Hey guys. I wrote this the other day. Felt like publishing it... please, tell me what you think...

I never thought it would end this way.

Never thought it would happen to me. I wonder... did it hurt? Darkness swirls around the edges of my vision, eating away at the last vestiges of consciousness. I coughed, something warm spitting from deep within my stomach, burning my throat as it forces passage. Well, this part hurt at least.

Never thought that it would be me here. I am all powerful. I am invincible. I cannot die. Yet... as the ice-cold steel burns my body, I realize the truth. I am not invincible. That much is plain. I can see him, all of him, face determined and harsh. I wonder... did he care? No. I was a monster, after all.

Never thought that it would end like this. I was so cocky... so sure of my strengths. I was a god, after all... but that title did not help me from the god-slayer. The Chosen One of the godessess themselves. I was sure that the boy would fall long before this. Fall to the darkness plaguing the land. Fall to me. But he did not. And so, as the boy invaded my home, I made myself ready. And yet I was bested. Bested by a boy. What would my old master say? Probably something about irony.

Powers of light... why have you forsaken me? I... I was your Chosen! That's... you told me that yourself! So... so why have you sent your own against me? Could it... could it be that I was but a mistake? A mistake, never intended to be? My stomach clenches, and I force back the burning feeling in my eyes and throat. Never show weakness. Yet... was dying before an enemy not weakness?

It would not end like this. I grit my teeth, and brace myself up on the cold marble floor. The boy watches me curiously, wondering why I have not yet fallen forever to the Void. I force one knee up, and push myself up. Pain flared in my stomach where the cursed sword still rested, but I defied it as I straightened, refusing to grimace at the agony. I spit blood from my mouth, and grab the sword enlodged in me. Fighting back a scream, I slowly pull it out of me, feeling it slide against my insides, creating new tears and rips within me. Blood wells in my body, but I ignore it, casting the blade to one side. I would not fall.

The boy stares at me, still with that same curious look. Fool... did he not consider me a threat? An enemy to be feared? I would teach him the errors of his ways. The wind dances around me, caressing me with its smooth hands, embracing me in its freedom. I draw on its power, breathing in deep breaths of the moonlit air. White light winds around my form, twisting along my arms and gathering at my hands.

I glare at Farore's Chosen. "I don't fall that easily," I rasp. The energy at my fingers begins to hum from the concentration of power in such a small area, and I take one final look at the intruder. "Time to die." I strike out with my hand, and the light coiled at my fingertips sped at the boy, vulnerable without his precious weapon. Or so I thought.

With a smooth, practiced motion, the green-clad child reaches behind him and draws out a red-rimmed mirrored shield. It's surface glints in the moonlight, and stars reflect off its polished coat. The light I threw at him collides with it's mirrored form and immediately is deflected back at me. Before I even have time to gasp, the reflected light strikes its new target.

Can't scream. Can't breathe. Only pain. It felt like the time I had foolishly flew in a thunderstorm and was used as the gods' target practice. Except this went deeper. The light cut through my frail, broken body straight into my very soul, searing me with blinding, white hot pain. My head is thrown back, and my spine arches as the power electrifies my being.

Was this what it felt like? All those people I had hurt. Was this the last thing they felt? Unimaginable pain? Was that all I ever made? Pain?

I fall to the ground, finally free of the fiery shafts of innocent seeming light. The marble floor strikes my face, and I hear a loud crack! as my nose collides with the cold white surface. As if enough of me isn't broken already.

My head is spinning. Thoughts seem to be slowing, vision blurring together. Breathing is hard, each intake of the night air twists the metaphorical dagger in my gut, sending me to new heights of pain.

It will not end this way. I cannot fall. I will not! I push myself to my knees, my arms shaking violently. I lift my head up to glare at the child. What I see sends a red-hot fury into my head. My pounding heart seems to miss a beat in disbelief, then speeds back up in anger.

The boy is smirking. Smirking! At me! The nerve! Red lips pulled back in an arrogant grin that sends a shadow across his so-called innocent white face. Blue eyes observe me, entertained as I struggle to stand. Eyes that laugh as I fail in my efforts, collapsing again to the rooftop.

This... this boy. He... he just waltzes into my palace, my home, and strikes me down? With 'nary a scratch on him to show for our duel? How can this be? How...

I wince. Something warm and wet is covering my hands. I look down slowly, and see trembling hands covering an area of my shirt that oozed forth far too much red, viscous fluid for my liking. Seeing the wound brought all the suppressed pain from the stab-fest flying back.

This time, as I hit the floor, I don't rise.

I look to my left, away from the 'Hero.' Across the rooftop of my home lay a still, prone figure. Shadow... my servant, my ally... my friend... He had tried to protect me, and payed the price. Wet liquid welled up in my eyes at the sight of his body, so normally full of life and laughter, lying so still, and so empty.

