It's been a while, hasn't it? Maybe six months? More? I don't even know. I've lost track, what with university eating up my time, sleep, health and inspiration.

Maybe I should stop pouring so much of my imagination into my university screenwriting projects. I'd still have some ideas left for you folks... ;P

Written over a period of two days, rushed while I fight a fever of epic proportions, this story isn't corrected or revised by Lyxie. I'll come back and double-check it later on, once I recover. I just wanted you to know I'm still alive, and I still love to write. And this is for you, on Halloween.

Haunted

By CM

NEW VICTIM OF KAKARIKO 'GHOST'!
Monday, October 27th, Kakariko ― Late last night, policemen came to the rescue of 44 year-old Malver Chudley, owner of the local Malo Mart, at the intersection of 34th and Park street, only a few steps away from his store, as he struggled to get out of a crushing pile of dirt that had inexplicably dropped out of a motionless container truck. The truck, part of Kakariko University's terrain remodelling plans, was parked there overnight in view of creating a new floral arrangement on university grounds, and had, the driver and owners claimed, been "perfectly secure". All inspections revealed that the truck could not possibly have been able to unload without the driver's keys, which stayed with him the whole night.
Chudley reports that he stayed buried "a good fifteen minutes, doing [his] darnedest to get out before [he] died crushed or asphyxiated" when the policemen found him and helped him out.
Chudley would be the fifth in the past two weeks to nearly die buried alive, and already a local urban legend is beginning to circulate about a vengeful spirit of some kind. When questioned about his opinion on the subject, Chudley snorted and claimed he had "no idea where kids get their ideas these days. I don't believe in Poes, and I just hope this doesn't happen again."
Still, the unusual reoccurring facts, mixed with the increasing impossibility of each 'attack', seems to make the idea of a ghost more and more plausible… or at least, less spooky than not knowing at all.

"Welcome, boys."

Link looked up from the Hyrule Times and a corner of his mouth twitched up amusedly. "Boys?" He echoed, sceptical. He looked Kafei up and down. "That's a little patronizing, even for you, Dotour."

The eldest of their circle shot him a flat, no-nonsense glance and sat down. "No time for criticism, Forester. You know we've finally got a real case on our hands."

Ralph rubbed his hands together, almost eagerly, and licked his lips, shifting his weight on the cardboard box where he sat. "Pitch it, D-man."

Sheik sat back calmly, observing them. His feet were propped up on the cluttered desk in the middle of the office, and amongst the cardboard boxes, the four young men looked like the amateur journalists they were.

At the head of their little operation, Kafei Dotour, chief editor of the Kakariko University Chronicle, was standing near the sole window to their dusty, closet-sized 'newsroom'. Sitting in the executive chair in front of him, swerving from side to side slowly, Link Forester, main journalist, looked sharp-eyed and ready for some action. Their photograph, Ralph Ambi, seemed even more excited than his partners. Sheik, on his part, responsible for the layout, was about as indifferent as he always looked.

Above them, the bare light bulb flickered. Ralph glanced up and rolled his eyes. "We need to change that stupid light."

"Focus, guys," Kafei said, calmly calling their attention back to him. "I've got the latest news on our little friend."

Link smirked. "It's okay," he joked, "You don't have to thank me or anything."

Kafei snorted and nodded. "Right, yeah. Courtesy of Link, we know for sure that our friendly, er, fellow's activities are restricted to the Kakariko area. No other town in the vicinity reports such awkward business. And now, we can explain his gruesome modus operandi."

Ralph heaved a low breath, raising both brows. "Well," he awkwardly said, "Thank gods for that?"

Sheik, ever the pointed one, asked, "How do you figure?"

"Easy," Link explained, standing from his chair to survey his three team mates. "I checked the yard records for any deaths involving shovels or being buried alive." Grimly, he reminded, "You know how our poltergeist loves crushing people with large amounts of dirt. I thought it was an odd way for him to stay around, so I looked into it. Did you know that there used to be a shrine to the shadows at the back of the graveyard? Turns out someone actually died at the hands of that particular cult during a grizzly ritual, some hundred years ago, and was unearthed a few years later, showing signs of having been buried in a coffin alive. Scratch marks and whatnot."

Ralph shuddered, but there was a tinge of excitement in his voice when he asked, "And you think the victim might be our ghostly friend." A nod in reply. He continued, "Well, for him to be that old and still around, he's got to have a physical latch."

"Not just any latch," Kafei softly said, wisdom and mystery tainting his tone.

"A living latch?" Sheik guessed, and at the additional nods, he inquired, "Who is it?"

Link shrugged, consulting his spiral notepad. "Some girl. She moved into town three years ago. Total goody-two-shoes, too: she doesn't go clubbing, or do any extracurricular, or even attend school parties. Just spends all her time in the library or in the music room, playing old classics nobody cares about. I don't suspect she even knows the Poe's latching on to her."

"And you know she's the one because…?" Kafei asked.

"Well, truth is, the only reason I suspect her is that when I did my graveyard tour two days ago, she was taking a walk nearby. I was about to say hi, but I noticed weird lights coming from the back of the cemetery… and the moment she noticed me, well…" At the raised brows, he grimly explained, "She wasn't herself."

"Ah. So, unconscious and vulnerable latch," Sheik concluded, and was met by a dark smile on Link's part.

"Exactly."

"Alright then," Kafei said, getting into the factual information, "so who's our Poe, and who, exactly, is the girl? Link?"

Link dropped the notebook on the desk, and all the guys leaned over to look at the names scribbled on the page.

"Our Poe is an old thing with no recorded name, I reckon. And the girl," he continued, "goes by the name of Zelda Harkinian."

Sheik let out an understanding 'aaah' and leaned back, declaring good-humouredly, "Well, the good news is that she's easy to keep an eye on, what with the routine schedule and all. The bad news is that she's obviously possessed."

There was a pensive silence, until Ralph said, cheerfully, "Link, this looks like a job for you."

Link rolled his eyes. He picked up his notebook again and said, before any of them could get carried away, "I think this is a joint job, guys. I wouldn't think of this as a priority normally, but there's more, and it might interest you."

"A joint job? It's that big?"

"Bigger." Link mumbled, sitting and readjusting himself in his chair. "I looked into the ritual that got our Poe dead in the first place. From what I've found out―"

" 'Unearthed' may be a more appropriate term?" Sheik laconically suggested.

Link's deadpan look would have filled a lesser man with sheepishness. Sheik merely smirked.

"It turns out that the cult isn't as dead as we were told."

This made previously amused faces turn serious within a second.

"What? You mean those occult freaks are still going around killing people?"

"Not people, no," Link shook his head, glancing at Ralph's wide-eyed face. "That'd be too conspicuous nowadays. But I've found animal remains in a dump near the cemetery maintenance house. For that to go undiscovered by animal protection societies, they'd have to be covered by the graveyard authorities, maybe the night watch. I mean, those poor creatures seemed tortured. Not just surgically dead. I really mean ripped apart for sacrificial purposes." He stopped when he saw Ralph shudder, and continued, with more composure, "So, basically, methinks the old shrine isn't as empty and forgotten as we thought."

"Do you think they're the ones who revived our Poe?" Kafei inquired.

"I doubt it," Link said, a grim smirk pulling at his lips. "Because all the victims are part of the cult to begin with."

This was met, as Link had expected, with surprised faces. He nodded, to confirm their silent suspicions.

"Yeah, Chudley, Falbi, Fyer, Jovani, Aghanim… The five victims so far are completely unrelated, except that they are unaccounted for on nights with a dark moon."

"They're based on the lunar cycle?" Sheik asked, pulling his laptop out. He fell silent as he became absorbed by his factoid search.

"You're pretty thorough on this one," Ralph remarked to Link, surprised. "I mean, checking into the victims' antecedents?"

"It's easier when you know what to look for," Link shrugged. "I just had a hunch."

"As per being thorough," Kafei added, amusedly, "You'd do the same if you saw Zelda Harkinian."

Ralph's face melted into understanding. "Oh," he drawled wisely. "I see how it is."

Link glared at them, and went on, pretending he hadn't heard, "I'd wager that Poe isn't going to find his rest ―or let his latch free― until it's put an end to the whole cult."

