The Legend of Zelda: Children of Destiny(English)

Prologue

The wind started howling stronger. The sand was beginning to insistently infiltrate under the cape, scratching her skin. Impa grumbled: a sandstorm was coming. Not that she was scared, she had survived worse, way worse. But it was still a nuisance. Better hurry up to reach the nearest oasis and find shelter until the weather had calmed down.

An undefined sound caught her attention. Before trying to find out where it was coming from, Impa had already unsheathed her knives. She looked around, ready to face any desert's beast, but nothing was there. The sand kept rising in the air, covering the sight. Any minute she was wasting out there meant a harder chance of finding the oasis. She was about to resume her journey, when the sound repeated again, more clearly this time, brought by the wind: it was a voice... no, a cry. A child's cry. Still holding her knives, Impa made her way through the sand curtain wrapping around her.

And there he was, curled up on a stone in the middle of the desert, abandoned to die. A Gerudo newborn. A male.

Impa broke into a bitter laughter: would it have been just a few months before, she would have killed him without a second thought. A baby male Gerudo meant only one thing: a future Demon King, an omen of calamity for Hyrule. A menace for the Royal family. That was certainly why he had been abandoned there by his people, people he should have been destined to rule. But nowadays everybody knew the destiny of the three chosen ones and nobody wanted to risk another war. Impa too was tired of fighting. For this reason she had left, searching for freedom.

The child started crying louder. Perhaps he didn't know it was all worthless, perhaps he didn't know that nobody wanted him alive. Or maybe he simply didn't care. Raising his little fists to the sky, he kept crying louder and louder, almost as he was trying to challenge the sandstorm. Newly born and already prepared to fight. Such a shame that his battle would have ended so soon.

Despite it all, Impa couldn't help herself to not feel sorry for him: she knew the legends about the Demon King and the destiny of the three chosen ones better than anyone else, but what was before her eyes in that moment was just a child. A child about to die.

The king's words echoed through her head once again. In a burst of rage she took off her scarf and wrapped it around the child, hiding his little red tufts of hair. She had already made her choice when she had left the palace: she would have never played by their rules again.

She held the child tight on her chest, sheltering him under her cape and resumed her journey through the sandstorm.