Chapter  5 :  Lost

Ghirahim woke to the sunlight. One of the demon sorcerers, dressed in red robes, stood over him. The sorcerer looked down at him with wide eyes.

"Hnnggg-" Ghirahim said. He coughed and tried again. "Who are you?" He noticed overturned chairs and a ruined table where Link and Zelda had been sitting earlier. Looking over to his left, he saw to his relief that Ferrik and Orynx were still alive and well. He looked back over at the sorcerer. "Where—are the the Sky People?"

"I-I am Sorcerer Kiris. And-Sky People? The ones you captured, you mean? The Sheikahs took them, I'm afraid. How do you feel, my lord?"

"A bit sore in the chest," he said. Looking down, however, he could see that there was no longer a dagger in him. There was a lot of blood, but as he brushed his hand over where the wound had been, he felt only smooth skin. The Shard of Truth had been telling him that he was at nearly maximal health since he had awoken, but he had rather preferred to see for himself. "Still, this is considerably improved from 'on the cusp of death'," he assured the nervous-looking sorcerer.

Ghirahim slowly rose from the ground until he was standing, and stretched slowly. He took a deep breath as he looked up at the sun for a moment. Then he examined himself again. His clothing, his entire body, was an absolute mess. He was covered in dirt and blood. Horrible. But I'll deal with that second. First-rewards.He looked over at the nervous-looking sorcerer. "My thanks to you, Kiris. Are you the one who healed me?"

The sorcerer nodded. "With much help from your two guards, my lord." Ghirahim looked over to where the sorcerer had gestured towards Ferrik and Orynx. "They are the ones you should thank. It was they who told me where you were and what I needed to do. Ferrik told me where to teleport to find you. And your guard, Orynx, knows a surprising amount about magic for one who cannot work it. It was not I who knew the spell that healed you-I performed it at his direction."

Ghirahim spread his hands. "Nevertheless, your assistance is most appreciated. What is your rank, sorcerer?"

"I am a Fourth Line Sorcerer," Kiris replied.

"Then I shall promote you to the Second Line, and I shall give you this," Ghirahim teleported the item from his tent. He handed the staff to Kiris. "These staffs were used by court sorcerers before Releris banned sorcery in the realm. They are said to be very effective for focusing spells—this is the only old one I've found so far. I'm working on creating new ones that are better designed. Still, I think you might find the magic stored in this one makes it more useful than just an interesting antique."

Kiris took the staff gingerly and gave Ghirahim a wide stare. "Thank you, my lord."

"You are most welcome," the demon lord said.

After the sorcerer left, Ghirahim turned to his two guards. "It seems that I also have the two of you to thank for saving my life." He looked over at the empty, overturned chairs by the demolished table. "Which means, I presume, that you disregarded my orders about our sky guests."

Ferrik looked contrite. Orynx was unreadable.

"Sorry, my lord," the red demon said, miserable. "I—couldn't let you die!"

Ghirahim gave a short laugh. "I hardly expect an apology, Ferrik. What a sorry reward that would be for saving my life! No, I am quite glad you did not follow my orders in this case. I am not sure what reward to give either of you, though. You already have the highest post among the guards, and your swords couldn't really be any better..."

"You don't need to give us any rewards," Orynx said. "Success in our duty is reward enough."

"How very stoic of you, Orynx," Ghirahim said. "But I am sure there is something you want, even if you don't know it yet. I will need to take some time to think on it, though." He looked back towards the empty chairs. "In the meantime, please update me on what happened to our guests."'

"My lord," Orynx said. "You've had a very long day. I will ask that you get some rest."

"I am not in the mood for rest," Ghirahim said, making a fist. "Those accursed Sheikahs—I was so close—I nearly had a vow from Hylia herself!"

"So she really was Hylia?" Ferrik said, a confused expression on his face.

"Yes. For some reason, she just didn't know it," Ghirahim said. "But I assure you, she was Hylia. Her presence and the Sky Hero's are not ones that I could mistake." The sword's magic allowed the demon lord to recognize and differentiate between Hylia and all of her servants.