"Well, let him have at them, then," Ralph grunted. "Crazy bastards."

"We can't do that," Kafei commented. "Because our ghost isn't working fast, and the longer it possesses Zelda, the more dangerous it could be for her."

"Not to mention," Link continued, "the cult could get suspicious. I bet they noticed the connection already. And you all know that fear can make people act rashly. I don't want to think of what kind of rituals they might resort to then."

" 'The dark moon'," Sheik suddenly said, his typing halted, citing from an online source, " 'is a period of rest, and no rituals should be performed then.' White Magic dot com. That they use that moment specifically is a bit creepy, don't you think?"

"When is the next one?" Kafei asked.

"The next dark moon? Ah… sometime at the end of this week."

"Great," Ralph groaned. "As though we weren't rushed in time already."

"We can make it work if we each do our part. I can't be everywhere at once and since we're dealing with both tangible and ghostly threats, on top of being hindered by an innocent latch, I'd rather be covered from all angles."

Kafei sighed, eyeing his regular journalist as Link got tactical. They had a busy week ahead of them, that was for sure.

KAKARIKO 'GHOST' GOES UNEXPLAINED!
Tuesday, October 28th, Kakariko ― Authorities are still debating on the causes of the 'attack' endured by Malver Chudley two days ago.
"It just doesn't make any sense," claimed Inspector Viscen when asked about the rising number of victims crushed by dirt piles over the past two weeks―

"Reading again?"

Zelda raised her head and blinked. "Um. I'm sorry, what?"

The young man looking down at her had awkwardly shoved his hands in his pockets and had scrunched his shoulders in what could have been shyness. His eyes, though, betrayed no lack of confidence, and if he hadn't been holding a quirky smile in, she'd have mistaken his expression for one of superiority.

He was, as Malon would have happily pronounced, lickable.

"It's just," he started, cocking his head to one shoulder as though he couldn't quite keep it still, "I always notice you reading. It boggles."

She meticulously put the Hyrule Times down. "I didn't know a university student had a maximum of words he or she could take in. If I beat any records, be sure to let me know."

He chuckled. "I'd probably write about it in the KU Chronicle first." He shaped a banner in the air with his hands, exaggerating his motion, " 'Student Reads All Words on Campus, Beats Record'."

"A fascinating piece, I'm sure," Zelda remarked, struggling to keep her tone deadpan. She forced herself to look away from the handsome blonde and look back down at the paper. He'd leave soon, once he decided she wasn't anything special. They all did―

"We might actually get more readers that way. A little sensationalism never hurt anyone. And you do seem to be captivated by books. That's unusual."

She glanced back up. He was still there, talking.

"How is liking books unusual?" She couldn't help but ask, a little defensively, it was true. There was no way she'd get a word into her brain while he was there, distracting her.

"So many illiterate folk, I find, and those who are learned are hardly cultivated."

She was surprised. She eyed him suspiciously. "You think the quality of education here is lacking?"

"The education is fine. It's the people I find depressing. But enough about them. What about you?"

"Me?" He was a whirlwind, and she had trouble keeping up.

"Yeah. Tell me why you spend all your time here, reading, when it's either a) a lovely day outside, or b) a party evening for which every other girl simply needs to get ready for."

"I enjoy it?"

He pursed his lips, and imitated a loud beeper. "Wrong answer, ma'am. I suggest you use your right of ricochet and ask me a question."

"Do you speak to strangers often?" She asked, taken aback, and more than a little dizzy.

"Not really― do you mind if I sit?" He motioned to the chair across from her.

"No, I―"

"Thank you," he smoothly said, sliding onto the seat. "As I was saying, I don't speak to strangers much. They don't agree with me. But you're not a stranger. I see you here every morning, like now, when I go to the Chronicle newsroom, and you're always reading."

He pointed to the far end of the quiet reading hall, where the closed newsroom was located. Zelda glanced at it then turned back.

"I like to get some pages in before class."

"A legitimate reply, but now it's my turn to ask another question." He actually paused here, and seemed thoughtful. "I'll try to make this one count. Hm…"

He lapsed into a pregnant silence, which was a welcome rest for her battered conscious. She took the opportunity to detail his features. He was good-looking, in a quirky, boyish way, and she imagined that he spent a lot of time working off his energy in open field sports. He seemed the type.

Malon would have wondered if he worked off his energy in horizontal sports, but now wasn't the time to think about―

"Would you consider coming to the party at Moe's this Friday with me? It's the horror theme night, and everybody's going."

She blinked. Twice. "I― what?"

He had crossed his arms on the table and was looking at her in mild concern, like he actually believed she might say no.

And for a moment, her innate reflex was to say no. She had the decline down pat: 'Listen, I'm really sorry, I appreciate the thought, but I already have something scheduled that night…'

But he looked so adorable, earnest like that. How could she summon the energy to turn him down?

So she said, "Um. I'll consider it. But I'm not really a party person. You might think I'm, well, unexciting."

"Nonsense!" He said, his face brightening up like a thousand watts bulb. "I'll need someone grounded to help me pick up on all the insanity we'll be seeing."

She exhaled, and realised then she'd been holding her breath, and laughed with a gasp, amazed at her relief. "Alright, then. I suppose I can fill that position well enough."

"That's not the only position we could fill together," he lewdly joked, waggling his eyebrows, before letting the joke evaporate in a loud laugh. And though her first instinct was to grimace, she couldn't help an exasperated chuckle.

She was about to remark on his inappropriate comment when he took her hand in his, and all thoughts of speech fled out of her mind. His hand was large, but his fingers were oddly thin and nimble, like a writer's, and his grip was firm without being overpowering.

He brought the back of her hand to his face, gallantly, and managed to make it look like a game she ought to play along with. "Fairest maiden, it would be my honour to present myself. I am Link Forester, and I wish to be blessed with the knowledge of your name."

She laughed. It was her instinct, and it was a breathy laugh, full-throated, sincere. When she could look back at him in amusement, he was waiting patiently and expectantly.

With a smile, she said, "Faithful Link, it is of no particular relevance, but if you must call me by name, I am Zelda Harkinian."

"Zelda," he echoed thoughtfully, and she was stunned to feel the slight shiver of pleasure at the way her name sounded, rolling off his tongue. He seemed to imprint her words into his memory before pressing his lips to the back of her hand, warming it instantly. He lingered there a split-second more than necessary, then gently released her hand, as though he were perfectly aware of his effect on her nerves, and unwilling to burst the bubble of shock and emotion he'd blown around her. "I'll be sure to come by again tomorrow, then, and we'll resume our conversation. For now, I have to go. Newspaper calls…"

He sounded far away, and when she finally snapped out of her haze, he was striding away, whistling, a spring in his step and a cheerful smile on his face.

Zelda hated it, but she was charmed.

Link wasn't charmed.

It wasn't the fact that her posterior was swaying with each step. That, he could most definitely appreciate. She had humble curves, but she strutted like nobody's business.

No, what disgusted him about it was that she wasn't swaying her hips. It was. For all that people knew, she was just fine, but to him, things were very badly amiss.

Evening had fallen already, and streetlights cast a yellow glow on everything. In spite of his KU jersey, he managed to avoid her possessor noticing him as he tailed her.

Her eyes were different. He sometimes caught their reflection in windows as he turned corners. The usual soft blue sometimes shone orange, or purple, or red, depending on the light. He'd seen it enough times to recognize a sign of possession.

Not to mention, the real Zelda Harkinian didn't strut. This he had noticed, even before he began to suspect she wasn't alone in her body. You couldn't blame a guy for looking. She had legs. Long, shapely ones.

And okay, he had a thing for the bookish blonde type. Whatever. That the Poe would make her strut was both provocative and despicable. The sick ghost could easily mimic her normal behaviour ―such things were written in her muscles, which it so casually controlled― and yet it purposely altered everything.

Swallowing his ire, he followed her. She walked with purpose, and got a few appreciative looks from males she crossed, although a single glance at Link's warning glare scared them off.

