring there. "You even have pierced ears," he mused. "A rich tradition, I'm sure." A dull smile graced his lips. I fought the urge to pull away from him, feeling it would not be wise to do so.

"Your eyes are the most different," he whispered, almost taken aback, as if he hadn't really seen them until now. "I remember these eyes vividly. They were so blue. So breathtaking. They were the reason I…" He trailed off. "But yours… yours couldn't be more different. They are ten times more beautiful than I remember. But I don't… I can't read them. I don't know what you are thinking, and I can't stand not knowing." He paused for a moment, wetting his lips with a dart of his tongue. "There is one thing I can see: you've been tainted. There is no innocence in your eyes. I can't tell if it was taken from you, or if you gave it willingly, but… it breaks my heart." I broke my gaze at that, finding it suddenly hard to breathe.

For a long time Ghirahim stood there, holding my head up between his hands, just looking at me. I squirmed from under his stare, strange feelings building in the pit of my stomach. I felt trapped, like a caged animal. Wavering, alien memories flashed through my mind…

He removed his talon-like grip from my scalp and ran his hand along my cheek, tilting my head up to face his glare. "That's a good boy. I love your obedience." Only his forefinger held my chin high. All I could do was look into his flashing ebony eyes in fear.

My body heated up at the reminiscence, as if I were surrounded by lava. I worried I wouldn't be able to escape if I lingered in his hold any longer.

My stomach knotted up and jumped into my throat. This couldn't be happening. I must have fallen into some twisted nightmare… My eyes began to sting with the threat of tears.

The churning in my gut was unbearable. I hardly knew what he was talking about, let alone what was even going on. What would he do to me? Was he going to kill me? Torture me? Or worse…? My heart raced in fear. My fingers twitched as the urge to break free took over.

I began to panic. I wouldn't fall into his trap.

Of its own accord, my left hand shot up to the metal behind my back, and in the blink of eye, I thrust the Demon Lord into the nearest wall, free hand clutching his throat, the tip of my blade poised to strike. My breathing was suddenly ragged and heavy, and I felt a stinging pain in my shoulders from the exertion. I had nearly forgotten the injuries there.

Ghirahim's eyes were wide, but not entirely surprised. I glowered up at him, silently daring him to speak, which he did.

"Are you going to kill me, boy?" The glint in his eyes was like a smirk, but his lips were set in a thin line. "Are you going to kill me like you killed the others?" I bared my teeth. It was all I could do not to snap his neck. But I wouldn't lose my temper any more than I already had.

My shoulders – the right one, specifically – screamed at the tense angle I was keeping them locked in. I tried to suppress the most minute wince of pain, but it was no use.

"You're in pain," he said. It wasn't a question. He was trying to shift my focus. Gain control. I squeezed my fist tighter around his throat to silence him. He grasped my forearm, though not in desperation. His expression was soft. Almost pleading. "You're in pain," he repeated, slowly. "Stop this. You're hurting yourself." I glared at the Demon Lord, tortured by his mind games…

Ghirahim rubbed my shoulders, directing me away from the barrier. He leant down to whisper in my ear. "You're such a good boy, sky child. You know that, don't you?" I shivered. His tone, although hushed, was sweet, seductive. My eyelids fluttered at the sound. "I have a favor I would like to ask of you, if that's okay." After a small hesitation, I made a small sound of affirmation in my throat and he continued. "I need you to obey my orders. Listen to me without question. Can you do that?"

I shook the memory away, barely able to suppress a shudder. The way Ghirahim was looking at me was intense. Silently pleading with me to let him go – but not for his own sake. But I swore I wouldn't let my guard down again. Inevitably, the tight pinching in my right shoulder, and the pulling ache in my left, made the decision for me. I unclasped my hand from the Demon Lord's neck and slowly brought down my arms, hissing at the harsh sensation.

Ghirahim gave me a sidelong glance, reading my face. "Well?" he asked simply. I looked up at him for a moment, gnawing at my bottom lip. I didn't know what sort of expression to give him. "You've been injured – something I would have never thought possible from the gods' invulnerable hero." I let out a brief, humorless exhalation at that. Hardly. "What happened, then? Where were you hurt?"

I hesitated, unable to hide my skepticism. I wondered if he was trying to trick me, and I tried to pull some form of evidence of that out of him. A devious gleam in his eyes. A splintering crack in his grin. A crooked tilt in his stance. Anything. But I could find no such proof. Only curiosity. Whether or not it was innocent curiosity I could not tell.

I considered what it would mean to show him the injuries. I would not be able to defend myself in an instant, something I took great pride and comfort in. I wasn't sure there were any alternatives, though. I gave a resigned sigh.

I made to remove the scarf around my neck. It had become my most beloved piece of clothing over time. It cascaded to the ground like a delicate turquoise waterfall. Next I moved my fingers to the buckle in the center of my chest, quickly unclasped it, and held my sword in shield in hand. I made very deliberate eye contact with the Demon Lord then. After a brief moment of unspoken agreement, he nodded his head once in understanding. I followed suit, then lowered the weapons to the floor as well. The belt around my waist joined them soon after, along with my leather gauntlets. I clenched my fists opened and closed experimentally at their absence.

