The blue-clad Wizzrobe stood a respectful distance from the center of the throne room. He did not fear the bulging sack of Malice hanging from the ceiling, but neither did he want to draw its suspicions. Who knew what Demon King would do if one of His most powerful servants ventured too close to the womb of His rebirth?

Kori had no desire to find out. Risk had never been his forte, not in his mortal life and certainly not now. Unlike the other Lomei, the ice warlock preferred to strike only when assured of victory. Even in such a mean state of reincarnation, he harbored no ambition against the Demon King. As he did with the magic he commanded, he would wait until his quarry was all but paralyzed.

Such had been the Wizzrobe's way even before reaping the benefits of Ganon's favor. When he was a mere mortal, the eldest of the Lomei had pulled the strings of men without the benefit of a throne. The Tabantha and neighboring Hebra Mountains were harsh lands, and Kori had promised their people trade and protection. He kept those promises. The payment for them was unspoken and unnegotiated dependance - a steep fee indeed when the bill came due. Rhoam had nearly been too late to save his own subjects from being taxed dry. Not of money or land, but that which Kori knew was of even more value - freedom.

Now Rhoam was just another dead fool, a twig swallowed in the avalanche of the Demon King's coming. True, His return had been delayed, was still being delayed even now. Even with the magical knowledge bequeathed to him, Kori did not understand how. He knew only that Rhoam's ignorant offspring was the thorn in His Lord's foot. The Wizzrobe fingered his unyielding wand, which was tipped with a sapphire of unequaled quality. Soon, very soon, the girl would break like her father before her. Then his Master would reign with power immeasurable - which meant a small portion could surely be spared for His most faithful servants.

It was for this reason Kori had returned to the bowels of Hyrule Castle - to prove his faithfulness. The Demon King had summoned him, and so he had come. Now he stood in the former seat of Hyrule's power, which was now symbolically home to his Master's imminent return. Everything from the Guardians crawling spider-like over the castle grounds to the unnatural crimson sky hovering only over the fortress itself spoke of the Calamity's gathering strength. Soon, now, it would be unleashed on the pathetic remnants of a shattered kingdom.

The sound of lightly clad feet meeting flagstone seized Kori's attention, though he did not show it. Unlike the red-robed Wizzrobe now entering the Sanctum, Kori was not prone to rash reaction. That did not mean he trusted Kasai. Far from it. If he encountered his brother elsewhere, he would kill him without a thought if possible. That, Kori knew, was why they were bidden to serve in such disparate parts of Hyrule.

Kasai's own wand, alike in every way save the gem at its end was a ruby, immediately flared to life upon seeing his elder brother. Even beneath the folds of his cowl, the Wizzrobe's hate-filled grimace was palpable.

"You would risk slaying me in His presence before our tasks are fulfilled?" Kori coolly asked. "That would be rash, even for you. What failure fans your flames this day, brother?"

The ruby atop Kasai's wand flared brighter for an instant, then winked out. He did not stow it within the folds of his robe, however.

"Tell me, brother," the Red Wizzrobe taunted in a voice sounding of dead leaves, "does it grate you to sit by and watch me claim the opportunity for which you would slay hundreds for yourself?"

Kori's icy calm cracked. His brother's words hit too close to home. The Blue Wizzrobe had been livid to learn the means to ultimate honor - the power and authority of Karanlik - had chanced near Kasai first. The boy was within easy reach if the Red Wizzrobe, supposedly all but helpless for the taking.

That last thought filled the fissure Kasai's words had opened.

"I never tire of watching you flail about in incompetence," Kori answered flatly, his blue-gloved fingers nonchalantly twirling his wand. "I hear that not only does the boy yet elude you, but a hovel of Hylian refugees still stands against the might of your forces. I am eager to hear the Master's appraisal of your efforts."

"My grip tightens around the boy and his pathetic allies!" Kasai snarled, his wand alight once again. "The Demon King knows this! I will finish the boy long before he gathers enough strength to oppose Him!"

"Wrong! Wrong! Wrong! Oh, what a pity to be so horribly wrong!"

This time Kori did wield his wand, its sapphire glowing strongly within the Sanctum's relative gloom. Through the same front doors jauntily stepped a third Wizzrobe, this one clad in voluminous yellow robes and cowl. Kori eyed his youngest brother warily. Only once before had all three of the Lomei been gathered since joining the Demon King, and it was only His presence that had kept them from magically tearing each other apart.

