Of course, Ghirahim hadn't teleported.  Instead, he had turned himself invisible, and left the Temple the way he came in.  Because despite his lack of ability to teleport in this place, he refused to allow the desert to prevent him from at least making a dramatic exit from the place of his defeat.  Then he made another minecart ride back to where he had asked his guards to wait for him.  As the cart moved across the chasm, he noticed a line of light appeared from behind the Temple wall. That must have meant that Link had returned to the sky.

That's right, hero.  Run back to your sky land and don't come back.  He wondered idly how soon it would be before Link began killing other demons.  Would it be his fault, because he let him get away?  Even though he tried to kill me, I still let him get away.  Even though his sword is enslaved to him, I let him get away.  Everything I thought he was is a lie.  He remembered the horror etched on Link’s face after he had voiced his suspicions about Fi.  Had that been a lie, too?  A carefully crafted expression designed to evoke sympathy?  No, it couldn’t have been, anymore than it could be that Hylia’s hands were clean.  Both Link and Fi were merely pawns to her.  Still, they were pawns that would destroy him if he kept allowing them to get the better of him like this.

The sky darkened, and the minecart began to creak as it was blown by unnatural winds.  Ghirahim grimaced.No.  Hylia may have slipped away, but so did I, and I can still win.  I will still win.  The winds faded and sky brightened, even though his hands still shook.

When he reached the hollowed-out tree he noticed the sorcerer was there along with the two guards.  Though the sorcerer hadn't stated any intention of sticking around earlier, he supposed his unexpected assistant would have wanted to know the outcome of the battle as well.  He supposed he might as well get this over with.

“I failed,” he said simply.  “And Hylia is reborn.”

The three demons made sounds of dismay. “What happened?”  Ferrik asked, looking anxious. Ghirahim could imagine why.  All of his worst fears were surely coming true. The red demon spoke quietly,  “Is she here?  Is she going to come after us--?”

Ghirahim shook his head.  “That is not an immediate concern.  She went through the Gate with Impa.  That's why I left.  The Sky Hero was there, too.  He went back to the sky.  So, nothing to fear at the moment, only things to dread for the future.”  Ghirahim laughed bitterly.  

“The Sky Hero?”  Orynx asked, concern showing through his previously neutral expression.  “What happened?”

“He—just—he tried to kill me!”  Ghirahim screamed abruptly.    “This is unforgivable!  He will pay!  They will all pay!” A switch made of three diamond-shaped crystals set in the tree shattered.  He immediately felt embarrassed about his outburst.  He had been so angry that he had destroyed what he thought was a rather aesthetically pleasing design.  He used his magic to quickly piece it back together, though not without some visible cracks in the repair.  It was a rather poor job, he thought, but putting things back together was easier for him when he was calm, which he currently was not.  Finally, he turned to the other three demons.  “Ah, sorry.  This is not your fault.  This is--” he paused, as his gaze settled on his arm.  “Hey, this is impossible.”

“What's impossible?”  Orynx asked.

“My glove,” Ghirahim said, frowning.  “It's inside-out.  I never put my glove on inside--”  A terrible thought suddenly occurred to him.  Quickly yanking off the glove, he saw a triangle shaped chip in his  body paint.  His mind raced quickly through the recent events of that day.  It didn’t take long for him to determine a culprit.

Impa.

“What happened?”  Ferrik asked.  A look of horror swept across his face.  “The Shard of Truth!  It's--”

“--gone,”  Ghirahim said.  “And there's only one person who could have taken it.  The Sheikah.”

“You're sure?” Orynx asked.  “Maybe the hero--?”

Ghirahim shook his head.  “The hero tried to kill me, yes, but he didn’t get close enough to do this.”  At least--not anytime after I had already taken the shard back from Gorko.  “Impa attacked me after I broke through her shield.  She must have used her unnatural speed to take the shard from me—the attack was just a cover for a sleight-of-hand trick.”

Ghirahim felt sick to his stomach.  Sure, he had thought about the possibility that he might not capture the Spirit Maiden, but considering such a defeat was very different from actually experiencing it.  And to lose the Shard as well?

“You are the bearer of the Shard of Truth?”  Wise said, their metallic voice managing to sound surprised through all its echoing static.