With one hand I pulled the cap off my head, letting it fall behind me. Finally, deciding against removing the rest one by one, I clutched at the hem of my tunic, chainmail, and cotton undershirt all at once and tugged them off. I let them collapse in a heap at my feet, not really sure what I should have done with them. I almost shivered at the sudden chill of the air, completely exposed to the elements without all those warm layers.

I didn't need to indicate the location of the injuries on my upper body; not only were they were more than visible for the sorcerer, but he had already latched his attention onto them, stepping closer, eyes wide.

He leaned down to inspect the spear wound first, occasionally running his cold, slim fingers along or around the raised, jagged flesh. I suddenly felt that it was grotesque on my skin, having him examine it so closely. Cupping my shoulder, Ghirahim made rough contact with its counterpart on my back, eliciting a small but sharp gasp out of me. He quickly removed his hand but otherwise gave no reaction.

"Is there a lot of pain?" he asked, bringing his eyes up to mine. I shrugged. To be honest it came and went. "I can assume it never truly goes away," he mused. "But somehow I can tell that you don't mind." After a moment of contemplation, I nodded. He made an intrigued noise, seemed curious about it, but decided to move on to the opposite side.

The pink, scabby skin went as far north as my earlobe, as far south as my elbow, and as far inward as the dip between my collar bones, with similar dimensions on my back. His fingers felt like freshly spun silk against the tight, overly-cured leather of the area. He spent more time studying the area than the healer had. It made me feel warm all over.

I didn't know what I was supposed to do, if anything. I let my hands dangle at my sides and held my breath without realizing it, just waiting for him to finish. Ghirahim brought a hand to his chin, apparently deep in thought.

"I'd recognize it anywhere," he muttered. "These were inflicted by Volga, am I correct?" Somewhat surprised at the accuracy, I nodded my head. He simmered at the response, pacing back and forth like an irritated bird ruffling its feathers. "That insolent dragon," he sighed, lips pursed tight.

The Demon Lord pinched the bridge of his nose, and before long, spoke once more. "I am sure this was clear, but… That hot-headed General has a particular, shall we say, taste for your blood. As of late, he had been trusted under my command. He demanded that I allow him to hunt down the chosen hero, whose head he wished to run through a stake. Naturally I refused to let him act on the boiling vengeance in his heart. Such unstable behavior on the battlefield is unacceptable. But it appears that he had not obeyed my orders."

I was merely silent, standing, watching, listening. His agitation suddenly gave way to a more thoughtful expression, and he had stopped and turned his head in my direction. "That means you were there that day. In the sky. I sensed you," he said softly. "I thought I had heard screaming. Horrible, desperate, hopeless screaming. The sound of one doomed to die. That had been you."

He regarded my shoulders once more. "These injuries nearly killed you, did they not?" I didn't give any answer. I didn't think he expected one. "I must give credit to your gods; you are truly a marvel for managing to endure such suffering." I looked away at his last comment, instead down.

"It's a shame," I heard him say, causing me to meet his eyes, confusion likely evident in mine. "To have such perfect skin spoiled so badly…" There was a mischievous sort of grin plastered to his face, and his arms were crossed over his chest. It seemed like he was talking to himself, but didn't mind if overheard. "It's really quite lovely, you know. Your body." The slightest jolt. That was for my ears. "Though I'm sure you're well aware of that," he added. I felt myself frown, face heating slightly.

He shifted his stance to face me head-on. "I can take it away. If you want." He gestured to my shoulders. I cast a suspicious look his way, down at the injuries, back at him. He just shrugged. "No catch," he said, "your choice." I found myself deciding quickly.

I guess I couldn't really see why not.

The sorcerer stepped closer to me. He placed his left hand around my upper arm, the cool of his palm stinging the still hot skin there. His other arm went around my shoulders, bringing me into his torso. I instinctively brought my hands up to push him away, feeling trapped, but he was patient.

"Trust me," he murmured. I didn't let down my hands, but I allowed him to close the distance between us, right hand resting at the curve of my neck. I felt the heat radiate off his form, nearly suffocating in his scent. I winced as a cool sensation filled my shoulder. Almost as if the heat was being drawn out of it, not unlike a spider bite. With my left ear pressed against his collar, I could just make out the beating of his heart. Slow. Solid. Steady.

My eyes closed. It had been too long since I'd been embraced like this…

Ghirahim's eyes shifted somewhat, becoming almost thoughtful. He then removed his hand from under my chin. I didn't let it fall. Placing his hands on each of my shoulders, Ghirahim pulled me forward gently and lay me against his chest. He wrapped one arm securely around my waist. The other went over my shoulder, easily removing my cap and letting it join my weapons, and buried his hand in my hair, stroking slowly. I didn't question the gesture.

I snapped out of the dream-like vision when arms pulled away from my body. I craned my neck upward to look at Ghirahim, sneaking a peek under his near-silver hair; a black diamond was etched into his cheek.

"Take a look," he said. I gasped at the sight of my right shoulder, touching the area with my opposite hand – the skin was just a clear and fair as it had been before I had gone to Skyloft. And entirely painless. I'd almost forgotten what it was like not to feel pain there.

Without a word Ghirahim reached for my left shoulder, aiming to fix it next. But before he could touch it I stopped him, clutching his forearm automatically. I looked at him, almost confused. "You don't want this one gone?" he asked.

