HELLO ALL, THIS IS WHAT YOU'VE BEEN WAITING FOOORRRR.

I'm so excited.

SO LETS GET STARTED

Disclaimer, which I have consistently forgotten to put in each one of the 58 chapters of Empire: I do not own Legend of Zelda or any of its stuff, if I did I sure as shit wouldn't work at Walmart. That is all.

Also, this fic will have a bit more vulgarity in it than Empire did. I wanted to do it in Empire, but seeing as they're in a Zelda-equivalent of the medieval time, I'm guessing people back then didn't really say "go fuck yourself". Just a wild guess. Or if they did, they probs had a lot more "e"s at the end of words. Or like, idk. Whatever, I'm done rambling. Prepare for f bombs. :)

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Long ago, the bombs from World War 4 left the world a ravaged, dystopian ruin. But it also released a virus--one that attacked everything.

All living things have an essence. That essence--spirit, soul, whatever you call it--gives that thing life. Without it, nothing can be. This virus went right for the essence of its victim--be it beast or man. It killed that essence--killed that which gave life itself.

It was then that the Anima Triumvae, they who rule three corners of the Animal Kingdom, came down to humanity and told them to bind their essences to that of the animals--to bind what makes them them, completely--all to overcome the virus.

As the legend goes, the animals had gathered at the edge of the forest: deer, wolves, rabbits, squirrels, foxes, cheetahs, lions, tigers, bears, hyenas, bison, dogs, cats, mice. Everything--every animal that walked the earth had gathered, all at the behest of their kings.

Humanity obeyed. Generations passed. Humans had become half-anima, and through the magic in their blood, they could transform into the form they'd chosen for themselves.

As is human nature, they separated into tribes--hundreds, even thousands of them. Hidden deep in forests of old, in cold tundras, on mountaintops and under the earth. Below the waves, across flat plains, and over scorching deserts they survived. They thrived.

The cheetahs: masters of the spear and wit alike, they lived hot-tempered and quick to anger. They prowled the Great Hyrule Plains, forever at odds with the lions--in eternal competition to rule the Fields.

In deep forests the wolves played keep away with the foxes, the trees echoing with the sound of laughter. Daytime was playtime to the forest folk--opposite the night, where the shadows grew long, and fox magic was strong.

High above flew the peregrines and hawks and eagles, battling in their skies of blue. Walking their paths of wood and vine, high above the heads of the grounded. Pride was their strongest quality, and their greatest flaw.

Below the crashing waves were the big blue whales, swimming beside the life of the sea: tuna, carp, tiny minnows and sleek dolphins--but never the orca. Deep goes their rivalry--the fear, and the hate. Even deeper was the shared fear of all in the oceans, that of the terror of the seas: the Great White Sharks.

Fight and play though they might, these tribes--whether of land, seas or sky--make up the three corners of the Anima Triumvae, that which rules over all. They can give, and they can take away. They see, and they listen. They judge.

But even the omniscient can't see the future.