And Denki was perhaps the most dangerous of the three, his mind broken beyond recall after a lifetime of punishment. There were times, however, when the youngest Lomei seemed all too lucid. Now was such a time.

"What do you mean, wretch?" Kasai demanded.

Denki giggled and tossed his wand carelessly into the air before catching it by its topaz-bejeweled end. Kori nearly hissed in vexation. The Yellow Wizzrobe's magic was as unpredictable as the warlock himself.

"Must not see well," Denki observed lightly to his wand as he kept tossing and catching it. "Maybe he needs spectacles. Probably burned his eyes out. Goopy eye goo all over the ground because he couldn't control his-"

"Out with it!" Kasai screamed. Kori kept silent. He was both interested in his brother's news and why their Master had not already interrupted this bickering.

Denki, meanwhile, had paused in the act of playing with his wand. His head was cocked towards his irate brother, his hand held still after having caught his wand wrong-end first. Then the Yellow Wizzrobe took a great breath and sang loudly enough to fill the Sanctum with a grating, sing-songy voice.

"No more raaaaaaain! In Zora's Domaaaaain! The sun shines agaaaaaaain!"

Kori's eyes widened, the content of his brother's crazed message penetrating despite the ridiculous manner in which it was delivered. Unsurprisingly, sheer irritation appeared to have blinded Kasai to its portents.

"You are gibbering," the Red Wizzrobe scathingly observed. "I have heard enough of your mad prattling, fool."

IT IS YOU WHO IS THE FOOL, LOMEI.

All three Wizzrobes fell to their knees, their cowled heads bowed low toward the circular focus of the throne room. There, made from the same dull scarlet light that now suffused Hyrule Castle, appeared the rapidly changing image of their Master. From enraged boar to austere man to many-limbed nightmare it flickered, each depiction as great and terrible as the last. Kori understood the boar. Even the man was not a complete mystery. The Wizzrobe knew that Ganon had taken on the appearance of a mortal at least once in the great cycle of Hyrule's history. Why He should keep some shadow of that form was unknown, but Kori knew better than to question any choice the Calamity made. The third likeness… Kori was at a loss for what it was and what it meant. He could only discern a skull with gleaming eyes above whatever writhing mass made up its body. The Wizzrobe averted his eyes, unwilling to risk the apparition's direct attention.

Kori was not alone in submissiveness. Even Denki was temporarily sobered by Ganon's presence. But while Kasai knelt in subservience, he did not hold back the heat in his voice.

"What is this, Great Lord?" the Red Wizzrobe asked, the spoken deference only just blunting his otherwise demanding tone. "Have I not served as commanded in the wetlands?"

"You have served and accomplished nothing."

Kori nearly made a rare show of the shock that now seized him. The voice that had spoken came not from the crimson apparition before them, but from the Hylian that had just entered the throne room. The Blue Wizzrobe sneered at the mortal's black-masked face, which was framed by an equally ebony cloak and hood. Whether to keep his identity hidden or drive fear into others, they were at best pale attempts to the true terror inspired by the Demon King's chosen.

Unless, Kori thought in alarm, he has been made Karanlik.

The thought was fleeting and almost immediately dismissed. This Hylian had sought out Kori some weeks ago, all but promising the honor of Ganon's right hand. Not once had he exhibited any power of his own, save that of grating Kori's normally infinite patience with orders none but the Demon King should be able to give.

Yet here he was now, admonishing his brother in the very presence of their Master. The red apparition shifted from man to boar, but other than that it gave no sign of disapproval over the Hylian's assertion.

Kasai, however, had raised his red-cowled face at the Hylian's brazen appearance. His eyes glowed with the same fiery light that now emanated from his ruby-tipped wand.

"You dare address me thus, Hylian filth?" Kasai furiously rasped.

"I do, and with the Great Lord's blessing," the Hylian casually replied with the slightest of gestures to the ever-shifting spectre behind him. The boar became a skulled, writhing nightmare but otherwise remained a silent, domineering observer. "Be grateful He has deemed your life worth keeping. He may not if you interrupt me again."

Kori heard his red-robed brother's enraged wheezing at the reprimand, but was ultimately disappointed to see Kasai's wand go dark.