I furrowed my brow and peered at the raised, slightly discolored area. It stretched from my collarbone nearly to the crook of my underarm. I… I guess I didn't. Once again I realized that this mark had somehow become so significant to me. I almost liked the way it looked, and had grown accustomed to the pain. A large part of me didn't want to ever look at my shoulder and not see what I should never forget. I was more than blessed not to have lost my arm – or worse. It served as a reminder that I am very much a mortal man, even with the divine power coursing through my veins. I finally gave a small and slow shake of my head in response.

"Suit yourself, boy," he said. "Though it does seem to compliment you." I tilted my head to one side, bangs spilling across my eyes. "How can I say this…" After a moment of contemplative hesitation, he continued. "There's something… untamed about you. Like a wild animal. A fierce beast, born and raised in the throes of war. And this," he motioned to the scar, "somehow adds to that." I contemplated that. I'd been called many things, directly or… otherwise. Not all of them good. A wild animal was a first. But I didn't need any elaboration. Somehow it made sense, so I simply nodded in understanding. He paused for a moment, making a very strange sort of eye contact. "I don't understand it, though. You're quite the enigma to me."

I realized I was still gripping his forearm tightly. But I didn't let go. He didn't seem to mind. I felt his muscles under my fingers. Strong and unyielding. I looked up at the Demon Lord. There was this… pull between us. I couldn't put my finger on what it was, or what I could have called it. But I realized that it didn't feel strange to be in his presence, to be unarmed and unthreatened by him, even to be willingly half naked.

My stomach felt like a ball of hot iron that had been submerged in icy water, sending angry bubbles and steam to the surface. I felt his eyes roam about my face and chest, burning a trail down my body. The air felt thick, like at any moment it would spark into an electrical storm. I could only breathe out, slowly suffocating, yearning for oxygen. It was all so… intense… Why…?

An overpowering urge swept over me. I groaned, pushing harder into his body. I whined at the loss of his touch. He snuck an arm under my back, pulling me closer. His fingers pulled at my hair. His skin was intoxicating. I could feel his muscles trembling. He was tipping over the edge. And so was I.

I let go of his arm with a start, face hot at the images in my mind, shaking my head to keep them at bay. I looked up at the Demon Lord through my hair, a little short of breath. His expression threw me off. Did he know what I'd been thinking…? His eyes lingered somewhere around my abdomen.

He cleared his throat. "Get dressed, boy," he said curtly. What was going through his mind? I stared at him, trying to find out. His dark eyes were carefully guarded against any interrogation. I turned back, keeping my gaze for a moment too long, before reaching for my clothes.

Being on the pickier side about wrinkles, I pulled the layers apart, replacing them one at a time. I'd gotten into the habit of being tender with my right shoulder, and it was bizarre not needing to.

I tried not to notice, but I was acutely aware that Ghirahim was intently studying every move I made. I didn't know what I was supposed to think about it; he was just standing there, only a few paces away, arms crossed. Blatantly, shamelessly watching. Trying to bore into my very soul, it seemed.

I risked a glance as I was strapping my gauntlets on. His expression was unreadable, but it seemed like he could have been smirking if his lips weren't drawn together so tightly. He brought to mind the image of a bowstring stretched to its limits. When would it snap…?

I reached for my cap and scarf. I felt a little more than vulnerable with my back turned to the Demon Lord. Fixing the soft fleece around my neck, my ears perked at a sudden shift in the atmosphere. But for once I was too slow; before I could even register what was happening, I was slammed into the stone wall, Ghirahim towering over me, his palms planted on either side of my head. I was too stunned to fight back or resist. All the air had been forced from my lungs. I looked up at the sorcerer above me…

I felt so small, suddenly. The way my head was tilted upward almost completely. The way I could feel his soft breathing against mine. I tightened my grip, feeling like I would fall without him holding me. I flushed under his scrutinizing gaze. Like he was trying to memorize me. I wanted to cry.

Ghirahim looked at me with an intense fire in his eyes, but said nothing. I grazed my nails against the stone behind me, swallowing thickly, almost forgetting to blink. The sudden sharp tap of Ghirahim's fingers against the wall startled me. I focused on the muscles in his jaw clenching, tensing, as he opened his mouth to speak.

"You feel it, too."

The sound was deliberate and heavy, filled to the brim with everything he didn't need to say. There was no tone, no inflection. Only meaning. I didn't know how, but I understood. He was both telling me and asking me.

I felt it… the pull. It was an attraction. A magnetic tugging in the pit of my stomach. A physical desire… no, a need. A craving. Jolts and sparks rippled through my body at the very sight of him. He was so close I could feel the heat radiating from him in waves. His very aura was overpowering, dominating, like thick tendrils invading my very existence, forcing its way inside through every orifice. It was all I could do not to collapse into him. The urge for him bubbled to the surface. I at last allowed it to consume me. Shamelessly. Freely. Forbidding myself from breaking eye contact, I gave a single nearly undetectable nod.

Then everything happened at once.

Clutching a fistful of the turquoise fabric at my neck, Ghirahim pulled me off the stone wall and crashed his lips into mine, free hand flying to the base of my neck. I gripped at his upper arms, half in defense, half in a sort of needy desperation. A low, guttural sound resonated deep in his throat, sending tremors to the farthest reaches of my body.

