Fortune Favors the Courageous

Chapter 29: Fruition Part 2

Lake Totori was beneath the bridge.

Were there rocks down there, too? He couldn't remember. But she had to have landed in the water. She had to be alive.

She had to be alive, yet a piece of Link died when he watched her plummet. He wasn't the praying type, but in that moment, he was praying to Hylia, Din, Farore and Nayru and anyone else who'd listen—that the missing piece of his heart wasn't an indicator of the outcome of her fall. But this Gods damned fog was blocking his view of the lake, and he had no way of knowing.

He wasn't sure if his voice was stuck in his throat or the ringing in his head simply drowned out the sound of her name as he screamed it down into the clouds, but it didn't matter either way—his lungs still compacted every liter of air available in order for his voice to reach her, to get her to answer. But instead they just burned with absence.

Next came the horrid coughing.

When his entire vision grew dizzy, Link crawled backwards off the bridge—distributing his weight evenly like Zelda taught him during the Ring Ruins' collapse—until he felt the cool grass spring up in the space between his fingers. Still, his vision twisted at a funny angle, like he himself was falling.

It should've been him. Not her.

His lunch suddenly threatened to come up, but he clapped a hand over his mouth. He fought to keep the vomit down, but his lungs heaved into a coughing fit instead, which then segued into a heaving from his stomach he couldn't combat.

After spitting out the last of the foul aftertaste in his mouth, he began to breathe in through his nose—one, two, three, four—and out through his mouth—one, two, three, four. Coughed once, then continued. One, two, three, four.

As his mind began to straighten out, he remembered the weight in his pocket with a starburst of hope between his ribs.

Fuck the malice in his lungs. Fuck Rito Village. Fuck whatever their plan had been, he didn't even remember. He was going after the princess. He had no idea how big the drop from the bridge was, but he didn't care. If he got there fast enough, he could give her the fairy.

He moved quickly but carefully to the edge, seeking a foothold by the feeling alone. Unfortunately, there weren't a lot. The cliff face here was stupidly steep. Still, he kept searching till he found one for his left foot. Now to find one for the right—

That's when he started to cough again, and the grass began sliding through his fingers. As his upper body dragged towards the ledge, he dug his elbow into the ground and hauled his waist back up, despite the coughing.

Not good. It was too dangerous to climb this angle of a cliff with unpredictable lungs. But, if he found somewhere less steep, he could afford to have his fingers slip a little.

If he could see the damn water, he'd just jump. Hylia knows he'd leapt from dangerously high cliffs countless times at the beach to impress Mom and Aryll—

But more so than the inability to gauge the fall through the fog, he couldn't afford to miss hitting the water if there were rocks waiting down there too. Not if he needed to use the fairy on Zelda—who still hadn't answered.

So he began jogging clockwise around the perimeter of the drop, looking for anywhere more favorable to climb. If he was lucky, maybe he'd find something more akin to steps.

But every minute he traveled in futile search of a better route was another minute Zelda waited at the bottom, condition unknown.

She was resilient, he kept telling himself. If he knew anything about his princess, she would figure out her own, incredible way to handle the injuries. She'd probably sew her wounds together with spider's thread, fashion a splint out of rip currents and birdsong, harvest sunlight for an elixir to take her pain away—