Twilight of the Mind

Prologue

The King of Shadows sits on the throne – his throne, the one he took by force when his own people betrayed him. His own people! The anger begins to flood his senses once again, rousing him from his near-dead stupor. He immediately tries to hold it back; he knows it does not come from him.

Zant tries to even out his shallow, haggard breathing. Pain courses through nearly his entire body, especially his head. He gathers the strength to open his eyes – a mistake, he realizes as the pain sharpens – and sees his own blood everywhere. It drenches his clothes and runs down the seat of the throne to pool on the floor around his feet. The center of his chest feels oddly numb, as if the pain there is simply too great for his nerves to handle. He is grateful for that, even though a glance downward reveals a gaping hole that he knows means certain death. In fact, he should have died when it was put there...

It is over, he says in his mind.

Over? Over?! the all-too-familiar Voice, the source of the anger, echoes through Zant's head. He thinks he can almost hear it laughing.

Yes, Zant replies. I was a fool to think –

A fool! the Voice cuts him off. Yes, you were a fool – are a fool! You still have your life, your power.

My power, Zant laughs under his breath, but it turns into more of a choked cough. He stares at the cavernous hole in his chest and wonders how he is even breathing at all. My power is nothing. That boy... His reply fades away as memories of the battle with the green-clad child resurface.

His glowing sword that seemed to direct the hand that held it.

His jaw set with determination.

His eyes shining with something almost...beast-like.

That insect is nothing, the Voice hisses angrily, interrupting the flashback. He is merely her tool, and her power is only what she steals from the Fused Shadows. Without those, she is no more than an imp. And she failed to kill you, even with the dark power! It is a sign – a sign that you are meant to live, to have power, to be king!

"Be quiet," Zant whispers aloud, even though it hurts. His throat is on fire and he can taste the blood in his mouth and feel it on his lips. "It is over, don't you understand? Now leave me."

"Leave you? I am you!" the Voice says aloud through Zant's lips, making the pain shoot through his head again.

"You are the agent of a false god!" Zant's own voice rises with his anger, and he clutches his ahead as pain shoots through it. "You are demon sent to plague my mind, and you have done so for long enough!" He is nearly screaming now, as much in anger as in agony. "Leave me in peace –"

He cuts off before he can say "please." Even on the verge of death, he still has a sliver of noble pride.

"Your mind is mine; your body is mine," the Voice hisses, and Zant can feel his lips form a smirk. "You will see that soon enough. You wish to be alone? Very well. I will grant your last request. Enjoy your own thoughts, my king, while they are still yours to control."

Zant feels the Voice's presence withdraw into the recesses of his mind, the dark places he dares not allow his thoughts to wander.

The king of shadows attempts to stand, but his legs become as the chu jelly of the Light World. He slumps back into the throne, still gripping his head. The pain stabs through him again, and it takes all of his willpower not to cry out this time.

Midna had nearly killed him. As her ancestral power had poured into his body, he had felt her malicious intent even through the pain – she wanted him dead more than anything else.

He should have died. Instead he had used the last of his strength to teleport, making it appear as though he had exploded. He had hovered near the high ceiling, watching and waiting as Midna reveled in her power and finally left with the child of Light. Then he had sunk to the throne and lost consciousness.

He wishes he had died. Then he would be free of this agony. Free of the Voice haunting his thoughts and moving his body like a puppet.

Why does he yet live, gasping on the throne as the entire room, the scene of his defeat, seems to mock him? Though he had teleported at the last second, Midna's hair had still left a lethal hole in his chest and it should have killed him long before now.

He thinks back to the words the Voice had spoken through his lips after the battle with the child.

As long as my master, Ganon, survives, he will resurrect me without cease!

It is Ganon's power keeping him alive now, and he hates it. He had thought he had been given the power of a god to use as he wished, not to become a puppet directed by the Voice in his head that sounds like his own but is actually the Voice of the power itself.

He is nothing but a shadow of himself now, and soon the Voice would return and control him completely.

How had it come to this?

The King of Shadows closes his glowing yellow eyes, and the memories begin to flow.