He unclenched his grip from my scarf and slunk his hand into my scalp, tilting my head back just the slightest. Giving him the advantage. He forced his way into my mouth, and assaulted me with his tongue. I moaned into him, which seemed only to egg him on. The Demon Lord tore his hands away from my hair and neck to reach for the garments I had replaced only moments ago. His sharp fingernails scraped against the skin on my sides, and I shuddered into him. Our lips, teeth, tongues barely parted as he stripped my upper half bare, but he did not hesitate to stop there. I clumsily attempted to help him remove what remained before clawing at his own garb. The instant I felt the unrestrained heat of his skin pressing against mine it took all my will power to pull away just so I could look at him in his entirety.

Ghirahim's godlike body could have been chiseled out of marble. And for all I knew it was a real possibility. A distant part of my mind wondered how perfection like him could find a figure such as mine desirable. But such thoughts could not travel far, for Ghirahim impatiently lunged at me once more. Pursuing his prey. The sensation of his smooth, carefully carved muscles suffocated me. I cried out at the feel of his enveloping heat. He pressed me into the stone wall harder and harder, crashing our teeth together, bruising my slick skin with his powerful fingers. Everything about him burned, marking me with his entire presence.

The Demon Lord groaned into my mouth, a deprived, wanton sound. He was relentless, taking all of me at once, as I simply craved every moment. It overwhelmed me and had me begging for more all at once. I felt the sudden absence of one of his hands only when he tangled it in my hair and pulled sharply. I hissed at the delicious pain as he assaulted my neck with doubled ferocity.

I felt him pressing into my abdomen, hard as diamond. My mind was so hazy, mouth hung open, eyes shut tight. The hand gripping my waist began to roam around my body, caressing along my hip, grazing across my shoulder blade, scraping down my chest. When confronted with the spear wound, his touch became that of a ghost's, ever so gently hovering over it with the tips of his fingers, without losing a hint of momentum.

Downward his lips went, onto my chest, demanding to touch and claim every piece of me. He pressed his hands into the small of my back, and I arched into his practiced mouth, tilting my head back. Too soon he crawled his way back up to my collarbones, sucking and nipping at the cool flesh there.

I felt the vibration of his voice against my skin rather than heard it, and opened my eyes at the sound. For the briefest of moments, we locked eyes, and his expression… I both thanked and cursed the gods at that look in his obsidian eyes. So clouded, so unguarded, so lustful, so greedy… I couldn't have been prepared for any of what was to happen next.

But I welcomed it.

With unsurprising roughness, Ghirahim pushed me around and into the wall, my chest and right cheek pressed into the cold stone. I shivered at the sudden vulnerability, my instinct to resist, but I somehow knew that he demanded my obedience. I stood as still as my quivering legs would allow.

The Demon Lord slowly, agonizingly pressed into me, not quite fulfilling my silent pleas. His hands covered my own against the wall. So close… so close! It was all I could do not to whine, cry out, press into him, give him what I so desperately needed him to take.

Soft, wet, composed kisses lined the shell of my ear, around the hoop in my earlobe, gradually making their way to the dip where my neck and shoulder met. All the while his hands ran up the length of my arms, reached around to slide down my chest, abdomen, hips…

Closer… and closer… and closer…

With a final sloppy press of his lips against my ear once more, Ghirahim became still. His ragged breathing filled me to the brim, sending chills down my spine. I couldn't have stopped the coarse, needy whine from leaving my lips if I wanted to. His hands were on my chest and one of my hips, clutching so tight, but unmoving. Our chests rose and fell in rapid, uneven unison.

Being sure to graze the flesh of my ear with his teeth, he opened his mouth to utter what was nothing short of a command.

"Now."

Lithe fingers clinched around my hips and tore my lower abdomen away from the wall, eliciting a surprised but exhilarated gasp out of me. My spine curved at a harsh angle. I dug my forearms into the stone wall for stability and craned my head to one side. I watched the Demon Lord through lidded eyes as he ran circles in my back side with this long thumbs, spreading me farther and farther apart. Lining himself with my entrance. Finally, with no warning or hesitation, he forced himself inside me with a single sharp thrust.

I cried out at the splitting, tearing pain, moisture briefly pricking at the corners of my eyes. But there was no time to adjust. Ghirahim groaned huskily as he thrust forward a second time, muttering what sounded like an ancient swear or curse out of the side of his mouth.

With every violent jerk of his hips, the dull ache gave way to a sweet sense of bliss pooling in the pit of my stomach. My poorly stifled grunts of pain gradually became soft, uninhibited moans of pleasure. And then, Ghirahim slumped forward, leaned into me, pressing his hands into my chest. The new angle drove me nearly over the edge. It felt like lightning striking from within me, causing me to cry out in raw pleasure, with every thrust.

And the Demon Lord took all too much pleasure in making me squirm. He reveled in my blissful torture. He brought a hand to my jaw and forced my mouth open, to savor each noise that spilled from between my lips. And I eagerly, lustfully, gave them all to him.

Eventually, but all too soon, my whimpers no longer seemed to satisfy him. His free hand abruptly wrapped itself around my aching, weeping member. I gasped in surprise, practically sobbing for release. His jagged breathing pitched upwards for a fleeting moment, asking a wordless question. I clutched at one of his rigid forearms, almost for balance, and nodded frantically. If I possessed any civility before, it was certainly long gone now.