"Good," the Hylian said, clearly unsurprised to see his words obeyed. Kori thought it a wonder Kasai kept his temper. As it was, the Red Wizzrobe's hands shook with rage even as the Blue wondered just how much power this newcomer had been granted - and why.

"Now that you are listening," the black-robed Hylian observed with neither care nor concern,
"we can take stock of your 'accomplishments.' The stable still stands, Vah Ruta is calmed, and after they help the boy escape your paltry excuse for a trap, the Zora will come for you.

Kori's mind raced even as he registered his brother's poorly contained astonishment, visible thanks to the trembling scarlet cowl and robe. The Blue Wizzrobe tried to freeze the river of questions coursing through him, each of them laced with self-serving ambition. Patience would reward him most now, even as his brother reaped the punishment of failure.

"Give me leave to find him, Great Lord!" Kasai pleaded fervently, his face still bowed to the throne room floor as he ignored Ganon's mortal ambassador. "I will track him to the ends of Hyrule to finish the task you have asked of me!"

Kori was sorely tempted laugh. His brother's attempts to preserve his exclusive opportunity at power were pathetic in nature and transparency.

"You will have it."

The Hylian's casual reply turned the Blue Wizzrobe's joy into rage frothing just beneath his icy calm. His hand clenched over the sapphire wand. How could the Demon King reward his brother's inadequacy to such galling lengths?

"Thank you, Great Lord!" Kasai gasped with nauseating relief. "I will not fail you! I will deliver the boy's corpse to the footstool of your throne! I will bathe the castle in his-"

"You will succeed or you will return to the pit whence you were liberated," the ebony-masked Hylian interrupted, again with little care for the blubbering Wizzrobe before him. "Listen well, for this is your last chance, Lomei."

Kori registered Kasai's rattled breath, but he took no satisfaction in his brother's terror. His own blood had chilled at the Hylian's words. To be forced to resume Rhoam's original punishment would drive any of them madder than Denki already was. The Blue Wizzrobe risked a glance at his younger brother, who had not spoken nor outwardly reacted at all during the exchange. Kori wondered how Denki's brilliant yet broken mind was piecing this together toward his own ends.

Kasai, meanwhile, had resumed sniveling, an act made more distasteful in its rasping tones. The Hylian cut him short once more, while the Demon King's visage changed again from the boar to the writhing nightmare.

"The boy goes north," the black-masked man informed them. "You will seal him in Akkala, find him and take him. You will do this while leaving behind enough forces to finish the Hylians and the Zora. The boy seeks to gather allies to him as a midden gathers flies. He and they must be struck down before they gather in strength."

A cold smile bloomed on Kori's cowled face. Kasai was being left to drown in the enormity of a three-pronged task that would bleed him dry. If (and when, the Blue Wizzrobe thought) Kasai failed, he would simply scoop up the prize for himself.

"You two will remain where you are to complete your own tasks - regardless of how your brother fares."

Anger jolted Kori to his core. A glance revealed the maddeningly anonymous Hylian looking directly at him. Behind the mortal, Ganon's visage morphed into the man, which now bore a mocking grin. The Blue Wizzrobe made a vain attempt at blanking his mind, which only made the Hylian's smugness increase.

"Yes, Wizzrobe, the Great Master has entrusted me with your thoughts in His presence," the Hylian confirmed. Kori could almost see the small smile underneath the expressionless mask. "Let it serve as a reminder of His omniscience - and of my responsibility to him. Should you forget either, the punishment would be… severe."

Before Kori could so much as acknowledge the Hylian's warning, his mind was seized with a vision he knew well. Walls of limestone enclosed about him, soaring to unfathomable heights until only narrow slits of the sky could be seen. The enormous corridor split into two, forking in different directions until they met their own intersections. Kori ran, frantically seeking escape, but there was none to be had here. There was only the endless stone maze, allowing movement but never freedom.

The Blue Wizzrobe knew his brothers were witnessing the same thing, for their screams mingled with his own.

Leena crouched behind a large redstone pillar, her breathing ragged as she and her sand sister risked a brief respite before breaking cover once more. The night sky added to their concealment. Then again, it did the same for their pursuers.

"Have we lost them?" the red-haired Gerudo whispered, the bitter desert cold forming mist from her breath.

Barta, whose own sweat was fast evaporating in the chill now that they were no longer sprinting across the sands, chanced a glance around the pillar and shook her head.

"I cannot tell," the older woman murmured in reply. "They skulk in the shadows like serpents. We must press on, sand sister. Our people must know of this threat."