She reached the front door of an apartment building, but ignored the doors. Instead, she went around the back and pulled down the emergency ladder ―or rather, it pulled itself down when she raised a hand. The Poe apparently had mild telekinetic powers. Link stored the information for future reference.

She climbed up in a light-footed daze, and he scrambled to follow as quietly as he could. Thankfully, the shadows were long by now and he made himself invisible to her gaze.

On the third floor, she climbed in through a window. She'd opened it with a light tap against the windowpane, and it had slid up as though someone had been opening it from within. One foot, then the other. She vanished into the dark apartment.

Heart racing, Link struggled to enter silently as well. At first, he couldn't see a thing, but slowly he distinguished a door across the room. He was in a bedroom. The dark shape of furniture was outlined with black spots in the dark grey. He slowly padded across the shadows and was about to emerge into the next room when a small hand against his chest nearly gave him a heart attack.

He inhaled sharply and jerked back, almost knocking into a chest of drawers.

She was there. She had touched him. Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck―

"Link?"

He blinked. Her voice was ingenuous, even a little worried.

"Link, it's you, right?"

He gulped loudly, and rasped, "Um. Yeah. Yeah, it's… Uh… Zelda, what's going on? Are you alright?"

She sounded genuinely confused. "Am I alright? Of course I am. In fact…" He felt her familiar hand against his chest again, and she pushed gently to make him walk backwards, towards―

The side of the bed hit the back of his knees and he buckled, falling back onto the mattress with an inelegant 'oof!'

"In fact," she continued, her tone changing to one of mischief in the dark, "I'm more than alright." Her hand trailed down to his stomach, his navel, his pants―!

He let out a surprised exclamation, recoiling slightly. "Zelda― what are you― is that― are you―" He couldn't even find his words. "Are you sure―"

Soft lips against his. He couldn't help the surprised gasp, and was embarrassed to realise it had sounded like a moan. Gods, gods, gods, she tasted so good. She was so soft, so warm, so soft, so good… so soft. It flooded his head like liquid fire, until he felt he could explode. Time was endless. His heart beat like a galloping horse's hooves. And then he couldn't keep up with everything. Her lips moved over his cheek, his chin, his throat. Her hands were all over the place, rubbing his thighs slowly, pushing his shirt's hem up.

Oh gods. Oh gods her lips…

"Tell me you want this," she whispered, her hot breath fanning across the side of his face. He could already anticipate what she'd feel like under him, just from the way she said it. The feeling was exquisite.

So it took all his willpower to stop her wrists as she moved her hands downwards to his waistband.

And to twist them forcefully behind her back, immobilizing her as firmly as he could.

She cried out in pain, but under the innocent sound, he perceived the anger of her possessor.

"Are we done fooling around, now?" Link growled.

KAKARIKO GHOST STRIKES YET AGAIN!
Wednesday, October 29th, Kakariko ― A new victim was listed last night in the increasingly long line-up of innocents tormented by Kakariko's resident evildoer. This time, professor Veran Black of Kakariko University got a concussion when a flowerpot fell from three stories up and hit the side of her head, throwing Ms. Black into a temporary coma. Onlookers claim that the dirt, as it spread on the sidewalk, made a spiral so exact it was measured with a ruler to be perfect… Even though no one got close or touched it. This was enough to suggest something unnatural was afoot.
Doctors claim the professor will―

"Good morning."

Link looked up from the paper as he walked and smiled tightly. "Good morning. May I…?" He motioned to the seat across from her.

She pursed her lips. As soon as he was done shoving memories of them on his own from his mind, Link fought to keep from smiling genuinely. Everything, from the way she held her book to the way she tied her hair, was poised and controlled. This was a good sign. The only thing she didn't keep muzzled, he'd decided, was the lash of her tongue. And what a tongue―!

No. He'd done his best to overwhelm her, the morning before, and still her capacity for sarcasm and dismissal had almost thrown him off. He wasn't thinking of any other use for her tongue.

"May you sit?" She completed his inquiry with raised brows. "I suppose, if you promise to be entertaining."

He pretended to think. "Hm, a challenge, but I'll see what I can do." He took off his KU sweatshirt as he sat. "Not reading the Times?" He put his own copy down on the table, examining her sharply.

"I prefer variety," she absently said, motioning to the book she held –a collection of texts on female piracy.

"So you didn't hear, then? The ghost struck again."

"Really?" She sounded genuinely surprised, but Link perceived no stress or guilt. She really was unconscious. Somehow, that comforted him… Still, no doubt about it: she'd been there. He'd seen her. Hell, he'd kissed her. And liked it. "What happened?"

Funny she'd ask that. "Well, for starters, the victim happens to be Veran Black."

Her brows shot up. "That old shrew? The social and political science professor?"

"You don't like her?" He was teasing. It was well known that Professor Black was about as likeable as a large blood-sucking swamp leech.

Zelda snorted, and put her book down. "Who does? Is she dead or was it another close call?"

Link eyed her calmly, gauging her interest and morbidity, and finally decided she was just as curious as any other girl would have been.

"She got a wound, a serious one. A flowerpot fell out of nowhere, pretty much, hit her, and next thing you know, she was dazed and unresponsive. We don't know when she'll be fully recovered. She went straight for the hospital."

"That's kind of a pathetic story," Zelda mumbled. "When every other tale sounds so… I don't know. Exciting, I suppose."

"Define 'exciting'," Link challenged. "I was there." Or as 'there' as he could be. "I saw a woman getting knocked out by a flowerpot; I assure you: she was out of commission. Another man tried to get her to answer him, and she just couldn't." He pouted pensively. "I guess flowerpots hurt more than people expect. They're all innocent-looking, up there on their windowsills, and they make the envy of others, but it's proof you don't want to actually get one in the noggin." Zelda put her chin in her hand and watched him amusedly. He went on. "The question here is, will she ever recover? Will she move on after this horrible episode? I guess only time will tell."

Zelda snickered softly. "You should consider writing fiction. You waste your imagination, writing about true stories."

"Thank you," Link chuckled, taking a small bow. "But more seriously, how are you on this fine morning?" He tried to keep his tone as light as he possibly could.

She shrugged and carefully tucked her book away. "A little tired. I don't know why. I sleep deeply, but I wake up every morning more tired than the night before."

Link observed the fine circles under her eyes, mentally calculating how many nights the Poe haunting her had been active and depriving her of true rest. She shifted under his gaze.

"It's no big deal," she said, waving his concern off. "Must be the stress of mid-terms or something."

"Maybe," he agreed, mostly to soothe her. "How long has this been going on?"

She shrugged. "I don't know… A month, maybe? I haven't been counting, exactly."

He nodded slowly. "Do you think you'll be awake enough for Friday?" He asked, teasing.

She pinned him with a flat look. "I think I'll manage." She hesitated, then asked, "What are you dressing as?"

"A Darknut, most likely," Link shrugged. "Kafei and I found a nice armour replica in a curiosity shop some time ago. We got it for a pretty good price." He eyed Zelda. "What about you? Any ideas? I know I kind of took you short, so if you need help finding a costume, I might be able to help you."

"I think I'll be fine," she said, smiling softly, and, he was sure, with a tiny amount of mystery. He smiled amusedly then glanced at his watch. He still had some time before the briefing at the Chronicle.

"Hey," he began, on a whim, "wanna try something out?" He pulled a small DV camera from his bag and set it on the table so it was pointing at her face.

"Try something?" She asked, her face amusedly sceptical.

"Yeah." He grinned sheepishly. "Thing is, I read about hypnotism in a book last week, and no one's game enough to try it with me. Would you let me try it on you?"

He was taking a risk. Most of the time, he waited for possessed victims to be actually asleep before trying to contact their resident ghost, but it had failed last night and resulted in a struggle that had nearly brained Veran Black.

Whatever thing was using Zelda, it was stubborn and murderous. Link rubbed his shoulder, where a large multicoloured bruise had formed. A bit more and it was dislocated, he was sure. Zelda's strength hadn't been her own, and he'd barely recovered from her knocking him out that he'd witnessed her throwing the pot of dirt off the balcony.

"You believe in hypnosis?" Zelda's tone was carefully detached.

"I don't know. I guess I want to try it before I believe it."

"And the camera is for what?"