Not needing any further encouragement, Ghirahim began to stroke back and forth… but too slow! I growled at the sharp dissonance between his hand and his thrusts, pushing myself into him in either direction. A dark, sinful chuckle vibrated from deep in his throat and into my chest. But he obliged nonetheless.

Almost too quickly, Ghirahim's hand matched the pace of his thrusts. I spasmed uncontrollably at all the sensations, violent tremors running through my body like earthquakes. The sounds leaking from my mouth were now continuous and unending, growing in pitch and volume. That sharp tugging in my gut. I couldn't take much more…

I hung my head, sweat-soaked hair hanging in my closed eyes. I clenched my teeth and let out short bursts air. My chest felt tight; I was coiling in on myself. It was almost painful, but I didn't dare let it stop.

I grunted and groaned nonstop, hoping to convey my impending climax. Ghirahim made hurried, breathless noises of acknowledgement and agreement, thrusting and stroking impossibly faster. I pushed into his unyielding body as the tugging spread like molten iron to my legs, arms, fingers, up my chest and into my throat, ready to drown me. I begged for it, prayed for it, needed it more than the blood running through my veins, and then I erupted like a geyser.

Every muscle snapped at once. Every nerve ending jolted in unison. My entire body convulsed and shook as I rode out the intense orgasm. I spilled out across the stone wall, finally relieved of all tension. Meanwhile Ghirahim pounded into me harder and more intense than ever, rocking my hypersensitive body to the core, pulsing and contracting from within me. Shudders and gasps and breathy moans fell out of my mouth like a sluggish river of lava. I clutched his arms so tightly, digging my nails into his smooth flesh, as wave after wave of aftershock flowed through me and the Demon Lord slowly came to a stop, having spent all his energy as well.

It took a long while for our breathing to slow to a quiet, even stop, and only then did Ghirahim gently pull himself away from me. I groaned, but kept my stance, using the wall for balance.

I thought he was going to walk away from me. I thought he might leave me here naked and exhausted in the middle of the sanctuary. I even thought he was contemplating killing me. I wondered if he would take my sword, or snap his fingers, or call upon the power of the Gate of Souls, and I would simply fall where I stood.

But he didn't do any of those things.

He stood beside me, back against the wall, and looked in my direction, at nothing in particular. His head hung listlessly, looking deeper in thought than I could have thought possible. It caught me off guard. I put my weight into the wall, carrying my head on my arms as I regained my energy. I was more than curious about what could be running through his head, but I wasn't sure the silence was meant to be broken this time. I just looked at him, the way his arms hung at his sides, the way his chest neither rose nor fell as he breathed, and how, aside from a gentle breeze swaying his silver hair slightly, he might as well have been a statue. I wasn't sure what to do.

The strange silence stretched across time and after a while I wondered if he had fallen asleep somehow. But finally, with a sharp intake of breath that pulled me out of my own dreamlike state, the Demon Lord opened his mouth to speak.

But no words came out.

A strangled croak emerged, but nothing more. Was he… Was he speechless? Knowing Ghirahim, it was surely a rare occurrence, but I just turned to face in his direction, one elbow still perched against the wall, head tilted to one side.

He gave a nearly imperceptible sigh and turned away, seeming to wave it off. My fingers twitched, almost wanting to call after him. Head tilted toward me, but making sure to avoid my eyes, he made a gesture to the pool of green fabric on the cold floor.

"I… You…" he started. "Dress yourself. We're…" He took a deep, heaving breath, steeling himself for his own words. "We're not quite finished here." He snapped his head away and made to retrieve his own clothing.

I followed suit and did as he said, stepping into my pants and boots, layering the undershirt, chainmail, and tunic over one another, buckling my gauntlets tightly. For some reason, I avoided glancing over my shoulder at Ghirahim as he readjusted himself. I perched my cap on disheveled hair and held my scarf in one hand when I felt eyes glaring through me. I silently turned to face the Demon Lord, his colorless garments once again clinging to his frame. He had that same expression on his face, the same dullness in his eyes. I had half a mind to step forward, to try to change that look, but he beat me do it.

"I'm sorry, child," he said softly. His fingers curled to make fists. "I'm sorry for everything I've done. To you. Your ancestors. Your… your soldiers." A pang of grief stung the back of my throat, but I pushed it away. The outer corners of his eyes crinkled like paper as he squeezed them shut, and he ground his teeth together in frustration. "I just…" He ran a hand roughly through his hair, wiped sweat off his brow. For once, it seemed, he was at a loss for words. He reopened his eyes, straight into my own, and what I saw, what I felt from deep within those eyes, nearly broke me. The fleece between my fingers cascaded to the floor, forgotten.

"I just wanted to see him again," he said.

Him… His hero. The boy who wasn't me. But I looked just like he did. I could piece together, at this point, what he had been to Ghirahim. An obstacle, at first… a play toy. But then an addiction, and then…

But what did that make me?

"I was promised my sky child," he continued. "Cia told me I could see him again, if I cooperated…" He sounded so hopeful. "I still do not know if she was lying." He adopted a sort of sad half-smile then, looking into my eyes with what I could only describe as longing. "I didn't know… I had no idea that… that his blood lived on. But you…" One of his hands hovered in front of his face and he shook his head slightly, letting out a breathless chuckle.

