The Snow Maiden

The Release of Shadow

He remembered how the water felt so cool against his wounds, though the pain was exhilarating. He had failed his master, but that rush of bloodlust facing his original, though far from happy, had been the first solid thing he had felt since his world began. Link. He knew him better than he knew himself out of instinct. Through that, he finally had a sense of himself. He was simply everything Link was not. Not heroic, not good, not kind, not self-sacrificing, not peaceable...

Yet why did he still feel so numb and lost?

Blood tinted the water about him. He thought it strange that, being a shadow, he should bleed. He watched it swirl as he waited for what he knew must come.

A swirl of black. Another shadow formed before him, tall and broad-shouldered. He watched it move towards him in the reflection of the water.

"You failed."

He said nothing to his master. He even knew him more than he knew himself. His master was not to be refused or ignored. But he didn't know what to say.

"Get up."

There were no 'cannots' with Ganon. He forced his bleeding, trembling legs beneath him and stood tall and stronger than he was.

"Sheath your sword."

He did so and kept his eyes to the sorcerer's midriff.

"I had such high expectations for you, boy. But, I can't merely kill you, it would be a waste of magic. Perhaps I'll find use for you in the future."

The familiar, acidic smell of his master's dark magic surrounded him and he found himself, for the first time, feeling afraid. It was strange, for he hadn't felt frightened when the hero had his sword to his chest and murder in his eyes. Then he had known his original was good-hearted and merciful and would never kill a fallen opponent unless he had to save others. But his master on the other hand...

He closed his eyes tightly, readying for pain, knees weakening. When nothing came and he opened his eyes, he found himself in the deepest of darkness, chains about his wrists and ankles and the smothering smell of miles of earth above him. His body still ached with wounds.

"Master,-"

"Don't fear, the magic that makes up your body will not allow you to bleed to death," said the disembodied voice. "Or rather, I should say, I won't let you bleed to death. But think of this pain as part of your punishment."

He heard rustling in the darkness. His heart leaped to his throat.

The raucous laugh of the dark-skinned man filled the darkness. The rustling grew louder. Dark Link couldn't see anything. He could feel the prickle of long legs against his throat. He reached frantically for his sword, but the chains stopped him. His master had told him to sheath his sword...

"I thought you said you weren't going to kill me!"

"I'm not."

Pain shoot through his back as tiny fangs pierced his neck. He screamed. Stars flashed before his vision. His legs buckled.

And somewhere within all the torture, he remembered shaking a bleeding knight and running from a woman with two, dark-haired girls at her side. He remembered a little house he didn't know, a sky so blue it hurt his eyes, and the rich smell of horses.

He didn't want to kill. That's why he didn't want to become a mere soldier.

The next thing he knew he was waking up from a daze of darkness and pain to the faint light of day. Above him was a roof of rubble that somehow hadn't bothered to kill him. The chains were gone, as were the monsters that had fed on him. He squinted up and saw blue. He could no longer smell that acidic magic.

Instinctively, he knew his master was gone, though far from dead. He looked down at his black gauntlets and wondered about his strange dreams. Then, forcing his weak body forward, he tore at the rocks above him and out into the first clear day he had seen in a while. A ways away he could see a familiar green figure with a beautiful blond woman walking away from the wreckage.

His original.

Swaying, he limped after him. He was his shadow, after all.