“Was,” Ghirahim said gloomily.  “The tense is rather important there.”

“Ah, sorry.  I just--wasn’t expecting that.  Anyway, you must be drained after your fight,”  Wise said.  “Here, let me heal your face.”

“Thank you,” Ghirahim said, giving the winged demon a small smile.  “I'm very sorry to be such a disappointment.  Even with all your help, it seems that the goddess has escaped my grasp.”

Running a clawed hand just in front of Ghirahim's face, Wise healed the demon lord's injuries.  Ghirahim sighed in relief.

“I'm only sorry that I wasn't able to help more,” Wise said.  “The Sheikah you went up against is very powerful.  When I fought her earlier, I was unable to defeat her, and she spent too much of my energy for me to attempt another attack so soon.  Perhaps if I had known in advance of your arrival, I could have waited to fight by your side instead.”

Ghirahim only shook his head.  “It doesn't do to dwell on what could have been, though I understand the sentiment.  We still have a chance to win.”

“Yes, that's true.  We need to be on guard for retaliation from Hylia, though.  Now that she's returned, she will be able to further unify her once-fragmented forces.”

“Fragmented?”  Ghirahim asked.

“Let’s just say that the surface dwellers do not necessarily get along terribly well with each other.  But they all worship Hylia in one form or another.  As you might imagine, her words will have great weight in resolving any disputes they may have between them.”

“I have tried to form alliances with some of the surface dwellers.  I believe that the gorons and the mogmas in particular might at least be convinced not to actively fight against us.”

“Really?”  Wise asked.  “That's impressive.”

“Thank you,”  Ghirahim said.

“You can’t have been ruler long,”  Wise said.  “Last time I was in the Lower Realms it was still ruled by Releris.  How long have you held the throne?”

“Nine years,” Ghirahim said.

“And how long had you been vying for it, before it was yours?  How long had you planned to take the throne for yourself?”

Ghirahim considered the question.  “Maybe four or five minutes?”

“Wait-what?”  The other sorcerer’s expression was difficult to read considering how much of their face was covered, but Ghirahim could see that their eyes had widened considerably.

“It was kind of a spur-of-the-moment thing,”  Ghirahim said, shrugging.

“Could you--elaborate?”

 “I had had a few plans to fulfill--personal obligations, but until I killed Releris it hadn’t occurred to me that I might become ruler myself.”

“Then--what did you think would happen?  Who did you think would rule the Lower Realms?”

“I don’t know.  I didn’t really think about it much,”  Ghirahim said.  He frowned and crossed his arms.  “Anyway, I must ask why this is so important to you.  Releris confined my magic as a child and forced me to serve him.  I never approved of his rule, but I didn’t have much of a chance to make plans to better the realm before I killed him.”

“Sorry,” Wise said.  “I didn’t know.  It’s just--your accomplishments are impressive.  But I had hoped you had been planning this for some time because otherwise--you started too early.”

“Surely you don't mean that,”  Ghirahim said.  “If anything, I have been too late.”

“Your impatience is understandable, but you cannot possibly imagine how unprepared you still are to face this foe,”  Wise said.  “Who is your warmaster?  Your tactician?”

“Ah, that was Lord Faust.”

“Was?”

“He's dead,”  Ghirahim said.

Wise put a hand to his cloth-covered face.  “And did he leave any writings on what he planned to do?”

“Not that I'm aware, but I learned some very interesting chess moves from him,”  Ghirahim said.

A strange metallic sound emanated from Wise, then.  It wasn't words, but Ghirahim was picking up undertones of distress.  He gave Wise what he hoped was an encouraging smile.  “I do think Orynx would make a suitable replacement, though I haven't had the opportunity to instate the title to him officially.  He has already taken up Lord Faust's other duties in any--”

Another unintelligible noise emanated from Wise.  “No. Nonononono.  Lord Ghirahim, Orynx is very--single-minded.  A war requires attention to more than just the foe before you.  Also he’s just a bit on the dense side.”

Ghirahim glanced at Orynx, but the guard only gave the demon lord his blandest expression in return.

“He’s the last person you should pick for such a task,” the sorcerer said.