"You look just like him. I mean…" He looked above me, past me, around me, at anything but me. "Looking at you… It's like seeing him again, and I want to hope… but you're all wrong. It… hurts." His eyes settled on the floor, his voice growing less and less steady with every passing moment. "You are not my sky child. Nor will you ever be. Your presence is entirely foreign to me, worlds apart from his.

"And yet," he looked up, eyes tinted pink, "my hearts aches for you."

It felt tight and heavy somewhere deep in my chest. Ghirahim took slow, loud, even breaths to steady himself, but it didn't seem to work. Praying that it wouldn't backfire, I stepped forward and placed a hesitant hand in the center of his chest. I let the distance between us remain, however small.

An uncharacteristic gasp left Ghirahim's mouth, but he stilled all the same. Slowly, carefully, he enclosed my hand in one of his own, a tender smile just barely gracing his lips. But it wouldn't reach his eyes.

"My sky child…" he whispered. "All I wanted… was my sky child. Nothing else mattered in my life, once he came to me. I didn't even understand it until it was too late… I was too far gone to reverse the spell he put on me." A small sigh. "He was oblivious to his own magic. He did not know what he was doing to me. The damage he had done…

"But I was deluded to think that- that I was entitled to him. No one owed him to me. Certainly not his goddess," he said, bitterness dripping from his words. "Our fates had been woven together, but in such a way that left no room for negotiation." He paused for a moment there, and a cold, empty laugh echoed through the large chamber. I flinched. "How poetic," he mused cruelly, but did not elaborate.

"What's more, I would be blind to think that I deserved any less than what I was given. But my sky child… he did not deserve it. I would have given him the moon, if circumstances had been different." He swallowed. "If I… had been different.

"But instead…" He stood there in silence for a long time, just shaking his silver head back and forth gently, mulling over the words in his mind. When they finally came to him his voice was a little more than a whisper. "The last time I saw him… it was here. In this forest, a thousand lifetimes ago. I wanted to steal him away one last time. My final act of selfishness. But I knew… I knew what I was meant to do. Our fate was locked into place and I could not change that."

He wet his lips, pausing to gather his fraying composure. "He wouldn't do it, did you know?" I remained silent, looking away. "He refused. And I swore to myself I would never make him cry again… But it had to be done. The thread of fate binding us together was meant to be severed by his blade. Nothing more, nothing less. We were never meant to be anything to each other…"

Ghirahim let go of my hand at that. I let it drop to my side.

"I'm sorry, child," he said again. "I must face what I have done, and accept the consequences. I have no place in this war. Nor do I wish to be a part of it any longer. I am tired…" The Demon Lord held his arms together, cupping each elbow in the opposite palm. He stared into my eyes for what felt like a long while. Finally, he stepped toward me, pulled me into his chest and embraced me, one hand on the back of my head, the other around my back. I awkwardly maneuvered my arms to wrap around his waist, holding my arms together tightly behind him. He buried his nose in the mess of my hair, breathing a little uneasily, and when he spoke, the words were muffled and warm.

"Thank you, my child."

I looked up at him, disturbing his place on the top of my head. Our foreheads touched and his eyes opened slowly. Small crystalline trails leaked from under his eyelids. I could feel small puffs of air coming from his parted lips.

"I got to see you… one last time," he said. More tears made tracks down his cheeks. "You, the beautiful, tainted, wild animal, were just what I needed to… to heal this pitifully broken heart. No, you are not mine, but that is alright. It allows me to separate the pain from the pleasure. It allows me to choose to look back only on the latter, and forsake the former. It allows the torment… to end. And for that, I thank you."

Ghirahim then cupped my cheeks in both hands then, and pressed his lips to my forehead. He sighed, a great, heavy sound of relief, and slid his hands down to my shoulders, resting his head on top of mine once more.

"I think," he began slowly, "it is time for me to leave now. I think I have found the means to be at peace at last." I grasped at his forearms. He gave a short exhalation, almost a chuckle. "Do not worry for me, boy. I will simply just… go away. There is nothing for me here. I know that. The Gate will take me where I am meant to go."

He bent down to meet my eye level, giving me a meaningful look. "And my magic will follow me, you know. Every trace of my influence will be wiped away by the Gate. You know what that means, don't you?" His jet black eyes sparkled as he waited for me to respond. I simply stood there silently, slowly working it out in my head. Suddenly I inhaled sharply, wide eyes filling with tears. I brought a hand to my mouth and nearly doubled over, turning in the other direction, in the direction of the sanctuary's exit. I looked back at him with hopeful caution. What I saw was the first genuine smile on Ghirahim's face that I had ever seen, but he quickly turned more serious, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"They will not remember any of what happened at this place," he said. "You can tell them that destroying the Gate caused them to lose their memories. But more importantly, they will certainly not hold any ill will toward you. So you do would do well not to hold any to yourself. You did nothing wrong. They will all surely live long and fruitful lives."

I swallowed the lump in my throat, hesitating to nod before realizing he was right and that I would do my best to comply. I reached out to him, overwhelmed with a thousand different feelings, but he held up his hand.

"Consider it the least I could do. You do not owe me anything. I have received far more than I deserve from you," he said. I exhaled, choosing not to push the subject. "In fact," he added, "take one last thing from me, would you?" He tilted his head to one side, his hands fumbling around his earlobe, before taking my hand and placing something within it. When he removed his hand, it was a small, perfectly carved sapphire. His earring. "It feels right to give it to you," was his only explanation. I closed my fingers around it and accepted it without a sound.