Ferrik frowned. "Why were we going to send her back to the sky, though? Didn't we want her as a hostage?"

Ghirahim gave a bitter laugh. "Yes, that was the original plan, but this would have been ever so much better."

"But all we would've had was her word," Ferrik said. "She could've changed her mind later and broken it!"

"And that would have brought us great fortune," Ghirahim said. "In fact, it wouldn't have mattered whether she kept her word or broke it."

"I don't understand..." Ferrik said.

"It's simple, really," Ghirahim said. "How familiar are you with the creation story of the three goddesses?"

"Er...I'm not really very religious-"

Ghirahim chuckled. "Oh, I didn't mean it that way. Allow me to explain. The three goddesses created the sun, the world, the Triforce, life, etc., etc. When they decided to leave our world to go wherever it is goddesses go when they get bored, they created Hylia and made her their equal. Well, nearly so, anyway. And they told her to watch over all the creatures they had created—much to our eventual misfortune."

"Oh, I've heard that part before. Why does that matter?"

"Because when they created her, they conditioned her power on the keeping of her vows. For every vow she broke, she would lose a large portion of her power. If she broke too many vows, she would die. Once, she made a vow to Demise."

"Yes, but didn't she break that?" Ferrik said, bewildered. "And then run him through with her sword?"

"All true. But the cost was her immortal form. I think she might not want to repeat the experience, and lose the next power that would take from her—the magic she grants her chosen champions," Ghirahim said. "The vow she has to swear has some specific wording, but I have little doubt I could have convinced her to say it before I sent her back to the sky. She was already willing to make her promise to me."

"But then the Sheikahs-"

"Would no longer have been able to use magic of any sort against us at all," Ghirahim said. "All of their power comes from her—they are her creatures entirely. It might have been interesting to see whether their magic simply stopped working against us or whether their use of it to attack us would have drained away the very power they drew from. The same is true for the Sky Hero and Fi. For the dragons, it would have been even worse, for they not only use magic, but are also made from it. Either way, we would have won."

Ghirahim's mood darkened as he brooded on all they had lost. When I searched for their presence in the sky, the sword's power was able to find them, and my power was able to retrieve them. So simple, butonly possible because they and I were in the right place, at the right time. It had been a stroke of unimaginable luck. But then it had been negated by the ill fortune that had befallen him. At times like these, the Unbreakable Sword called for him to shed blood. But there was no one he could kill here. He needed to find those Sheikahs...

"I need to make the Sheikahs suffer for this!" Ghirahim said, teleporting wildly around the clearing. Finally, he stopped. Standing in the middle, he took deep, shuddering breaths. "Orynx, I require-"

"-some bugs," Orynx said. "I could give you some pins and a board to place them on, my lord."

Ghirahim stared at him in surprise. Then he laughed, much to Orynx's dismay. "Oh, that was a good one, Orynx. But I think this day has quite cured me of any surface disorientation."

Orynx sighed. "It was worth a try. Perhaps you might consider a change of clothes instead?"

Ghirahim looked back down at his blood-spattered clothing and grimaced. "Very well. You win this time, Orynx. I do need a change of clothes, and a bath. And then I will finish conquering this world."

Zelda felt as if they were in some sort of nightmare. Link tried to comfort her, stroking her hair and humming her favorite song to her, but she could tell his hands were shaking, too.

"Is that really Hylia? I thought she'd be taller..."

"Look! The Sky Hero! The legends have come true!"

"The demons had better run and hide, now..."

"That's the Sky Hero? We're all doomed," someone else said.

"Enough," an old woman in a colorful, strangely shaped robe stood. Though she was not tall, and her voice carried only because of the acoustics of the room, all of the Sheikahs quieted down. She turned to face Zelda and Link. "This must all be very confusing for you," she said quietly.

"Yes," Zelda said, shaking. She gathered her courage and spoke. "W-why do you all fight each other? K-kill each other?" The sight of the Sheikah stabbing the demon lord, and then the demon running the Sheikah through with his blade was etched in her mind, for all of her attempts to think of something, anything, besides that. The demon lord had been so polite to them, too. And the Sheikahs had told her the dead boy was only sixteen! So young! Too young to die!

