A/N: A short one-shot exploring the moment Link is woken up from his hundred year slumber in Breath of the Wild. Enjoy :)

Disclaimer: The story below contains intellectual properties from Nintendo Co., including, but not limited to, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild and The Legend of Zelda franchise, and are in no way owned by myself, nor do I claim ownership of any of the events that directly correlate with previous installments made by Nintendo Co. in the franchise The Legend of Zelda.

Nothing

By: Selphie Kinneas 175

.:.

All at once he was aware of the presence of nothing.

All at once he could feel the crushing pressure of an emptiness or a numbness, an overwhelming sensation of an absence of all things.

There had been nothing for so long, but it was just barely made known to him that that very nothingness was what enveloped him.

In the instant that the nothingness became consciousness that passed in the slowest ticking of milliseconds into seconds that felt like years into decades, there was a pinprick of light.

In that light there was warmth.

The frigid cold that paralyzed his body started to melt. The icy air escaped his lungs in a puff, his frozen heart beat to life, his fragile bones twitched beneath pale skin.

In that warmth there was sound.

There had been no sound for years, decades, eons. The nothingness had been so immeasurably beyond nothingness. The kind of nothingness that does not even exist. This nothingness was the kind that was something. Something that was trying to reach out for him.

The sound was dull, like a blunt knife used one too many times. The sound was distant, like a mirage in the desert that you're not quite sure is even real. The sound was muffled, like listening for birds in the sky while deep underwater.

It echoed off of the empty chasm of his skull. It resonated like a whisper in a cavern.

It was something amongst the nothing.

The sound grew louder over minutes or hours, he wasn't sure. It was a voice, and it was calling to him. He would have asked who it was, what they wanted, where he was, what he was doing there, and on and on and on. But, he still only knew nothing. And in the nothing, he was no one.

As no one he had no thoughts. As no one he had no feelings. In his state of sleep there was no life, no identity, no purpose. The voice, however, tickled his brain. It awoke his heart. It ignited his flesh.

The blackness had been so strong. It was stronger than he could have ever hoped to be.

"Open your eyes."

But the voice had shooed the darkness away as if it was nothing more than a frightened puppy. He did not consciously open his eyes, but open they did. It was blinding.

He was floating, or existing, he did not know. He was aware of a body that he wasn't sure belonged to him. He was aware of muscles and bones that did not quite respond to him. He was aware of water beneath him, and air about him, and he remembered at last how it felt to breathe.

His vision was a blur, and nothing made sense. Hazy lights surrounded him, and a low humming irritated his sensitive ears as they had not functioned in decades. He blinked out of instinct, and his eyes beheld sight like new.

"Wake up, Link..."

He blinked again. Everything was suddenly so heavy. He didn't feel right; he felt out of place. He felt like a foreigner in a country where he did not understand the language. He felt like an alien on a strange planet without oxygen. He remembered his arms, and he remembered his legs, but he did not remember them being as heavy as bricks.

His head throbbed, his shoulders ached, his back locked up. Still, he managed to sit up.

He recognized nothing. He was an outsider in his own mind. He felt nothing. He thought nothing. He recalled nothing. This nothing was painfully worse than the nothing before it.

That nothing was empty, nonexistent, easy.

This nothing wanted something from him. This nothing beckoned him, awoke him, made him conscious of the fact that he was still in nothing, that he had nothing, that he was nothing.

He was alone, and in his loneliness he realized that no one came to mind to comfort him. He had no one, and he was no one.

As empty as the nothing before had been, he wished he could return to it. This nothing was painful. This nothing was frightening. He knew not who he was. He knew not where he was. He knew… nothing.

He stood, and the void in his mind grew stronger. He had no memories, no recollection of anyone or anything. He looked down at his hands. He didn't recognize them. The fingers curled and uncurled and it felt unreal. They flipped over and he stared at knuckles and nails and skin that were foreign to him. They clenched into fists and he breathed deep into lungs that were not his own.

This nothing was agony. This nothing was torture.

He knew there should be something, but there just wasn't.

He contemplated for much longer than he would admit if he should lie back down. He thought maybe, just maybe, if he lowered himself back down he would find himself back in the sweet nothingness that took him before.

The nothingness that was easy. The nothingness that did not torment or mock him.

He wanted to be out of the brain-wracking misery of feeling nothing inside, the hopelessness of having no thoughts or feelings to retreat to, the desperation in standing on feet he did not know how to control. He wanted it so badly that he almost gave in, until…

A force beyond all reason called to him. He did not know why. He did not know how. But somewhere he was needed, and he would answer.

In his mind he was no one. In his mind he had nothing.

But he would always answer.

End.

A big thank you to the following for helping me get this one-shot out there!

SonadowKokoro100, Debora, Mandelbrot, Chloe Rose, Lotus Eater, Ivalee, Lee Glerum, Gabby-J

You guys are amazing!