The demon lord turned his face back towards Wise, his eyes narrowed.

“Then who do you recommend?  Yourself?”

“Of course not,” Wise said emphatically.  “That's not what I do, either.  Lord Ghirahim, I have the utmost respect for your tenacity and goals.  While I am reluctant to place too much stock in first impressions, you seem like a decent sort of person.  Which is why I am going to ask, nay,beg, that you make me your advisor.”

“But I don't have advisors,”  Ghirahim said, his brow wrinkling.

“Then who do you get advice from?”  Wise asked.

Ghirahim shrugged.  “Anyone who gives it to me?”

“I—see.  Very well.  I would like to give you advice, then, Lord Ghirahim.  I would like to assist you in this noble venture.  How may I do that?”

“You're a very powerful sorcerer, and clearly quite knowledgeable.  I would be glad to have your assistance.  If you accompany us back to my base on the Surface, you would have your pick of any unfilled roles in the sorcerer's ranks.  And of course I am most interested in discussing any ideas you might have for defeating Hylia and the Sheikahs.”

“That sounds splendid,”  Wise said.

“Perhaps you can also help my soldiers and I to get back to the base I've set up in Faron Woods,”  Ghirahim said.  “Teleportation is the quickest way to do that, and as I understand you are able to teleport here in the desert.”

“Yes, I can help with that,”  Wise said.

“Good,”  Ghirahim responded.  He had accumulated bits of sand in so many uncomfortable places.  He was looking forward to getting back to Faron Woods and taking a well-deserved bath.  He had no idea how he was going to win now.  But perhaps ideas would come more easily after he had had some time to wallow in despair.  Preferably despair with plenty of hot water and soap.

“I sure hope he’s still all right,” Zelda said.  She instinctively looked back, though behind them lay only the turning gears of the gate and an infinite dark void.

Impa’s expression immediately changed to concern.  “Do you think Ghirahim...?”

Zelda shook her head.  “Link is still alive.  I can sense it.”  At least she had that.  She didn’t have much power in this small, weak mortal form, but that one ability had been preserved.

“Well, that’s good at least.  I’d like to be able to give him a proper apology sometime,”  Impa said.  “For misjudging him. He’s a surprisingly unpretentious chosen hero.”

Zelda smiled.  “He really is, isn’t he?”

Impa nodded, then gestured ahead of them.  “Almost there.”

Zelda looked towards the distance.  They were walking towards--infinite blackness.

“I don’t see--” she began, but then noticed a small star of light in the center of that darkness.  Suddenly a starburst of light ripped through the darkness and they stood in the Temple of Time again.  Zelda immediately started at the crowd around them until she realized they were all Sheikahs.  Also, none of them seemed to notice the two newcomers in front of them.

“We’re here,” Impa announced.

Zelda took in the area, her thoughts racing between the present and the past.  She had thought that integrating her memories as Zelda and Hylia would be difficult.  It hadn’t been.  She had had so many worries about who she would be once she had regained her memories.  Impa had been mostly right, though, even if she hadn’t fully understood the process herself.  Zelda hadn’t suddenly become a completely different person.  But the one thing that she had not prepared Zelda for was how difficult it was to be two people at once, especially when one of those people was a goddess.  She knew why she had chosen to do that.  She had to be grounded in both the past and in her present self.  As Zelda, she knew the present.  As the goddess, she had lived the past.  Well, all but maybe a thousand years of it, anyway.  Arguing with herself was going to take on an entirely new meaning now.  

Still, at the present moment all of herself was in agreement.  Zelda stared at the scene around them in utter astonishment.  People stood in front of them, but it wasn't Zelda and Impa they were looking at.  It was the Gate.  The newly finished Gate of Time.  It stood in a lush realm, with a sky and a land filled with grass and trees and animals.  Zelda had never imagined seeing something like this.  And Hylia had never imagined that mortals could create something like this.  She had always thought, wrongly, she now knew, that only a divinity could create another world.  Even Demise's attempt at creating his own realm had been quite rudimentary, and he had been a demigod.  All of his power had only been able to conjure up the merest shadow of a world.  But this...

“This is amazing.  How, and why, did the Sheikah create this realm?”