"Let me try to explain. You were captured by the demon lord. He sought to use you against us, and that would have been disastrous for all of the surface realm."

"He was going to send us back home," Zelda protested. "He meant us no harm!"

"Whatever he said to you was a lie," the woman said. "Or else a cleverly crafted demon's truth, where all of the important parts are left out." She looked over to the far right, where Zelda had tried to avoid looking this entire time. "Young Vinir did us a great service in slaying him. The demons will be uncoordinated now, easier to drive back. If they do not choose a new ruler, we may even soon drive them back completely." She was silent a few moments. "He will have a hero's burial."

Zelda could feel the tears running down her face now. She had thought, growing up in the Knight's Academy and training to be a Knight herself, that she knew all of the darkest parts of the world. Knowledge of fights that some of the more combative Skyloftians got into, injuring each other with their fists. Knowledge of the people who died due to disease or the misfortune of accident. Knowledge of the monsters that roamed at night.

But nothing like this. Nothing where people drove swords into each other (as if they were killing monsters!) and died at the hands of another person. And where those who saw such horrors thought something good had come from it!

"Please," Zelda said, her voice cracking. "I just want to go home." She felt like such a child. She should act her age, but she no longer felt like a confident adult in this world. She no longer felt like someone who could fend for themselves. When she had been in Skyloft, she had felt a longing, a desire, to see the surface. It was never something easily definable, but it was always there. Now all she wanted was to return to Skyloft and never come back to this horrible place again.

Another one of the Sheikahs—this one a tall, lean woman-approached her and bowed. "I am Impa, Your Grace, and this is your home. We beg you to help us."

"How?" Zelda asked, wiping the tears from her eyes. "I don't understand any of this. I can't—I can't do anything that would help—stop whatever is happening here."

"What is happening here is war, Your Grace," Impa said.

"And why does everyone keep calling me that? I'm not the Goddess." Zelda said. She remembered that Sparrot had said that she was supposed to help raise the goddess. Maybe that was somehow confusing all of these surface dwellers?

"But you are, Your Grace," Impa said. "When the Goddess's immortal form was fatally injured during her fight with Demise, she transferred her soul into a mortal. And ever since, in every generation, one mortal is born into the world of her soul."

"But—I'm not her—I'm just Zelda. Wouldn't I know if I were the Goddess?"

Impa shook her head. "She didn't have time to transfer her entire being. Instead, she transferred her personality, the heart of her being, into the mortal, and placed her memories in three separate springs for safekeeping. You must travel to each of these springs to regain those memories, to become your full self. Then you will be able to lead us to victory against the demons, as you did before."

Zelda looked up at the tall Sheikah woman. She had a long blonde braid and a red eye painted on her face. Her skin was a golden bronze color. Though she looked to be only a few years older than Zelda, her eyes seemed so much older than that. Zelda thought the woman practically oozed confidence and reassurance. She should be the Goddess, not me. She's the one who knows what she's doing. "What about Link?" She looked over at him worriedly.

Impa walked over to him. "He is not yet ready for the trials that will face him. We will return him to your land in the sky-"

Zelda perked up. So the Sheikahs also had a way to send them back! Impa's previous words sunk in. "But you won't send me back, will you?"

Impa placed a hand on her shoulder. "Goddess, we would never think to hold you against your will. But if you are truly the Goddess, as I know you are, I cannot imagine that you would leave us to die against the demons. You have always helped us when we needed it most."

Zelda looked up at her. She did want to help—she had just felt so overwhelmed before—but now that Impa had explained what she needed to do, it seemed less daunting. If she had all the Goddesses' memories, she would know everything she needed to know to fix this, surely. "Will you—will you help me?"

"I will guard you with my life," Impa said, bowing again.

Zelda rose slowly. "I think I can visit a few springs with you, then." She smiled.

Impa smiled warmly back. "I knew we could count on you, Your Grace."