"To prove to you that, should I succeed, I didn't make you do anything embarrassing." … And to have proof for analysis with the Chronicle boys.

"How thoughtful."

"I'm cute that way," he joked, and took out a pen. "So. You interested in being part of my experiment?" She was thoughtful for a moment, hesitating. Link pressed further. "I'm only curious. We can both be sceptical, but if you lend yourself to it, we might make a discovery."

"Fine," she relented, and he could tell she didn't really believe in it. "What do you want me to do?"

He grinned and began to record with the camera. "Just stay calm and keep your breathing deep and even." He raised the pen.

Hypnotizing people wasn't the easiest thing he did, but he'd tried his hand enough that he usually got results. This time, he was going to simulate sleep in Zelda's psyche; if her mind were forcefully effaced, the ghost's would be forced to emerge as the controlling entity to prevent his victim's premature death. That was the upside of possession: ghosts were so intertwined with their victims that though they were hard to root out, they were also dependent.

Still, it was risky. If the Poe refused to talk, or if it perceived a chance to attack more people, or even if it refused to leave afterwards, he'd need to call the guys.

But for now, he had a few words to say.

Zelda's breathing evened out until it was so soft he could barely hear it. Under the constant motion of his hand, her eyes had become heavy-lidded and her lips had parted a little.

"Breathe," he murmured. "Let go."

He wasn't sure when the change occurred. It was like Zelda sifted out of herself to be gradually replaced by―

"What do you want, kid?"

The voice Zelda spoke in was deep, rough, and tinged with an accent he didn't quite recognize. The vocal chords were still hers, but the tone's gentleness and control were gone.

"Your name," Link said, slipping into his interrogator mindset. This wasn't Zelda. It was a thing using Zelda. An intruder. A threat.

"Who cares?"

"I do. Your name, Poe."

"You're that idiotic little boy who thinks he can stop me. You've caught on, I know. You're tracking me."

"Answer my question. What is your name, Poe?" The threat in his inquiry couldn't be mistaken.

"You're not going to harm me," the ghost said with such assurance that, for a second, Link actually doubted he could. The crooked grin on Zelda's petal-pink lips was feral and twisted. "You think my host is much too pretty to cause any harm to."

"I have my methods."

"To kill me, you'll have to kill her, boy."

"Haven't you heard of exorcism?" Link said, fighting to keep his cool and sound as confident and detached as his opponent. Weakness at this point wouldn't get him any answers. "I've got a history. I've made stubborn bastards weep for their evil lord before they evaporated. Don't think you're any different."

"As I said, if I go, everything goes. I'll rip her soul to shreds on the way out."

Link clenched his jaw and fixed the Poe with a steely glare. "You'd risk yourself to prove a point?"

"I'm not leaving until I'm done squashing every single cockroach that ever venerated that altar," the Poe snarled, spittle flying with his syllables. "If she dies in the pursuit of that wish, it'll be for a good cause, and you'd do good to stay out of my way if you don't want a similar fate."

Link leaned forward over the table, his glare direct and fiery. He'd never been this irate towards a spirit before. "I will destroy you, Poe, so help me, if you so much as pull a single hair from her head."

The grin on Zelda's face grew wider until it was truly contorted and malignant. A delicate hand came to finger a lock of hair that fell onto her collarbone, and twisted it gently, but though it was Zelda's hand, it gave the sickening impression that something else was caressing her golden hair, something she wouldn't have welcomed if she'd been conscious. Link fought the urge to cut that hand off, and his fidgeting must have been noticeable, because a rumbling laugh spilled from Zelda's lips. "So you say, but I'm in charge. I can touch her any time I want. I can see her all the time. Every second. Every day. She's pretty, isn't she? And so soft and gentle and quiet, too. Her hair is like silk…" A finger played with a golden curl. Link struggled to keep seated, fury boiling in his blood. The ghost disdainfully snarled. "We've been through this in our time, boy. Don't kid me. We both know what an exorcism entails, and you won't have the guts to go through with it. Not this time."

"I think you're going to find I'm a creative bastard."

"You're going to need that imagination, when the girl's parents come asking why you did such an agonizing blood-letting to their daughter, and how you could possibly let her die when you noticed I was too well anchored in."

Link couldn't help it. He raised a fist and it flew towards the Poe's hideously contorted face―

A gasp. Link stopped, his fist an inch from Zelda's face. She stared at him wide-eyed, breathless, confused and worried.

Thinking fast, he raised two fingers, "And now, what was the second thing I asked you to remember?" He was breathless.

A pause. She blinked. Link forced an optimistic grin onto his face, struggling to calm the flow of anger that had swamped him mere seconds before. It made him dizzy and sick to the stomach.

"Um… I don't know…" She said, her throat raspy. She coughed a little to clear it.

"You don't?" He fell back, trying to look disappointed. "But I did it exactly according to the instructions…!"

He was lying, but he was good at it. He couldn't make himself tell her the truth. He was shaky with anger and an unhealthy dose of concern.

"I don't know," Zelda smiled, a little winded, "I think I was out for a moment, there."

Link smiled lopsidedly. "Really? But I think we debunked the myth. I can put you to sleep, nothing else."

She laughed. Link raised the camera, which he'd turned off.

"I guess this tape isn't proof of anything," he said. "I can show it to you, but after that I really have to jet―"

"It's alright," Zelda said, waving it off, as he'd hoped she would, "I have to get to class myself. You'll show me some other time?"

He smiled as relief flooded him. "Of course." Hopefully, she'd forget all about it, or at least have a better explanation for the frightening things recorded in a little while.

For now, he had to get back to the Chronicle guys. They'd be in a hurry to act after this.

She was standing on the roof of the Kakariko Civic Centre. It was a flat roof, with a small edge, and it was covered in gravel that crunched under his feet.

Link was nervous. Thoughts of Zelda's safety had plagued him all day, and his heart was in his throat at the sight of her, dressed too lightly for the autumnal weather, standing so near the roof's edge. He'd climbed after her, the tracking made surprisingly easy by the ghost's capacity to open all doors and windows effortlessly. It was almost cocky in its carelessness, and it made Link all the more tense.

He thought he'd seek to hide his presence, but the Poe felt him before he could try.

She turned, unlike herself. Her eyes were orange in the pale glow of the streetlights and traffic below. Wind pulled at her clothes and hair; it whipped around her face like a frightening halo. Her face was casually inexpressive, but he guessed the murderous intents so clearly in her gaze that it made him shudder almost uncontrollably. He considered turning tail and just letting her do her thing, but it was wrong and besides, what could she use on this roof to harm anyone?

For a breathless, horrified moment, Link felt panic grip him. Would the Poe put his threat in motion? Would he make her jump, just to prove he could? He was still too far from her to stop her― he had to get closer. How else was he going to―

"I thought I told you to stay out of my way," the Poe spoke with her voice.

"I think there may have been a misunderstanding," Link said, moving forward, cautiously but steadily, forcing himself to stride with confidence. "I believe I mentioned I'm a stubborn bastard?"

Zelda sighed, but there was no part of her in it. "Boy," she said, her voice deep and rough, "you're going to regret being here tonight."

"You're going to regret being her tonight," Link growled.

It laughed. "I doubt it. Do you know she speaks of you to her family?" It laughed as Link struggled to keep himself from attacking it. "You've made quite the impression. And she's such a pretty girl, it's not like she has no one else paying her respects."

Link fumed, stepping forward as cautiously as he could. He shoved his hands into his pockets, and his fingers closed around the eyeglass. For a moment, he hesitated. He'd seen Poes in their true form before. Sheik's Lens was a surreally efficient device, and it was a really practical advantage, but the spectral things weren't a pretty sight to bear, and he wasn't sure he was that eager to surrender his supper.

Still, he had to know how strong its hold on Zelda was.

He pulled the lens out.

Zelda's face contorted with disgust. "Oh, please. One of those eyeglasses? Where did you get a trinket like that?"

Link braced himself. The violet lens tilted with his every movement, clinking delicately. He looked through it; the purple inside the lens opened in a red slit, like the pupil of a snake, and tiny metal pins unfolded to grip the bridge of his nose and his brow like a metallic spider. He'd teased Sheik of making him look like a bionic robot, but it was a free-hand device, and that was as practical as it got.