Impa smiled.  “Well, as I said, I don't know the specifics.  But a team of spellcasters worked on it with the main designer.  You can see the lot of them standing around here.  They won't notice us, and in fact we can step right through them.  But the rest of this world is quite real, so we can pick up some food here before we head back towards Faron Woods.

“As to why, well, it was meant to serve as a tool for prophecy.  Originally, it was meant to allow people to turn it to any time—the past, the present, the future.  Unfortunately, the Gate is stuck on one time only—the time of it's completion. It loops that month over and over.”

“Oh,” Zelda said.

 Impa frowned.  “Most boring, useless period of time ever, if you ask me.  Still, it has served the Sheikah well as a realm in which to conceal things, or even ourselves, from the scrutiny of outsiders. This place is its own separate world, after all, and draws energy from the void to sustain its existence.  While it has its limits, it's a very useful resource.”

Zelda narrowed her eyes.  “The Sheikah created anentire world to try to get better prophecies?  Why not just ask a Seer?”

Impa’s expression was thoughtful.  “Prophecy can’t see the past.  And you know what they say--history repeats itself.  Also prophecy is often really vague--some people even say it’s so unclear that it’s useless.  The Gate was meant to correct those problems.  Didn’t work for that but--”  Impa shrugged, “we’ve found it useful all the same.”

A thought occurred to her.  Zelda gave Impa a concerned look.  “You destroyed the Gate of Time, though.  Doesn't that mean we're stuck in this realm?”

“No,” Impa said.  “There are many means by which we can pass from this realm into our own. the most convenient being the other end of the Gate.”

“So there's another Gate?”

“Yes,” Impa assured her.  “It's in the Sheikah Temple in Faron Woods.  We'll travel there in this realm, then go through the Gate there to meet up with Tala and the other Sheikah.”

“Oh,” Zelda said, her eyes lighting up.  “Yes, it’s been so long since I talked with Tala.”  There was so much she wanted to say to the only surviving demigoddess of the Sheikah.

And what does it say of me that the only one of them who lives was also the only one who almost couldn’t die?

She sighed.  There was so much she had to say.  And so much she had to apologize for.  Of course, nothing she could say could make up for what she had done.  Still, it needed to be said.  She’s been alone for so long...

“Well, I suppose we’ve been away from the Temple for a while now, haven’t we?”  Impa said absently as she plucked a steaming amplius the size of her hand from a food stall and eyed it hungrily.

Zelda shuddered slightly at the sight of the crustacean’s small beady eyes.  Suddenly Impa turned to face her, comprehension dawning on her features.  “Oh.Oh.You mean from--before, don’t you?”

Zelda nodded.  “It was such a long time ago.  I’m sure it seems even longer to her since I haven’t--experienced the intervening time as she has.  But I’m also sure she hasn’t forgotten.”

Hylia hadn’t forgotten, either.  She never did.

Impa took her hand.  “That reminds me.  Tala told me to tell you something when your memories returned.”

Zelda looked up at the Sheikah woman.  “What did she say?”

“She said,” Impa paused, “--that the eye opened into the empty sky.  She said you’d know what it meant.”  Impa frowned.  “She wouldn’t tell me, though.”

Zelda sighed.  “It’s about a personal matter.”

“Oh, I guess that explains why she sounded so annoyed when I asked about it,”  Impa said.  “I thought it was something about the war.”

“No, but perhaps she’ll tell you herself after we both--” Zelda stopped as one individual caught her attention by passing through several others as she walked towards them.

“Well, it’s about time you two got here,” the red-robed woman said as she approached them, tapping her staff in front of her as she walked.  A white eye of truth was emblazoned on the front of her robes, and Zelda noted the contrast of her dark skin with the wispy clouds of her hair and the milky white covering her eyes.

“You’re late, Your Grace,” the woman said, sounding relieved and stopping directly in front of them.  She stared straight ahead, directly above Zelda’s head.  Was Link truly the only person not taller than her?

Zelda tilted her head to the side.  “Late?  What do you mean by that?”

“Well, my vision had you arriving mmmm...nearly a day earlier.  You can’t imagine how worried I was.  Or how truly infuriating these people are.”  She waved her staff towards the chattering apparitions around them.  “No respect for the craft, I tell you.”