Leena gulped in another breath and nodded. She had not feared anything since she was a little girl, when her first encounter with a desert lizalfo had nearly ended her life. Barta had been there for her then, too, with a ready spear and a comforting arm. Now, with the ancestors knew how many of these masked demons trailing them, Barta's sure words were calming indeed.

The Gerudo readjusted the spears and round shields hanging from their backs, their feet finding purchase in the shifting sand as they prepared to flee once more. Leena sorely wished they had sand seals to aid their flight, but speed had not been the initial purpose of their search in the Karusa Valley.

Their thoroughness had been rewarded. The Thunder Helm was here. Yet like so many stories from Leena's childhood, the treasure was guarded by a den of evil. Those stories had always ended with the heroines braving any and all danger to obtain their hard-won prize. They did not mention faceless pursuers and the gnawing terror of discovery.

Leena felt a comforting hand squeeze her arm.

"On my count, we make for the western ruins," Barta whispered with a small smile. "They will not expect us to go that far afield."

Leena felt an ember of courage warm her insides. She nodded in silent and thankful reply.

"Now!"

Sand flew from their feet as the Gerudo sprinted south. Karuso's canyon opened ahead, inviting the vastness of the desert in which the pair hoped to lose their hunters. Hope blossomed within Leena's haltered breast. Surely, under night's cover and amid the abandoned ruins, they would evade the masked ones long enough to bring word back to their people.

A hiss in the darkness. Barta cried out in pain as she fell, a shaft protruding from her leg.

Leena skidded to a halt, but was met by an angry shove to the face when she turned to help her friend.

"Go!" Barta hissed furiously. "Our people must know! Go or I slay you here and now!"

The younger Gerudo might have persisted even under her friend's threat had the audible shifting of sand not betrayed the arrival of their pursuers. Gulping down the sob that threatened to escape her, Leena turned and sprinted down the hill that spilled into the vast desert vistas below.

Barta gritted her teeth and stifled another cry as she snapped the shaft's flighted half. She was about to yank the headed end from her flesh when a soft leather boot stepped on it instead. This time the Gerudo did cry out, and her curse rang off the canyon walls.

Looking up furiously, she beheld her assailant up close for the first time. The moon barely illuminated dark red boots, matched by arm-length sleeves and hood of the same color. Leaden grey leggings and form-fitting shirts covered the rest of him. The stranger's face was concealed by a white mask on which was painted a crimson symbol: an upside-down eye with lashes on its lower lid and a teardrop "falling" upward.

More masked ones filtered out of the darkness, their silence unnerving in contrast to Barta's labored breathing. She cried out once more as her most immediate threat twisted his foot atop the embedded arrow shaft.

"It hurts, does it not?" a man's voice rasped mockingly from behind the expressionless mask. "To be wounded and left for dead by those whom you would call friend? Worry not. Like me, your abandonment may become your salvation."

"The sands take you, modulga bok!" Barta snarled.

"Had you a father, he would have struck down your insolent tongue long ago," the masked one tisked. "As it is, perhaps we will remove it ourselves. But we are not hasty. If you show promise, you too may be counted among the Yiga."

Barta's eyes widened. Like every Gerudo girl, she had heard tales of these Ganon fanatics as warnings against misbehavior. Now, the significance of their present numbers took on an even more sinister meaning.

"I would sooner be counted among the dead!" Barta spat. "Fight me, voe filth, and find out how much promise I can show!"

The Yiga's scornful laugh rang into the night, its echoes accompanied by that of his companions.

"You have spirit, sand wench," he observed with mocking praise. "It will be my master's pleasure to break it, unto obedience or unto death."

Barta struggled furiously as the Yiga motioned for two of his followers to take her. She ceased only long enough to hear the leader issue orders to one of his fellows.

"The other one," he quietly ordered. "Slay her when you find her - or yourself if you don't."

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Life comes at you fast. Back-to-back shoulder surgeries, the birth of my third child and a worldwide pandemic dented my momentum in churning out Book Three. I hope this whets your appetite for what is to come. Those of you who have played BOTW may or may not recognize the Lomei reference. I am very excited for how that small nomenclature (and where it is located) wound up finding a place in this story. As for the Yiga and Gerudo, much more is on the way. Hope this crazy 2020 has been as kind as possible to all of you. - MW