As his eye adjusted to the new device, he finally focused on Zelda.

And felt nausea grip him.

She had a dark purple aura so powerful and deep it seemed she was glowing, oozing evil. Thin glowing lines like veins glowed on her skin, almost throbbing. But the most atrocious had to be the chopped up body rising over her like a grotesque puppeteer. A spine with two handless arms, its skin was decomposed, black, green and blue, and a single bright red eye shone where the head should have been, among the remains of a neck and bits of flesh.

"You're no Poe. What the fuck are you?" Link couldn't help but ask, bluntly, disgusted.

Zelda's voice was deep and hoarse. "Beat it, boy, or I'll make you march to the funereal drums."

Link pulled out a throwing knife that Sheik had let him borrow… and hesitated. He was good at throwing knives, but if Zelda moved…

"Can't hurt me, Link?" Zelda asked, softly, her voice sweeter than honey. The underlying mockery grated on his reason; he glowered at the red eye hovering above her. The thing had an advantage; it could use Zelda as his shield, but Link was out in the open. "Scared? I told you to stay out of my way," it mocked.

If he could get closer, Link figured, he might have a better chance of avoiding Zelda and striking straight at the thing―

Pain, raw and savage, slammed him sideways. He fell and braced himself; the sharp rocks of the roof scraped his whole side, tearing at his skin and clothing. He was fortunate that his jeans protected his legs somewhat. He'd merely bruise there; but his hand was a mess. He brought it up for a quick examination, and cringed at the burning ache of torn flesh and slowly oozing blood. His palm wasn't pretty to look at.

He hastily wiped his hands of the excess blood on his pants, hissing at the pain, as his eyes wildly searched for the source of the attack.

A large hand hovered over his head, its nails blackened and chipped.

Like the hands of a man buried alive.

"Fuck―"

It was huge, and it was headed straight for him―

Link's head snapped backwards as he received the up-slap of a lifetime. His whole body shuddered and crumpled on the painful gravel. He groaned, tears of shock coming to his eyes, and he protected his skull as he struggled to regain his composure.

The hand was relentless. It punched him again, and Link grunted, bracing his flank in agony.

"How about a soothing tempo, boy?" Zelda asked in that voice that wasn't hers.

The hand began hammering his back relentlessly, beating so powerfully he thought his spine would give way.

Link rolled away, and pushed himself up― only to cry out as his torn hand hit more rocks. Still, he ran some distance away, to get his bearings. What was he going to do? He hadn't expected this. This ghost thing was more than a Poe; he wouldn't be able to destroy it by conventional means.

He glanced up at Zelda. She was slowly moving backwards, towards the edge of the roof, so close he was afraid she'd jump. The shadow beast was still pulling at her, caressing her golden hair like that of a favoured pet.

Between Link and Zelda, the hand, fisting and relaxing, its knuckles white, its nails gruesome, almost daring him to approach.

"Would you like her to jump, boy?" The thing asked, and Link saw Zelda bring her foot up to the edge, like she was sleepwalking. His heart jumped in his throat, and he ignored the hand, running forward.

The emaciated thing didn't hesitate; it grabbed Link by the neck and tightened. He choked, stabbing at it with the knife long enough to have it release him. Still he ran. What was he to do? Zelda was too high up to survive.

Something was wrong. The gravel at his feet was gathering at Zelda's feet, being pushed by another disembodied hand. While one of the pair harassed him, the other was busy gathering the rocks near Zelda, close to the roof's edge. It was scraping all of it off the roof, baring the surface, and Zelda stood passively next to the rising pile.

Oh gods.

Link lunged. So did the hands, and they grabbed his clothes.

His whole strength was pushed towards getting a hold of Zelda; rocks were beginning to float around them, sharp and dangerous, like a hailstorm waiting to happen. He stabbed a hand, stabbed the other, he struggled to reach Zelda.

The beast over her growled, and Zelda snarled. Still, Link made it close enough that he could grab her by the waist. She fought him as he pulled her down to the roof's surface and covered her as well as he could, his bloodied hand slippery on her bare arm. Around them, the rocks were floating silently, agitated, and Link buried Zelda's furious face in his neck. Overhead, the hands were picking up rocks, and the shadow beast was glowing furiously.

The gravel gathered into a mountain that pulsed and scraped his exposed body; still Link struggled to stay put. Zelda bit him. He cried out in pain, but didn't let her go, even as she punched and kicked him everywhere she could reach.

Above them, the gravel was like a tidal wave, grumbling and crunching. Link held Zelda down, and closed his eyes.

"… He's here," she hoarsely said, in a trance.

What? Link glanced up at the shadow beast that still floated over them. It wasn't looking at them; it was looking over the edge of the roof, and its eye glowed a furious red.

The mountain of rocks rumbled, then exploded. Link held down a scream.

DEATH BLAMED ON KAKARIKO GHOST
Thursday, October 30th, Kakariko ―The body of Zant Grim was found early this morning crushed under a surprisingly large pile of gravel. The gravel, which was used as covering for the flat-roofed Kakariko Civic Centre, had been completely raked off the roof and pushed over the side, right on top of Grim. Unable to explain such a phenomenon ―the security team claims not to have heard a single sound, let alone the loud scrape of gravel being dragged, while coroners can't explain that such a large pile of rocks could possibly be pushed over the roof side all at once.
"It'd take strength achieved only by machines, and we can guarantee no such engine was on the roof at the time," Detective Bo Wrestler explained to the press this morning. "The very nature of this death remains a mystery, but we of the police department swear to uncover the truth, whatever it may be."
The possibility of paranormal activity is becoming more and more likely, says―

"Forester." Ralph's tone was dead serious. "I don't know if it's a good idea to trail this Poe after all. He means business."

Link nursed his hand. It would take its sweet time to recover, and he felt incompetent, doing everything one-handed. Still, thinking about the severe cuts and gashes it had received, he felt nauseous. It was in a horrible state, and he preferred to imagine happier things than the gruesome sight of his mangled extension.

"I know. It's dangerous," he muttered. "But if I hadn't been there last night, Zelda would have died."

"Yeah, and I'm sure that if she knew it, she'd be really grateful, but you can't afford to get ripped to pieces just yet. We're going to need you alive and well for tomorrow night."

"I know," Link repeated, annoyed. He was pissed off already, and Ralph wasn't helping.

"Link, man, I'm serious. You should let Sheik look at it."

Sheik sat calmly, watching Link's wounds with concern, but said nothing. Link glanced up at him and shook his head. Sheik sighed.

"We have other priorities. Guys, she's in danger."

"So we gathered," Kafei said grimly.

"Look, I did what I could, but this whole thing isn't working out. Whatever it is haunting her, it's not a Poe."

"It's not?" Ralph tone was incredulous. "Then… what is it?"

"A monster, I think. It can't be anything else. I've never seen a shadow so strong and violent."

"And murderous," Sheik quietly commented, glancing at the Times.

Link opened his mouth to speak, but the door slammed open before he could make a sound. The four young men turned sharply at the intruder, and froze.

Zelda Harkinian, her eyes lined with dark circles, stood in the doorway, looking distraught.

Link stood from the desk where he'd been sitting, and stepped forward―

She crashed into his arms, shaking. "Link," she whimpered, "I don't know what to do!"

Ralph, Sheik and Kafei observed the exchange warily, as Link awkwardly held Zelda, his injured hand held at bay, hopefully out of her sight. Sheik calmly reached for the small metallic crossbow he kept in the desk drawer at all times.

"What's going on?" Link's concern wasn't even feigned. He had felt his heart pull when he'd noticed her fear.

"Can I talk to you alone?" She whispered, looking up into his eyes with the dewy gaze of a frightened child. He licked his lips, his mouth and throat suddenly dry.

"Huh…"

"Link."

Zelda and Link turned, startled, to Kafei. He was watching them with gravity he didn't usually show.

"What?"

Zelda's eyes darted to Sheik, who was casually leaning back, his hands out of sight, his gaze fixed on her like a hunter's. Ralph too was tense, his back ramrod straight, his knuckles white. She gripped Link's shirt tighter.