“You mean you’re--” Zelda began.

“--A Seer who can’t see?  Haha, yes.”

Impa gestured towards the Seer.  “Your Grace, this is Arratayne, the last Seer.”

“Arratayne, this is Her Grace--”

“--Hylia the Reborn, also known as Zelda,” Arratayne said quickly, flashing Impa a quick grin. “Yes.  I know.” She placed a hand briefly on Zelda’s head.  “You’re shorter than I thought you’d be.”

Zelda felt a deep relief, despite having the diminutive physical stature that so exasperated her now pointed out.  As Hylia, so many had bowed before her to beg for aid or forgiveness.  It was refreshing to meet someone unfamiliar who seemed to feel no desire to humble themselves before her.

“Apologies, Great Seer,”  Impa said.  “I have long heard of you and your deeds but I was not expecting you.  My name is--”

“--Impa.”

Impa’s eyes widened momentarily before her expression changed to a rueful smile.  “Apologies again, it seems I underestimated your abilities.”

“No, I knew your name because the council told me all about you before I left,” Arratayne said.  “That’s about the only thing they’ve been talking about, in fact.  You might not realize this, Impa, but ever since you were chosen for this task, they’ve been at each other’s throats.”

Impa raised an eyebrow, frowning.  “No one ever said anything to me--”

“Of course not,”  Arratayne said, her expression dour.  “They didn’t want you worrying about the politics.  Not when you needed to be focused on the task at hand.”

“What exactly has been going on in the council, then?” Impa asked.  “Did they send you here to meet us?”

“No.  I came because they’re being a bunch of fools, the lot of them,” Arratayne said.  “So I don’t trust them to handle the goddess’s return properly.  I came to warn you of the danger you face from them.”

Zelda felt a sudden flare of anger.  “Why would they be fighting amongst themselves when we are already at war with the demons?  Do I need to remind them of what is at stake?”  Her hand entwined protectively over Impa’s.

“No, I’m afraid that’s exactly the problem,” Arratayne said.  “Hylia, there’s much we have to discuss.  However, I must ask that we leave for my private residence as soon as possible.”  The Seer grimaced.  “I simply loathe Lanayru.”

Zelda tilted her head.  The Lanayru of the present wasn’t the best place to be, she’d admit.  But this place seemed to imitate the form it took when still in its prime.  “Lanayru is is really quite nice, though.  Seaside, plenty of grass and palm trees--”

“No,” Arratayne said, shaking her head.  “I wasn’t talking about the place.  I was talking about that wretched dragon!”

Link stood next to the bird statue in the Temple of Time.  He didn't have his Loftwing or his Sailcloth.  He deliberated on what he should do.  Finally, he took his tunic off, leaving only his chain mail and undershirt, and touched the bird statue.  It wasn't ideal, but he was confident he could float to the nearest sky island using his tunic as a makeshift sailcloth.  After that, he could signal someone to pick him up from there.

It turned out his plan was more elaborate than necessary.

“Hey, you look like you could use a hand, Link,” a voice called out.  Link craned his head and saw Orielle leaning forward on her brown Loftwing.  She guided the bird in a turn and caught him as he parachuted through the sky using his tunic.  Link held onto her shoulders, grateful that she had caught him but at the same time feeling uncomfortable being too close to someone when he was sweaty and full of dirt.

“I want to know what happened, but let's get you back to the Academy first,” she said.  “Whatever happened, you look like you've been through a lot.   You probably need to rest.”

Link sighed, and quickly putting his tunic back on over his chain mail and undershirt.  He guessed he had been through a lot, but that wasn't really what was troubling him.  He was worried about Fi.  Was she really enslaved to him?  Was that why she called him Master?  He had thought it was just--how she spoke.  But now he didn’t know what to think.  He couldn’t simply pretend everything was all right.  He had to talk to her.

He was also worried about Ghirahim.  Ghirahim probably despised him now.  He hadn't—ever intended to kill the demon lord.  Had he?  He remembered the sinister expression Ghirahim had had on his face as he had prepared to attack Impa.  Link had just reacted then, without really thinking about it.  Still, if he hadn’t acted, Ghirahim might have--he cut the thought off.  A lot of things might have happened.  He supposed he’d never know, now, what those things might be.