I bit back a sob. The boy didn't care. Didn't care about who he had taken from the world. It was just another enemy to him; a faceless, soulless monster from Hell to vanquish. Shadow was anything but. We first met in the Dark World, of course. I had been wandering the worlds aimlessly, lost in my own misery, when I found him. I guess it's more accurate to say that he found me. His antics, along with his attitude, lifted me out of my depression. I didn't want to leave him behind. I offered him a job, and he accepted. The Light World was strange and intimidating to him, alien as it was. In fact, we quickly learned that while Shadow's powers were unique and stronger in this realm, he was also much, much more vulnerable. A berserker warrior had proved that, one day at the beach. After being nearly killed by the combination of light and a seven foot long sword, he'd been a touch more wary of life as a Light world denizen. I managed to convince him that as long as he was with me, he'd be okay. After all; I'm the world's strongest Sorcerer. Who wouldn't be safe as my minion? But no, that wasn't right. He wasn't just my minion. He was my friend. Heck, he was my only friend. Being a villain doesn't exactly score you points with the girls. Well... that wasn't completely true. But I digress. We've been staying at the Palace ever since; flirting with mortal girls, scaring their boyfriends, stampeding buffalo into unsuspecting cities, normal stuff. Until he came.

The loud screeching sound of scraping steel reaches my ears, and his footfalls, loud and sharp against the marble, approach me slowly. The boy had reclaimed his sword. And judging by the sounds of the footsteps, he was coming for me. Probably wondering whether I was dead yet. I eye the darkness encroaching on my field of vision. Shouldn't have to wait much longer.

I close my eyes. I don't want to see him; don't want to see the shining blade swing down towards me; don't want to see Shadow's prone form; don't want to see anything.

But I do see. Memories flood into me, eager to claim the honor of being the last thing that I ever see.

The boy raises his hand, effortlessly casting blades of air into a stone effigy set up at the other end of the courtyard. The boy smirks. Bulls-eye. As usual.

"Nice," says a voice behind him, and the boy turns to see another lounging on the balcony overlooking Hyrule from several thousand feet up. "Now why don't you try something a little more difficult?" He raised his eyebrows challengingly. They both knew what he was talking about. That was apparent in the boy's tense shoulders, his clenched teeth, and his narrowed eyes.

The boy grits his teeth. "I can't."

The other rolls his eyes. "Why ever not?"

"Because. The wind's not right." The boy says, shiftily glancing at the stone floor.

The other tutts. "Excuses, excuses. C'mon, 'Master,' let's see you fly."

The boy chews his lip. "Promise you won't laugh."

The other smirks. "Would I do that?"

"Yes."

"True. I promise not to, though. This time."

"Hm," the boy grunts, raising his arms, "that's reassuring."

The other does not respond, watching the boy concentrate.

The boy closes his eyes, and finds his center. He would get it this time. He would fly. It was more than just propelling himself with air; that was clumsy and inefficient. To fly, he would have to become one with the wind. To lose himself in it, to dance with it in the sky; that is what he had to do. It terrified him. Which was exactly why he was going to do it.

The wind picks up, lifting his robe and blowing his hair behind him. A thrill courses through his body at the feeling of it against him, and he immerses himself in its touch. Its music flows through him, and his heart speeds up at the sensation.

The other gasps, but the boy ignores him, too lost in the element of freedom. He lifts with it, head tilted back as he moves with the wind's rhythm and song. His breath catches in his throat, several meters above the ground now, and his eyes open wide as he realizes that he's ascended. The shock and triumph of this discovery hurls him out of his almost trance-like state, and he slams back into the ground.

The other boy chuckles, heading over to his comrade. He extends his hand, and the fallen boy takes it, allowing himself to be helped to his feet.

"Maybe next time."

I exhale, feeling the wind caress my face one last time. I would face my death with honor and dignity.

"Spirits of the Wind," I say quietly, sending one last prayer to the only beings that had never abandoned me, "stay with me. Give me strength to face this. Spread thy wings and envelop me in thy gentle embrace. O Spirits of the Wind, ease my passage. I pray to thee one last time; give me strength."

I take a deep, shuddering breath, and straighten my back. I am Vaati, the Wind Sorcerer of Hyrule. I do not fear death.

Farore's Chosen Hero approaches me, his footsteps echoing loudly in the night. "For crimes against Hyrule..."

I'm sorry, Shadow.

"All its people, and the Goddesses themselves..."

I promised I wouldn't let anything happen to you.

"I hereby sentence you, Wind Sorcerer Vaati, to death."

I failed you.

A rush of wind, a sudden pain... and all was still, and black.

"Never."

How do you think it feels? To have everything you love killed by a 'Hero?' Link kills so many, and does anyone ever consider the people he hurts? No. Why? Because he's a 'Hero.' That's all anyone cares about, isn't it? Labels. Hero vs. Villain, that's all people ever see. Good vs. Bad, Link vs. Vaati. Does anyone ever look closer? At the real person? No. People never do. And guess what? They never, ever will.