(Zelink) The Legend of Zelda and the Last knight- Swords and Roses

Why we failed pt.22 Nightfall Approaches

Why we failed pt. 22

Nightfall Approaches

"Take your marks!" Athelon's voice roared across the clearing, cutting through the sunset like a knife's edge. The old veteran stood behind them, shoulders squared, face illuminated by the line of torches glowing. The sun began its descent into the west, now obstructed by the stands, marking the beginning of their fate.

Link stood among the other pledges, their silhouettes stark against the torchlit meadow's edge. The tall grass whispered against his greaves, each blade damp with a foretelling of evening dew. He could smell the tension in the air, bitter and taut, as if the land itself held its breath. Ahead rose the forest line, a ragged sentinel of ancient oaks and tangled vines that wove so thick and high they devoured the coming sunset overhead. The murmurs from the stands behind him—cheers, hushed wagers, nervous laughter—felt distant now, muffled by the pounding of his own heart. He steadied his grip on his hilt and took his mark, positioning himself as instructed, trying to ignore the flicker of doubt gnawing at the back of his mind. This is it! There's no turning back now!

As Link surveyed the line of his fellow cadets to his left and right—some ten paces apart spread out each of them—he glimpsed their nervous nods and their silent gulps. None of them truly understood what lay beyond that thicket of shadow and silence. Even flames of torches guarding the entrance seemed to balk and lick away in fear from what lies beyond. Link's fist clenched tighter over his blade. He couldn't deny the thrill of fright woven into the moment, a sensation that both chilled and awakened him. His mind soon drifted to all what was at stake and then, he thought of her, of the expectations she carried, and he refused to let this forest, and its terrors break him.

Athelon's grin hardened into something graver, his one good eye scanning them all even as his dead one swirled pale and ominously. "Before you lies your first task," he said, voice dropping low, "and with it, either the dawn of your glory or the dusk of your dreams." He paused, letting that promise settle, the crackle of torches spitting orange sparks into the sunset air. The crowds behind also listened as he gave his farewell.

"Ahead of you now lurks the very shadows of thought," he continued, addressing them all but seeming to stare straight at Link's soul. "More frightening than any monster you've heard sung in tavern ballads, or murmured in old fables, that I assure you." The old man cleared his throat. "This trial is not for the faint of heart. For beyond those trees awaits you is a dance with death itself." The air shivered at his words, and Link's throat went dry.

"So, dance it well, or forever remain lost in its terrible song," Athelon smirked before continuing. Link swallowed hard, tasting a faint tang of metal on his tongue, something old and ominous in the damp breeze.

"Alas, I say this, do not tarry in the mist," Athelon warned, voice stern yet oddly paternal. "Fight against all temptations to waver off the path and guard against any siren song of apparitions genuine or fantasy alike that may ensnare you. Be wary of creeping crawling critters of the underbrush and night-stalking phantoms. Dangers all of them. For inside that grey void, if you falter, forces ancient as time will seize upon your doubts and lure you to your demise. Your safety is not guaranteed in the shadows beyond."

Some pledges stiffened at the stark revelation and Athelon continued his warning. "So to those who find themselves tarrying or unwilling to venture further, you will find that there is only but one retreat—just one."

He raised a calloused finger skyward. "If fright takes you or if reason fails, strike a flint against a pitch-soaked arrow and send your firebolt to the heavens. My Rito friend here says scouts will be patrolling the skies above the tree line, ready to pluck you from the jaws of fate." Athelon assured, pointing over to Revali who stood near him, looking disinterested like a disgruntled cleanup crew.