His thoughts turned to Zelda.  Should he think of her as Hylia now?  Where was she?  Was she even the same person anymore?  Had she ever been the person he had thought her to be?  Perhaps nothing was as he had naively believed it to be.

When they landed, he saw Kukiel run up to them.   She was wearing her usual outfit along with a red Sky Knight hat.  “Link!  Link!  Look! I'm a hero too, now!  Can I come with you to the Surface?!”

Link wondered how she had gotten the hat.  The Knight's Academy didn't exactly hand them out to just anyone, and he knew that neither of her parents were knights themselves.  He gave her a warm smile, even as his heart broke at her words.  I’m a hero too, now, she had said.  But if there was one thing Link felt certain of, it was that he was anything but a hero.

Link jumped off Orielle's bird and sketched a quick picture.  Kukiel took it.

“Are you calling me short?”  Kukiel said.  “I'm not that short!  Anyway, at least I'm going to get taller!”

Orielle smiled.  “Yes, I think that's what he means, Kukiel.  You can become a Knight and go down to the surface—when you're older.”

Link nodded.

Kukiel jumped around and waved her hands, clutching the drawing in her right hand.  “Aw, but that's going to take sooo long!”

“That depends on how much you study,” Orielle said.  “If you study hard, you might be able to graduate early.  Isn't that right, Link?”

Link nodded, though he thought she might be implying that he had been given his Knight's clothing by studying hard, which hadn't been the case.  It wasn't that he wasn't interested in school, but he had never felt that he had worked as hard as everyone else.  He had just ended up in this situation, somehow.

“Well, then I'll get started now!  You'll see!  I bet I can learn it all really fast!  My Da says I still have a couple years until my Loftwing comes, but I bet they’ll get here earlier if I learn it all before then!”

She looked up at them brightly.  “Well, I gotta go—get started!”  She ran off, taking Link's drawing and the possibly stolen knight's hat with her.

“She's going to make a great knight,”  Orielle said.  “That was never my thing, but I can tell she'll be good at it.  What do you think?”

Link nodded, smiling, though he worried about her other aspiration.  He hoped that if Kukiel ever did go down to the surface, it wouldn’t be in the middle of a war.  He drew a few pictures to convey his thanks and agreed that he would fill her and the other Skyloft residents in on what was happening before he left for the surface again.  Then he went to his room in the Academy, turned the chair near his desk towards the window, and sat down.

Fi jumped out of the sword and floated in front of him.  Light from the window streamed in behind her, outlining her blue glow with a golden one.  She looked down at him as she hovered in the air.  “There is much we must discuss,” she said.

Link nodded.  He thought carefully before communicating his thoughts to Fi.

“I suspected you might be worried about that,” Fi said.  “But understand, Lord Ghirahim is only basing what he says on Scervo's words.  And Scervo says only that which will benefit him.”

But was it true?  Link needed to know.

Fi tilted her head towards the window for a moment before directing her gaze back at him.

“The answer to that is—yes,”  she said.  “But it as not as simple as Scervo made it sound.  I will try to explain.”

“I am a being of great power,” Fi said.  “And I have served in many roles, both within this realm and outside of it.”  Lights glimmered off the surface of her wings as she spoke.  “For many ages, a multitude walked this realm who could check my power.  One by one, many of them died or saw their own power slowly fade in ways that mine did not.  Hylia came to believe that my power was too great in the changed world without some added check to it.”

Link frowned.  He wondered why anyone would think Fi had ever done anything to warrant such suspicion.

“It wasn’t about what I had or hadn’t done,” Fi said.  “Power can overwhelm anyone, no matter how good their intentions may be.  Hylia had the entire future of this world to ensure.  And that was why I agreed that my power be limited.  Hylia originally suggested that some of my abilities be moved to another person, but that option was--objectionable to me.  In the end she presented me with a choice.  I preferred that she alter my nature rather than reduce my abilities.”

Link looked up at her.  Why would she do that?  What possible good could come of it?