"I think it's time you exposed the facts," Kafei calmly declared.

"Link," she whispered, looking up at him, "Link, please…" Her imploring tone bordered of hysteria while all the room's occupants stared at her as though she were a threat.

Link took hold of her arm, glared at Kafei, and said, "Come on." He pulled Zelda out of the office.

She was near tears. She pulled up her sleeves and showed him scratches and bruises.

"I was fine when I went to bed last night," she nearly sobbed. "I don't know what's going on—I had blood on my clothes, too. Link, did you do anything when you hypnotized me…" She trailed off, her eyes looking down at his mangled hand.

It was too late for him to hide it. She pulled back, wide-eyed.

"Oh…" she murmured, horrified. "Did… could I… did I do that…? To you?"

Link was at a loss. She stared up at him, tears welling in her eyes as a million horrific scenarios formed in her mind. He had to stop her before she went crazy.

He reached out to steady her with his good hand. "No, you didn't do this to me. I fell on some rocks. Now listen to me, I want you to tell me everything you remember about last night."

Fat tears rolled down her cheeks. "I had a nightmare," she whimpered. "I… Something was laughing inside me, but I was… I think I killed someone."

"In the dream?" Link cautiously asked.

She nodded, then shook her head, then hesitated, then just choked back a sob. "I didn't want to, but it was laughing and…" She looked frightened, horrified. "It was… rejoicing." The last shaky word was uttered so softly he had trouble hearing her. "Like it was some sort of victory. Link, I think this thing inside me is… I know I sound completely crazy. Maybe I am. I just… please, I don't know what to do."

He saw her shudder and reached out to steady her. Once she had composed herself again and looked up, he had made his decision.

"To be honest, Zelda, we're working on a solution right now." And, with a motion of his head, he indicated the office.

For the first time since the start of his investigation, Link felt he could breathe. It had been a long time since he'd last been able to confide in anyone but the boys, and this felt peculiar.

Zelda was staring stonily at his hand. As he'd taken the time to explain what was going on, struggling to make her understand he was saying the truth, she'd carefully cleaned and bandaged it. It wasn't obvious that he was speaking sincerely: if she hadn't had so much physical evidence of his honesty, she could have accused him of making everything up to justify worse deeds.

"I've been hunting Poes with the guys for the past six years," he explained. "We started off with small game: tiny Poes who had messages to deliver to their relatives, and eventually, we started dealing with more than just ghosts: re-dead, stalfos. We had one gibdo, too."

"I take it that dates back to the Gerudo Desert exhibit in Castleton. The historical museum had been closed for a day on account of vandalism…" Her tone was a reprimand, but it only just covered understanding and amusement.

Link regretted not approaching her before. So many opportunities lost… he'd have to make up.

"Yeah, that's the one. We've had our share of the undead, my dear."

"Why don't you advertise, though? You could generate profit off this kind of business."

"And pass off as complete freaks, sure." A smile. He paused, then said, "On another topic, I hope you're aware that the exorcism rituals vary from creature to creature. I'm not quite sure what it is you have inside you, but if our usual methods fail, we might have to resort to… well, more drastic measures."

She sobered up and fought a shudder. "Such as?"

He took a deep breath. "Blood-letting. The heavy kind."

She stared at him, eyes flitting over his face to absorb what he was trying to convey. At length, she said, "And if that doesn't work?"

"It has to work. It's the last step before…" He sighed. "Well, all our sources indicate that the last option to get rid of a shadow is to actually kill its host. And that's not part of my options." His determination worried and comforted her at the same time.

"Link," she said, laying a hand on his shoulder, and he winced ―it was still bruised. "Sorry― Link, if you need to, please, go through with it."

He stared up at her, stunned. "What?"

"I've killed and injured people. Even if they are part of an evil cult, killing is wrong. I'd rather die than let things like that go on." She was calm and serious. She leaned forward to rest her forehead against his. He was soothed and sadly touched. "Please, in the end I want you to consider me a liability. If I turn on you, I'd never forgive myself." Her fingers brushed the bandage on his hand. He picked it with his other hand and gently squeezed her fingers. "I noticed you before, too, you know," she admitted. "I saw your public speeches at the debate club competitions. I like you, and I don't want you to be hurt."

"I'm used to it," he forced a chuckle, but her underlying gravity was making breathing difficult.

"Promise me you won't risk your life anymore."

"Alright," he said, and carefully didn't make any promises at all.

"Sheik suggested I hang these from my window and bedroom door," Zelda finally said, pulling away. She retrieved two eye-shaped spirit catchers from her bag. "They're supposed to prevent an evil spirit from trespassing… in or out. So I won't be hurting anyone tonight," she concluded, turning to him, pretending she wasn't disturbed by the idea.

"That's good," Link commented. "You'll finally get a little rest."

"And tomorrow night, I'll be fit as a fiddle for the… party." She forced a grin.

"You're still not telling me what your disguise will be?"

"No, and don't bother trying to squeeze it out of me."

He squeezed her hand instead. "I'll be at your place tomorrow evening around seven. The boys will be ahead of us, keeping an eye on the cult in the graveyard. I don't want your guest to be in their vicinity before the right time. We've decided to involve the police this time, so timing is essential to avoid any awkward questions."

Her head snapped upwards to look straight at him. "You're involving law enforcement? Why?"

He licked his lips nervously. "This is more than just supernatural business. These are actual living beings and we aren't well placed to punish them for their offences." He checked his watch. "… You have class at noon, right?"

"Yes, in Horon Hall."

He ran a finger against her cheek. "I'll take you there."

He ignored the warmth that spread in him at her smile. She didn't notice the Chronicle boys snickering cheerfully as they walked off.

That night, she didn't notice the man observing the eye-shaped decoration hanging from her window from down in the street, his tall figure draped in an expensive coat and his face indiscernible in the shadows. She didn't notice the way he examined her house, nor the way he walked away with wicked and vengeful understanding.

SOFTWARE MOGUL TAKES VACATION
Friday, October 31st, Castleton ― Ganondorf Dragmire, CEO of Powersoft Corporation, has claimed he would take a vacation this weekend for health reasons, in spite of the fact that his newest OS, Triforce 8.0, is scheduled for official launch on Monday, a release that has been anticipated worldwide for the past two years―

"No ghost news," Ralph cheerfully commented, throwing the Times in the backseat. He turned to his passenger. "No news is good news, right?"

Link was nervous. He picked at the embroidered leather of his light armour, feeling self-conscious. Zelda was taking her time. The plan was to party a few hours until eleven; at which point they'd join the guys in the cemetery for a quick ritual. He didn't like being so close to the evil cult, but the graveyard was the nearest area of consecrated ground, and he needed the beast to surface in its anger. Until then, he forced her to stay awake. And maybe they could have fun too.

Ralph was in jeans and sweater for now; he had packed a magician's costume, just in case, but wasn't expecting to actually attend the party, to his annoyance.

"I can't help but wonder what she sees in you, man," Ralph commented. "I mean, don't get me wrong. You're easy enough on the eyes, but really. Kafei is more her type."

"Thanks, Ralph." Link absently scanned the house.

"Ah, there she comes," Ralph commented with satisfaction.

Instantly, Link turned to look at the front door as it swung open.

"… Holy shit."

Link would have echoed the sentiment if he had been able to speak without embarrassing himself.

Her hair was pulled up in a bun from which strands fell in disarray. She wore a bright red scarf around her neck and another as a belt. Her loose tan pants stopped mid-calf, and her long lightly tanned legs ended with her feet covered in elegant leather sandals. A cotton shirt covered with a richly embroidered vest outlined her bosom without flaunting it. Her overcoat was long-sleeved, typical of a pirate captain, with large brass buttons and a deep red colour just to tease.

"That's the hottest pirate I've ever seen," Ralph declared. "You might want to just stay home and swab her deck."

The suggestion fell on deaf ears. Link stepped out of the car. Zelda paused, smiling at his costume. He was striking, and the flexible dark leather armour seemed made for his frame, outlining his lean muscles and making him seem taller than he already was. He had a few metal pieces, but they were more for decoration. He kept his sword at his belt, also for decoration. As dark as its history was said to be, the knuckle armour was elegant and becoming.