"Well, child," Ghirahim said, "I do believe I have overstayed my welcome. I must go. Forget me, if you can. I have lived long enough. I no longer wish to leave a mark upon this world."

He turned to the Gate of Souls. I chose to inspect the gem in my hand, rather than watch him walk away. But by the sound of his feet on the stone floor, he made it several steps before stopping. I lifted my head up to see the Demon Lord hesitating before the Gate, an arm's length away. He slowly turned on his heel, his eyes pleading with me. His voice was barely audible, echoing off the stone walls.

"I need to know… Was he happy? In the end."

I opened my mouth, only to close it again. Without warning, my mind flooded with strange images, alien thoughts, unknown feelings… The sky child's memories. But I was not reliving them through his eyes; it was as though I was outside of them, observing from right beside him, in front of him, behind him. Like I was being allowed access to a locked collection of memoirs… in order to know how he felt…

How Link had fallen to his knees, fingers still clinging limply to the hilt of the Master Sword… How the sacred metal had wedged itself into the soft earth where Ghirahim's lifeless form had laid moments earlier, before dissipating like smoke… How the young hero had screamed, screamed out into the dense forest air until his voice gave out… How it felt like he couldn't scream loud enough, couldn't push the anguish in his heart out of his chest hard enough…

Link didn't know how long he had been hanging from his blade like that. Nor did he care. The clouds – those purple-brown clouds that would never empty – never let up to tell him how much time had passed anyway. Eventually Link stood from his uncomfortable position, robotically, as if strings were pulling at him to move. He ambled his way into the Temple and through the Gate of Time, where Zelda, Groose, and the Old Woman had been restlessly awaiting the boy's return.

Once Link stepped through the lavender gear-shaped structure, it slowed to a stop, becoming immobile, having served its purpose once and for all. He stood directly in front of the Gate, not moving, not looking up, not wanting to breathe anymore.

Zelda came to his side almost immediately, no doubt sensing his presence only a moment after his arrival. Her ever-perfect hair and dress swayed around her as if she were under water. She stood in front of her dear friend, not attempting – or daring – to break the silence.

She slowly, hesitantly reached out a small hand to touch Link's cheek, shoulder, chest. But she immediately recoiled as Link let out a miserable wail and threw himself at the unmoving Gate.

Over and over again he flung himself into the hard, glass-like material, grunting and crying and screaming with every impact. Hoping he would crack it… Wishing he could break himself across it…

Zelda shouted his name over and over, unable to tear the boy away from his self-inflicted torture. Ultimately it was Groose that had to restrain him, enduring blows from Link's hands, feet, elbows. Groose didn't try to say anything to him. He only held the blond hero tightly until he finally went limp in his arms, weeping inconsolably, quietly. The Old Woman was silent during the entire ordeal. She simply went to Zelda's side and held her hands as the girl shed tears for her friend.

Groose and Zelda took Link home to Skyloft. Zelda held his hand as she guided him to his bedroom at the Knight Academy, but his fingers were limp against hers. She had no choice but to leave him sitting on his bed alone, to reunite with her father, as tears streamed down his cheeks silently.

That first night… That first night was the hardest.

Link dreamt of horrible things. Bound by a thick pewter chain. Imprisoned by the Demon Lord himself. The metal around his neck, wrists, ankles, cut into his flesh, pierced his skin, made everything ache. Ghirahim yanked at the chains, suffocating the boy, drawing blood, bringing him closer.

Link was forced to kneel at Ghirahim's feet, naked, terrified. His voice was sickly sweet, but his hands burned like acid, electricity. He could not put up a fight as the Demon Lord did unspeakable things to the blond… To his mind, to his body, to his very soul… Things that cannot be forgotten upon waking…

He woke up screaming, crying, sweating… By the time Zelda had crashed into his bedroom, Groose and her father close behind, he was convulsing on the floor, bedsheets tangled around his feet, around his neck, and he was clawing at his chest. The young priestess came to Link and held him as tightly as possible, tears falling from her own eyes.

Once the hysteria died down and the students had been instructed to return to bed, Link was sobbing into Zelda's chest, grabbing at her thin nightgown for support. Zelda only knew to stroke her poor friend's hair, cooing into his ear, rocking back and forth until he finally fell back into another fitful sleep.

Days, weeks, months passed…

Link would not eat unless someone was there to supervise him. He would not wash himself unless Groose stood at the bathroom door as he did so. Sometimes he would slip under the bath water for dangerously long amounts of time. And nearly every restless night was filled with unending horrors.

Eventually, everyone stopped trying to interact with him. Pipit would turn in another direction when Link would stumble outdoors to escape the dreams. Fledge rearranged his schedule so he never crossed paths with him. Even Groose would give half-hearted excuses whenever Zelda tried to rally their friends together for Link's sake. But nobody wanted to anymore. They were drained. Even Zelda was losing energy; she only had the energy to rub circles in Link's back from the edge of his bed when he cried into her shoulder in the middle of the night.

And in the back of Link's mind, the miniscule part of him that had still managed to remain sane, he didn't blame any of them. He knew he was a burden in everyone's lives. He knew that he was no good anymore. That he was irreparably damaged. He knew…

He was broken.