“I knew I had the power to serve as the sword of her chosen hero,”  Fi said.  “But such a thing would require certain--sacrifices. I made a choice.  The war needed to be won.”

Link looked at the sword in his hands, and then at Fi.  He had to do something about this.  Even if it wasn’t quite clear to him what he should do.  He couldn’t simply ignore this, though.  He tried to organize his thoughts.  He hoped he could convey them properly to the sword spirit.

She tilted her head.  “I see.  So you do understand why I chose this situation.  But you still wish to know if this binding can be ended.”

Link nodded.  This wasn’t--this couldn’t be right.  Ghirahim was right.  If he cared about Fi, he wouldn’t expect her to serve him.  He was no better than her, no higher being.  She should never be subordinate to him.  No one should.

“My answer to you is that--it can.  And there is a way that you can end it.”

Link felt energy return to him.  There was something he could do!  Would Fi explain it to him?  Could she?

“Yes, I can do that.  But before you decide to end the binding in that way, I would have you understand the consequences of that decision.”

It was taking all of Ghirahim's self-control not to kill Terrin on sight, and not only because he was still stuck in his sand-filled clothes in the quickly cooling desert.  Circe and the other demons who had been guarding Link hadn't had a chance to explore the large building here because they had been given new orders upon finding Terrin and Astaroth frozen in the desert.  Since the goddess had already left the desert, Ghirahim had decided that the mystery of the strange edifice could wait.  So Wise had teleported Ghirahim, Orynx, and Ferrik there immediately before teleporting the rest of the soldiers back to Faron Woods.  Then they had all waited.  It had taken the rest of the day for the spell on the two demons to dissipate.  They hadn’t been able to capture them until it did, because anything that came near either of the two demons had been slowed down as well.  In that time, Ghirahim had pondered countless ways in which to kill Terrin.  Countless illegal ways.  That he was still thinking of, in fact.  This was unhealthy.  He needed to think of something else.

The external voice of agreement wasn’t helping with that, however.

“I still don't understand,” Wise said.  “Why can't you just execute him now?  You mean you can't just kill him now?  Can I watch when he dies?”

Besides the dim light of the moon and stars, the sandy area was also lit by the torches Orynx and Ferrik held, as well as the light orbs that Wise and Ghirahim had conjured.

“Because—laws,”  Ghirahim said, grinding his teeth.  “Laws which I intend to follow, because I put them in place and because they are all a very good idea, most of the time.  But which are very inconvenient just now. Anyway, I know what I have against Lord Terrin,” Ghirahim said.  “But what did he do to get on your bad side?”

“Oh, a lot of things,” Wise said.  “A lot of things.”

“Hey, I remember you.” Terrin jabbed a claw towards Wise.  The green masked demon now stood in the cage that they had found near him in Lanayru.   “The one with the odd voice-changing spell.  You’re the same sorcerer that wanted to get rid of Thressan, aren’t you?”  Terrin said.

The sorcerer crossed his arms.  His eyes, the only visible part of his face, narrowed.  “Why yes, though I must wonder why you ask.  That’s hardly relevant right now.”

“I’ll admit that we weren’t exactly friends, but this is uncalled for!”  Terrin protested.  “I helped you depose that depraved fiend!”

“Your one redeeming act,” Wise said, rustling their wings.  “Still, that cannot erase your many crimes.”

Ghirahim’s attention turned to a different sorcerer on seeing a small movement from them.  Astaroth was currently standing outside the cage, though he was being closely watched.    Although he'd been assisting Terrin in his treason, the accounts of his actions as given by Circe and the other soldiers made his offenses comparatively minor.  The sorcerer, who was currently flanked by Orynx and Ferrik, had laced his hands together, though his fingers still fidgeted nervously.  He was giving Ghirahim a worried frown.

“Lord Ghirahim, I must ask that whatever grievances this other sorcerer has not be added to whatever charges you are placing on Lord Terrin,” Astaroth added quickly.  “If his complaints are of events that happened during Thressan’s reign, then they have certainly exceeded the statute of limitations.”  The red demon seemed to shrink when the shrouded sorcerer turned their gaze on him.