"I guess we couldn't pull the gross vomit look," Zelda commented, amused.

"You look really good," he said, only because he was afraid of what she'd say if he used the adjectives 'fantastic', 'amazing' or 'beautiful' instead. "Where did you get it?"

"Old thing," she shrugged. "Family property."

He was still struggling to regain his senses. He could only utter "Wow."

"So they're at Moe's?" Kafei inquired when Ralph reached them at the shrine's entrance. It was an antechamber in the cliff at the far end of the cemetery, invisible unless you knew it was there.

"Yeah. You should have seen them. They sat in the backseat all along, and though they were talking the whole drive you could swear they weren't breathing right." As he stepped forward casually, Ralph shuddered, then smiled and said, "He better make a move soon, though. She's hot."

"I think they have other priorities right now," Sheik softly commented. "The party is only their alibi once the police starts investigating."

"Yeah, whatever," Ralph grumbled. "Hey, I know I've been in dark and creepy places," he said, his voice an odd sound in the still, damp air, "but I've rarely been so… bothered."

"There's a distinct aura of evil here," Sheik agreed. "Not quite like a menace, but more like… anger."

"Do you think it has to do with this?" Kafei sardonically inquired, motioning to the massive black hooded statue towering over them, holding a sickle. Its eyes, in the undefined dark of its hood, were two red rubies. The silent and ominous presence was that of an evil guardian.

"No," Ralph replied, his voice slightly higher pitched than usual. "I think it's more about that forgotten guillotine there."

They turned to eye the execution tool gleaming dimly in the half-light. Its edges were rusty and grimy, but there was no doubt that it had taken lives in another time.

"Awkwaaard…" Ralph squeaked, but his comment drew their attention, with a smile, back to more important matters.

"So," Sheik said, with a breath that evaporated into a pale cloud, "do we have everything?"

"I don't know," Kafei mumbled, taking his hands out of his pockets and rubbing them together. "Let's start with the essentials… Candles?"

"Check, though why we have to use candles instead of the modern flashlight, I'll never know," Ralph grumbled.

"Chalk?" Kafei continued, turning to Sheik expectantly.

"Check, and in the even of a more tenacious foe, cuckoo blood, check."

"Good man. Purple string?"

"It wasn't embarrassing to buy in the least," Ralph sarcastically commented, but he showed them the spool.

"Ceremonial knife?"

Sheik motioned with a hand. Ralph and Kafei shifted their weight on their feet at the blonde's dark look. Check.

"You don't think we'll actually have to… bleed her, right?"

"Hopefully we'll manage to weaken the beast enough that just a few drops of her blood will suffice," Kafei tensely replied. "I'm hoping that things don't go that far. I don't think Link quite realises how dangerously close to sacrifice the ritual happens to be."

There was tense pause, and then Sheik said, "We have work to do, right?"

Zelda was gone.

Link tried not to panic. She had excused herself ten minutes ago with the promise that she'd be back within two. Maybe someone had recognized her and they were catching up.

He ignored the feeling of jealousy at the idea of a guy catching up with her. Sure, she wasn't his to begin with, but he felt possessive nonetheless. And she was hot tonight, too. He almost regretted that. How was he supposed to stay focused on things when she was that attractive and when she dragged him to the dance floor for a little bit of close contact?

First off, no man had a strong enough will to make it through with his sanity intact. Secondly, so many guys had tried to get her for themselves that Link was now a master of the 'evil predatory growl'. No other girl had gotten that kind of result before. He felt oddly warm.

But now she was gone. Completely.

"Liiiiink!"

Malon. He turned to look at Zelda's best friend as the inebriated redhead swayed on her feet cheerfully, avoiding the groping hands of those who considered she was a very pretty maid. He reached out to steady her before she fell face-forward, and took a second to glare at another drunk groper who backed off.

"Liiiink, oh gods I'm soooo glad to see yooouu! How've you been??"

"Malon―" The crunch of the crowd made it hard for him to stay upright, especially with a drunk girl holding on to him. "Malon, have you seen Zelda?"

"Zelda? Nooope I can't see her. She left a few minutes ago with this totally hot guy― all tanned and sexy… like youuu…" Ignoring his shock and panic, she brought herself upward on her toes and planted a big wet kiss on his lips. He grabbed her shoulders and pushed her away, but didn't let go else she'd fall backwards. Her legs were like jelly. Then, with a cheerful giggle, she added, "You look dashing tonight, darliiiing! We should make out sometime, reeeeaaally…!"

"Right. Malon, do you know anyone trustworthy here? You should go see them."

"Uuummm there's― oh there she is! Anju! Anjuuuuu!"

She stumbled out of his grasp and pushed her way through the crowd. Well. Okay. That took care of that.

… Fuck. Zelda was gone. With another guy. She hadn't warned him. She knew it was crucial they stay together.

Something had gone horribly wrong.

The smell of melting wax was what made her wake up. She always associated the smell with birthdays, somehow. But there was no laughter, just the sound of water droplets echoing around in a sort of cavern.

The second thing she noticed was that she was bound. It took her a moment to gather that she was sitting on a chair, and that her hands and feet were tied to it. She had nothing covering her mouth, but her throat was dry.

Panic filled her. Where was she? What was going on?

Her eyes opened; the flicker of candles in a circle of chalk around her cast frightening shadows on the walls. Somewhere behind her, she could hear bits of conversation, but nothing clear: sounds were distorted and distant.

Footfalls. She craned her neck, but it ached and she soon stopped. No point getting a crick there if she had to run for her life. Instead, she strained her ears. These weren't familiar footsteps. They were heavier than Link's, and she was pretty sure Link didn't smell like Deku incense.

She almost leaped when the footsteps stopped right behind her and a dozen of shadows were cast on the walls. A finger, large and rough, ran up her neck and to her ear. She strained to hold in her frightened whimper.

"You're back to your true self, then?" The voice was deep and not comforting in the least.

Shaking, she managed to say, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Then, he showed himself.

He was tall, very tall, and somewhat handsome, in a dark way. His olive skin and bright hair were becoming… but the look in his eyes wasn't.

"Your name."

She shook her head, tears coming to her eyes.

He slapped her. It stung and her head snapped to the side.

At this, she began to sob. "What do you want with me?"

"I asked you a question, little bitch. Answer me. What's your name?"

"Zelda! Zelda Harkinian!" She cried, looking for an exit. "What do you want with me??"

He picked her chin with two large fingers, and she shuddered. He stared at her with false gentleness. "There's something inside you that I want to talk to. It took me a while to find you, but now I know. It's inside you, and I want it to come out. You hear me, Bongo Bongo? Come on out!"

She passed out so suddenly it was unnatural.

When she came to again, she was still tied to the chair, but this time, she was surrounded by figures in black robes. She didn't recognize any of them except the one she'd seen before losing consciousness. He was leading the group into a chant of deep guttural sounds that felt so evil she had to fight the urge to scream.

More alert than she'd been before, her eyes darted over the many candles, the odd drawing on the ground, and the designs of red string tying the candles together. It seemed vaguely like the ritual Link and Kafei had described, but weren't they going to use purple string?

"In the name of our god," they started chanting, and she fixed her attention on them again, "we call for vengeance!"

Vengeance? What? That couldn't be good.

The man leading them stepped forward, and for the first time since she'd awakened, she noticed the metallic gleam in his hand. She began to fight her bonds.

"No," she cried. "No, don't you dare! Don't you dare!"

The blade moved closer still. Zelda fought to stand from the chair, but her feet were well tied. She couldn't do it; her weight was fixed solidly and she couldn't move her centre of gravity.

"By the power of my call," the man said, raising the knife to her throat, "We set the demon free!"

"Demon free," the group echoed darkly.

The blade cut at the junction of her shoulder and neck. She screamed, sobbing, and tried to pull away.

The man grabbed her head firmly and growled in her face, "You'll pursue us no more, monster! And if you think you'll soften us by using her tender wiles, know that once you're dead, I'll use her until she dies too."

She wept, the warm blood oozing from her shoulder. It ached and she couldn't move without a sharp jab of pain piercing her.