He wanted the pain to go away… He wanted the nightmares to stop…

He wanted Ghirahim back.

But he knew none of it would never be possible.

Nothing Link did could ease the constant, heavy ache in his heart, in his head, right down to his very soul. More than anything, though, Link was tired. He was so tired. He just wanted it all to be over already… Link had lost control of everything in his life. He wanted to regain control. To take back his life and end the pain once and for all. And above everything else, he didn't want to make Zelda worry anymore. He didn't want her to hurt anymore. Not because of him.

So he made his choice.

Link didn't want to drag it out… for his sake, or anyone else's. That same evening, with the moon lighting his way, he quietly, slowly snuck into the Bazaar apothecary. When he returned to his bedroom, he decided to lay down and wait for Zelda to check on him. One last time…

Before long, she knocked softly on his door and entered. Her nightgown swayed around her calves as she gently closed the door behind her. It reminded Link of the dress she wore all those months ago. How beautiful she was. As Link looked at her fatigued face, she was certainly no less lovely, but the divine spark in her eyes had dulled. That was his fault…

Link slowly sat up as she perched herself at the edge of his bed. His hair had grown long and unkempt, and easily hung in his eyes. She gently brushed it away and looked at him. Link felt a wave of emotion wash over him. His throat suddenly stung as tears came to his eyes. Zelda said nothing, and simply wrapped her arms around him and held him close.

At that moment… Link felt at peace. He had made his choice, and that was good. But he hoped Zelda would be alright. He hoped she knew everything he wanted her to know. That he loved her, would always love her, and had always cherished her deeply. That he was beyond grateful to her for her immense patience, kindness, and devotion. That he was sorry for everything he had put her through, for not being there for her when she needed him, for failing her on more than one occasion.

He hoped she would understand this last selfish act of his.

Zelda stayed with him, rubbing his back, giving him comforting words, holding him close. She told Link that she loved him, and that she would always be there for him. More tears trailed down Link's cheeks. He slowly embraced her around her slim waist, sobbing quietly into her shoulder. Zelda was a strong young woman. Far stronger than he. She was going to be okay, he was sure.

But Link was really going to miss her.

Once his tears had finally run dry, Zelda left, placing a soft kiss on his forehead on her way out. After he was sure she was safely in her own bedroom, he gathered what he had taken from the apothecary.

Sleeping potions.

He wasn't sure how many he would need, but he took the entire stock. A couple dozen at least. He set them down at the foot of his bed. With a deep breath, he looked at the plum-navy colored liquid in each of the glass containers. This was what he wanted. What he needed. He took a bottle, uncorked it, and swallowed the contents in one large gulp. With a shudder at the taste, he picked up another one. And another one. And another one.

He continued until his entire body felt like it was made of anvils. He used the last of his energy to push the remaining potions under his bed before lying down on his back. For the first time in what felt like forever, he had no tears to shed. His eyelids drooped closed. The pain would go away now. He welcomed it.

I was jolted back to reality just as suddenly as I left it. I blinked several times and looked around to gain my bearings, my mouth set in a thin, tight line. Only a few moments had passed.

Ghirahim was staring right at me, right through me, begging me for an answer. The Gate of Time spiraled ever onward, possessing all the patience in the world, in contrast to the Demon Lord before it.

"Was he happy?" he repeated. "Please…" His voice broke. I took just a moment longer to process everything I had seen. That was his sky child. Someone who had grown to mean everything to the sorcerer in front of me. I understood it all now. Somehow, everything made sense. I looked into Ghirahim's pleading eyes.

I couldn't do it.

I nodded once.

His expression softened somewhat, the corners of his lips threatening to curl upward. His eyes darted around my features for a moment, before bringing a clenched fist to his chest and nodding his head. With that, he took a step backward into the Gate of Souls and vanished, the evil portal immediately following suit.

A/N: And with that, we come to our close.

Please tell me your thoughts, emotions, opinions, in a review if you feel up to it. Favorite and follow as well, if you wish.

Once again, this has been quite the journey. There's no way I would have been able to do it without all of you every step of the way. I cannot tell you how humbled and grateful I am to have been given so much positivity over this story. It means worlds to me.

If you want to read more, please stay tuned for whatever I may have in the future (on this as well as my other account, the link to which you can find on my bio). I do not think I am finished with our scarf-clad friend, to say the least.

But as for Encounters, my Lovelies, this is where I leave you.

I hope you enjoyed this as much as I did. I wish you a happy holiday season, in whatever form you choose to celebrate, and I hope for a good year to come for all of you.

I love all of you very dearly. And for now, Midna out. *Chuu*

P.S. If you have thoughts that mirror those of our dear sky child, please know that you are not alone. There are hotlines, websites, chat rooms, facebook pages, not to mention friends, family members, and even devoted fanfiction writers that love you and know how special you are. This was just a story; this does not have to happen to you. You are loved, probably more than you can fathom, and there is always hope. Don't forget. You are loved.

P.S.S. I wanted to mention that I had a GoFundMe account. I decided to put the link on my bio. But I don't have the heart to ask for any more of your limitless charity. Keep it in your mind, though, please, if you can? Keep me in your thoughts... Thank you. Until next time, my beautiful people.