“Not that I wish to devalue whatever injury you feel my lord has brought upon you, good sir,”  Astaroth said quickly.  “But surely you must see that such old events can hardly be brought to trial.  What evidence could possibly be--?”

Wise waved a hand dismissively.  “Yes, yes, of course.  Anyway, I understand he’s done more than enough recently to merit a swift execution.  He does seem to be constantly causing trouble.”

Astaroth turned to Ghirahim and looked stricken.  “Execution?  What are the charges against him?”

Ghirahim scowled.  “What charges?  Only treason, Astaroth.  Interfering with my plans.  Disobeying my direct orders.  Causing the sky hero to escape.  The sky hero who--nearly killed me!  I was so close to victory, Astaroth.  And now we have the sky hero and a goddess running free!”

Terrin hissed at the word goddess.  His posture wilted, making him seem smaller.  “You are right, my lord,” he said, in an unexpectedly quiet voice,  “I deserve to be charged with treason.  I did not mean for any of this to happen as it did, but I have failed in the worst possible way.”

“Yes, you have,”  Ghirahim said. “I hope you aren’t expecting any mercy.”

“Of course not,”  Terrin said.  His masked face was tilted towards the ground.  He gestured briefly towards the red-robed sorcerer.  “Astaroth, I release you from my service.  You needn’t concern yourself with assisting me any longer.”

Astaroth’s eyes widened.  “Are you quite certain, my lord?”

“Yes,”  Terrin said.

“Well, I--all right,”  Astaroth said.  He turned to Ghirahim.  “I suppose I should ask what the charges against myself are.”

“Nothing,”  Ghirahim said.

“Nothing?”  Astaroth asked, his expression becoming cautiously hopeful.

“I assume you acted on Lord Terrin’s orders,”  Ghirahim said.  “The laws do not prescribe any punishment for those who only acted under duress.  We’ll be keeping you a bit to ask you some questions, of course, but I think it very likely that afterwards you will be free to go.  You have another chance, Astaroth.  I hope you will not waste it.”  He didn’t want to have to kill the other sorcerer.  They had too few sorcerers at any rate to be killing anyone like Astaroth if they didn’t have to.  He only hoped the other sorcerer wouldn’t act out of misplaced loyalty towards Terrin.

“I won’t, my lord.  Thank you.”  Astaroth seemed relieved, though he glanced worriedly towards Terrin before turning to Ferrik, who stood to the right of the sorcerer.  “Are you truly one of the Elite Guard?”

Ferrik gave the sorcerer a surprised look.  “Er--yes?  Why?”

“Ah, no reason,” Astaroth said quickly.  “I was just curious.  I’ve heard a bit about you, is all.”

Ferrik puffed up a bit.  “Well, I suppose it is a prestigious position.”

Orynx turned to Astaroth.  “No talking, prisoner.”  He glared over at Ferrik as well, though he said nothing to the other guard.

Astaroth nodded and looked towards the ground.  Ferrik only rolled his eyes, though he also said nothing in response.

Ghirahim took a deep breath. “So, now that we’ve finally gotten all that out of the way, let’s get out of this place.”  He had a lot of work ahead of him.  He grimaced at the gritty feeling inside his jumpsuit, and tried not to fall over from exhaustion.  It had been a long day.  Too long.  He needed to escape from this place. I won’t even be able to get to sleep until I’ve washed all this cursed sand off.

Wise nodded and waved a hand.  Ghirahim noted that the world faded out just a bit more slowly when the other sorcerer teleported them.  The process itself also felt a bit--odd, as if he could feel his body dissolving.  The green trees of Faron Woods appeared around them then.

He noticed that Orynx seemed to have developed a twitch in one eye.  Ghirahim poked him in the arm.

“Feeling all right?”

“I’m fine,” Orynx said curtly.

Ghirahim shrugged and turned to walk away.  The light breeze around them strengthened.  The demon lord could smell a storm rolling in.  “I’ll be in my chambers,” he said, the three pointed sections of his cape flapping behind him as he walked.  “No one is to disturb me for any reason for three hours.”

“And what if they do?”  Wise asked.

“They will sorely regret it.  I will collect every grain of sand that still resides on me or my apparel and force them to wear it,”  Ghirahim said simply.