"Look at me, girl!"

She tearfully looked into the man's golden eyes. He smirked.

"I hope you don't mind my saying, but that's a pretty costume…"

She spat in his face.

A slap.

A scream… but it wasn't her own. When she opened her eyes again, the man was lying on the ground, writhing. He'd knocked candles over. The robed figures panicked. Some surged forward to pull her away, others ran.

All she could see, though, was the fury on Link's face. Dressed in his costume armour, he was like a vengeful figure of the past, and he was there to help her. She was both terrified and relieved.

Behind him, Sheik had picked up another rock and was preparing to throw it, when he paused. At his side, Kafei frowned, stunned.

"Ganondorf Dragmire?"

She looked back at the man on the ground as he pulled himself to his feet again. That was Dragmire? What?

Ralph ran up behind them. Apparently, the exit was on a ledge she hadn't noticed. "Cops are coming! Come on, we have to hurry!"

"You little bitch―" Ganondorf Dragmire grunted, reaching for her bleeding shoulder. "I'm going to make that Bongo Bongo drop you like a rat's carcass―"

"Thanks," Link said, jumping down and running over. "We've got it covered."

And with that, he punched Ganondorf Dragmire, CEO of Powersoft, in the face.

If she hadn't been in so much pain and distress, she'd have been awed.

Instead, she fainted again.

So far, things weren't going as planned. The cult had somehow figured out that Zelda was the host of the beast trying to kill them off one by one. They'd kidnapped her. As soon as the boys had realised all their efforts to organise their own exorcism were now pointless, they'd allowed the cult to attempt the bloodletting... in the hopes that maybe it would, in fact, drive the shadow out.

It didn't. There were no other options, it seemed, to rid Zelda of her occupant.

Meanwhile, they'd called the cops, because they would need backup to help Zelda out, especially if, as she just had, she fell prey to possession again. Aside from that, Ganondorf Dragmire had recovered enough to beat him to a pulp.

Link saw his hopes melt away. Something had gone wrong and they were all fucked.

More punching. Gods. He'd be so bruised tomorrow morning. Even his hand wasn't fully recovered. He was favouring it, and so he was weaker. Dragmire ―seriously, what was he doing here?― was relentless in his attacks now.

Link glanced at Sheik. He was speaking to Zelda with the eyeglass, but she wasn't responding. Instead, it seemed she had fallen into trance again. The ghost Ganondorf Dragmire called 'Bongo Bongo' was haunting her eyes. Kafei and Ralph, on their part, were preventing other cult followers from charging them. In the chaos, he didn't notice when Dragmire pulled out a sceptre made of bones. He only had time to realise it was headed straight for his skull, and he brought his hands up to protect himself.

Zelda began to breathe heavily, and Sheik backed away, seeing something with the Eye of Truth the others could not perceive.

The blow made Link stumble backwards. He hit the cave wall. No escape.

"Guys, we can't do this! We have to leave!" Ralph shouted. "We have to go!"

Dragmire charged.

"Stop."

The voice echoed throughout the cave with such strength that Ganondorf Dragmire himself hesitated. Zelda's chair was hovering. Sheik was backing up away from her.

"What kind of devilry―"

Link looked up. The cops had just arrived, and were surveying the scene with incredulity and confusion: the hovering hostage in a trance, the candles, the people in robes, the boy dressed in leather armour fighting the Powersoft mogul…

And the same echoing voice continued. It was Zelda.

"Stop, you pathetic creatures. I see now you have not changed in a hundred years. Your quest for power will destroy you and those around you."

"What the heck is going on?" Inspector Viscen of the Kakariko Police asked.

"I will crush you, Cult of Shadows, for the crimes you've laid before me!"

Sheik ducked. Instinctively, so did Link, Kafei and Ralph. All the others were knocked over and slammed into the cave walls.

Ganondorf Dragmire was red with rage.

"That little bitch!"

Before Link could do anything, the cult leader had raised his bone sceptre and was running towards Zelda, ready to stab her with all his strength.

"No!"

Zelda barely twitched. Hot blood splattered on her face, covered her clothes.

Viscen and his men shouted commands nobody listened to.

The people of the cult cowered against the wall.

Ralph, Kafei and Sheik tried to stand, helpless, stunned.

Link's face was contorted in pain as he pulled…

And Ganondorf Dragmire collapsed. His blood gleamed on Link's sword as the young man retrieved his weapon. The blood had burst forth at first, but now it merely flowed steadily. It was a serious wound, but nothing threatening for now, hopefully. He couldn't afford the lawsuit.

The ghost called Bongo Bongo spoke through Zelda's lips: "You saved me."

"I saved her, not you," Link growled, breathless, his whole body aching.

"Why?"

The question was so stupid, Link glared. "I'll let you think about it."

A moment passed where the cops jumped down into the cave to take hold of Dragmire, his followers, and the boys.

The chair dropped.

A cop reached out to grab Link's arms. He didn't fight back.

"You must defend those who need you," the shadow said in Zelda's voice. "You did not save me, but it isn't too late. You must save others."

"From you?" Link shouted as he was dragged away. Cops approached the chair, ready to detach her. She ignored them.

"I have erred. You will not see me again."

And, just like that, Zelda awoke.

DRAGMIRE ARRESTED FOR KIDNAPPING AND ATTEMPTED MURDER!
Saturday, November 1, Kakariko ― A few mere hours after the beginning of his vacation, Ganondorf Dragmire, of Powersoft Corp., was already up to no good. Arrested late last night on accounts of kidnapping a local student, he was discovered in a shrine, with his followers, performing ritual acts of bloodletting and sacrifice on his victim.
While the victim, whose name has been omitted for privacy reasons, is now in a stable condition, Dragmire was severely wounded by the victim's friends, who barged in to save him/her from almost certain death.
"I saw things tonight I didn't except to see in my lifetime," Inspector Viscen of the Kakariko police confided early this morning. "All I can say is that we don't need paranormal ghosts to explain things when monstrous behaviour like that one exists on this earth."
Dragmire is scheduled to appear in court, along with all his accomplices, as soon as he recovers sufficiently, which may―

"Not a word on the ghost," Ralph happily noted, but nobody listened to him. Kafei was busy answering awkward questions by sudden Chronicle fans who'd gotten wind of their involvement in the news and now swarmed in front of their door. Sheik, on his part, had retreated to the back of the office and had buried his nose in a book and covered his ears with large phones, to be sure not to connect with reality.

Link wasn't in yet. They didn't expect him.

Ralph smirked and put the newspaper in the recycling bin.

"Oh my," Zelda gasped. "Link, you shouldn't have."

He put the flowers down and sat at her bedside. The hospital was busy, but he was calm. "I felt like it. Hope you like them. I wanted to buy red, but they didn't have any. Apparently red flowers are rare at this time of year. How would you like chocolate instead?"

She stifled a laugh; it hurt her shoulder when she giggled. He picked her hand up and stroked the back of it absently.

"I think the best gift you could do would be to let the doctors take care of you."

"Nonsense, I'm fine," he said, cheerfully. "Here, I brought you the book I told you about…" He pulled out a leather bound edition that made her smile more than the flowers did. "It's not complete, but it's our prime reference."

She reached out to stroke its cover happily, then cracked it open to flip through it. "Where did you find it?"

"In an antique bookstore in Old Kakariko, back in eighth grade."

"It's amazing… Huh. Wait, an eighth-grade boy entering a bookstore?" She eyed him sceptically.

He shrugged and smirked. "I'm bookish too, you know."

There was a pregnant pause. She observed him, detailing his features.

And then, she reached out with her safe arm and pulled him in gently but firmly.

His lips were soft and warm, and she could feel them smiling. He let her attack his mouth with the casual deference of a man who had no qualms whatsoever about his enslaved situation, and who didn't care how many hours passed.

She moved away from him, light-headed, and he smiled.

"You're going to remember this one, then?"

She blinked.

"What?"

He grinned and leaned forward, "Never mind." … And captured her lips again.

I'm tired now. I'll go rest some more. Please leave a review if you haven't forgotten me, and remember I'll be back to correct and improve it after Halloween has passed. :)

Love,
CM