The wind was strong this day. A lone figure shrugged against its warm, fleeting embrace as he looked out onto the waters of Lake Hylia. Something was different about this day, something… cruel.

The sun hung overhead as it had many thousands of days in this land, casting its light into the waters, filling the lake with divine refractions that played across the boy's face as he crouched upon the rocky beach at the east end of the lake. Lake Hylia was not popular among travelers, for it had no sand beaches, just rocky crags and platforms of mud that seemed to stick out haphazardly. The sky was always beautiful, even when it rained, but down below on the beaches was where the boy found comfort.

Today, the boy felt strangely empty. Staring at his reflection in the crystal blue waters, he couldn't help but notice that he had changed over the years. His deep blue eyes seemed tired, the courageous expression gone from them. His dirty blonde hair, even mostly covered by the long Hylian cap he wore, seemed bereft of luster. Even his pointed Hylian ears drooped, his angular eyebrows sagging with the weight of his dismay. What he felt… there were no words for it; for him, there were never words. His life had been filled with selfless deeds, true, but he had always been out of place. The first home he remembered had been among the Kokiri, a tribe of children who were protected by the Great Deku Tree, and who never reached adulthood. It was both a gift and a curse for them, for they were blessed with inhumanly long lives, but they were always children. They accrued wisdom in the same fashion as other races, but their eternally sleight physical stature made application of some of the lore impossible.

Link's first real sadness had taken place several years ago. A powerful sorcerer named Ganondorf had aspired to steal the Triforce, the Golden Power of the Sacred Realm. The Great Deku Tree had chosen Link to undertake the task of stopping the wizard, telling him that he was chosen by the Goddesses themselves. Upon pulling the Master Sword, the Blade of Evil's Bane, from its pedestal in the Temple of Time, he had been imprisoned there for seven years, frozen in time until the sword had deemed him fit enough to wield it. Ganondorf had already made off with the Golden Power, and Link was eventually forced to pursue him. But upon returning to the Kokiri Forest, he found that no one recognized him; he had grown, and therefore was not truly Kokiri. The Great Deku Tree had revealed to him his ancestry after he'd inquired, and he had discovered that he was truly Hylian, like Princess Zelda.

Against the wind, which had suddenly become harsh, Link grimaced. Zelda had been his greatest sadness, greater than that of losing the mother he had never known, the mother that had smuggled him into the Kokiri forest and away from the forces of evil. Evil could only harm him, could only kill him.

Zelda had broken him.

Even now, he recalled the joy he'd felt upon meeting her, the inherent sense of destiny about the two of them, and the fact that he'd been positively enthralled by it. Her beautiful face, both as a child and an adult, her kind laughter and wise decisions, the way she had looked into his eyes…

He ruthlessly batted away a tear he'd not noticed, fixing his expression in a stoic mask of bravery. He'd faced countless monsters, both horrific and enrapturing, and none of them had affected him like this.

Upon defeating Ganondorf, he'd had to return the Master Sword to its pedestal, thus reversing time and sending him back to the world of the Kokiri. He had grown and aged normally, while they remained children. Eventually, he was outcast, and had made his home in Lake Hylia as the land changed over the years. Alas, it hadn't been the land alone that had endured change. Change was a precursor; it brought salvation and destruction, hope and despair, life and death. And one never knew which would follow until it was too late.

He turned to the sunrise, silent. The pain within him ebbed, fading into calm. There was something wrong about this day, and dwelling on his own memories had distracted him. There was something to be done.

The walls of the stony cliffs that surrounded the lake had been polished by spray from the lake during storms and the rain that had caused them, smoothing the walls to something resembling abalone shell. As Link trudged through the mud, he allowed himself to marvel at their beauty. The way the sunlight reflected off the walls, sending rainbows cascading down into the lake reminded him of the way her eyes looked when… He shook his head, fixing his eyes straight ahead. There was something to be done.

The green tunic he wore, the so-called Hero's Garb, still fit well, as if it were made for him. It had come with the Hylian cap he'd become accustomed to wearing, and he'd adopted the practice of wearing simple, yet durable knee-high boots with white pants tucked into them. His Gauntlets, however, were a different story. Golden in color, they allowed him to lift objects of massive size and weight. He'd acquired them accidentally during one of his visits to Ganondorf. In his pack were their silver counterparts, which could lift large boulders, but that was nothing compared to the giant pillars the Golden Gauntlets could heave aside. He had several things in his pack, which was also a gift. The pack itself could be shrunk down to the size of a coin purse at will, no matter what was inside, and he made full use of that ability.

When at last he climbed out of the chasm, he immediately recognized the source of the trouble. Kakariko Village, nestled into the base of Death Mountain, had been a haven for him at one point. Now even they had forsaken him. There was smoke rising from the area where the village was situated, and it wasn't smoke from the dormant volcano. Normally, the boy would have ridden full speed, fear for the citizens in his heart, but now he felt so empty, so… tired. He had no motivation now. No purpose. No goal. Now that she… no. These people could not suffer for the pain of his past. It was not their fault. Steeling himself, he whistled to his horse, Akrir. Epona had been taken from him, along with the Master Sword, the Ocarina of Time, and all of the things that had belonged to the royal family. Epona hadn't been the property of the royal family, but her owner, Malon, was a loyal subject and citizen, and so followed the Princess's orders.

Akrir appeared beside him, seemingly materializing out of thin air. The black-and-brown stallion had a penchant for mischief, and so was extremely sneaky. The horse loved to scare people, and Link was one of his favorite targets. Akrir was one of the only beings that could lift Link's sullen mood.

Grinning, he patted Akrir's nose. The two never needed speech to convey their feelings. Akrir knew he'd failed to surprise Link, but the boy always found the effort amusing. And the occasional startle was well worth all of the failures. In return for the amusement on the horse's part, the exchanges taught Link spatial awareness; thanks to Akrir, he could feel when something – or someone – was within a few feet of him. He'd never been this close to Epona, never shared the sort of friendship he had with Akrir. So maybe he'd come out on top after all.

On top of being an amusing partner, Akrir was also a much faster mount than Epona. The landscape passed by in a blur as the horse sped on, arriving at the gates to Kakariko in less than half an hour. Akrir also had incredible stamina compared to Epona. True, the other horse had a much better horizontal leap, but Akrir more than made up for it; instead of hopping a gap, the mischievous horse would instead lurch to a stop, throwing Link over it. It wasn't always pleasant for the former hero, but the horse always got an amused whicker out of the boy's less-than-graceful landings.

Link was prepared this time, bracing himself for Akrir's unceremonious way of helping him clear obstacles. As they reached the gate, the horse launched him, snorting disgustedly when he landed on his feet on the other side. The boy signaled to the horse, and Akrir gave a long, low whicker, almost a human grumble, as he plodded off.

The once-hero checked his armaments; protruding over his left shoulder was the hilt of Ragnarok, a broadsword he'd been given by the spirit Lanayru. It wasn't as light or physically powerful as the Master Sword, and possessed a different kind of magic, but it was a very trusty blade nonetheless. A Hylian shield hung on a hook in Ragnarok's scabbard; it was the one thing bearing the royal crest that he'd been allowed to keep. He had taken to wearing a short, curved foreign blade at his waist, horizontally and situated for right-hand draw. It was a very good surprise weapon, and easy to defend with in case his shield was unavailable.

His eyes were drawn to the town, engulfed in black fire. Where he had expected panic, there was only silence, much like his own demeanor. Like Lake Hylia, Kakariko Village was nestled into a gorge, but with gaps in the northwest and southwest walls. The gates made their appearances there, and were the only humanly accessible ways into the town. That was where the similarity ended, however. The cliffs here, unlike at the lake, were a dusty orange, the color of thirst and desolation. Link had always remembered it as a happy town, the ladders and rope bridges spanning the gorge always busy and cheerful. Now the houses and hillside huts burned desolately, ruefully accepting their fate as the hero's eyes passed them. There was no life here. Not even Cuccos squawked. He climbed a ladder, the heavy, silent feeling of death weighing him down as he cautiously traversed the catwalks that crisscrossed the settlement. Link had armed his shield and loosened Ragnarok in its sheath; he did not like this feeling.

A series of snaps caught his sensitive Hylian ears, and his head jerked up in time to see that the ropes of the catwalk had been severed; he barely had time to catch a rope of the bridge in his left hand as the contraption plummeted downward. With a sudden, sickening wrench, the bridge stopped falling and swung. Link had never been afraid of heights; truth be told, he had never been afraid of anything concerning his own safety. He knew that timing was key, and that there were few places in this rocky settlement on which he could land unharmed. Eyes catching a hay bale, the hero swung once more and released his grip. He could feel the air rushing upward faster as his descent quickened, making his vision blur with tears. Blinking them away, he contacted the bale, crashing downward through it, rolling on his shield and hopping out of the bale to face the destroyed bridge. A pain in his right ankle told him he'd twisted it, but he didn't care. He was at the north end of the settlement, facing south with the cliff to his back. Up at the top of the precipice he was staring at, there was a face.

The commander screeched, and all of the monsters took the cue. Stalfos, Soldiers, and Darknuts rose up around the tops of the cliffs, surrounding the boy in green. He was dangerous, they knew, and had to be dealt with swiftly. Their masters had worked together to plan this trap, and would not be pleased if they failed. Another screech, and orders in a harsh, guttural tongue, and they leapt from their positions. The boy had been marked for death, and they were to make it so.

Notes from HylianShield: And so it begins... Fair warning, my friend. If you don't like combat in a fanfiction, you're reading the wrong story. I absolutely LOVE writing combat scenes, as you'll no doubt discover soon... SO TURN THE PAGE AND LET THE BUTT WHIPPING BEGIN!