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

Why we failed pt.24 The Flame and the Fountain

Chapter

Why we failed pt. 24

The Flame and the Fountain

Zelda stood mesmerized, eyes wide as the shimmering cascade of water displayed a clear, astonishing projection of the trials unfolding deep within the Forest of Dark Whispers. Each droplet sparkled like liquid crystal, painting vivid scenes before the breathless spectators gathered around the majestic fountain.

In one flickering image, an initiate stumbled frantically through tangled branches strung thick with silvery webs, sword slashing desperately against a swarm of dog-sized spiders crawling swiftly across bark and leaf. The grotesque creatures, to her recollection, resembled what she could only remember from fables as-Ghoma spawn, by the looks of them. But that couldn't be so? Could it? They were believed to be long extinct and haven't existed since the Age of Heroes when the Holy KNIGHTs of Skyfyre burnt their underground nests in the deep pits and mines under the dying mountains of stone; creating the great chasm known as the Mouth of Demise today.

They clicked menacingly, their ruby eyes gleaming hungrily, sharp mandibles snapping toward the terrified boy. She couldn't tell who he was, but nevertheless drew her hand up to her mouth in frightened awe.

Beside her, Robbie gasped softly, adjusting his glasses in fascinated horror. "I may be speaking too soon, but are those...Ghomites?" he muttered, half-awed, half-disgusted. "It can't be. Well, in any case, nasty things. He'll be lucky to keep all his limbs at this rate," he finished with a shiver.

Zelda shuddered involuntarily as well, turning her gaze anxiously to the next shifting scene cascading on the water. Another initiate of the guard wandered aimlessly, visibly disoriented, through an oppressive maze of fog-drenched shrubbery. His pointed sword barely pierced the dense mist, casting ghostly silhouettes that seemed to whisper and mock him from every shadowed corner. He looked on the verge of panic; a once-tan lad Zelda knew from afar now pale as sour milk with fear.

"Poor chap," Purah murmured, clicking her tongue sympathetically. "He could wander those shrubs until dawn and never find the flame. What sort of cruel test is this, by the way?" she said, looking to the princess for an explanation, seeing that it was her ancestors who had orchestrated this whole ordeal as some majestic test.

Just as she spoke, a vibrant red arrow streaked upward through the darkening sky, startling Zelda into hopping back where she stood. Then came another and another. Soon the sky sang with shooting stars of crimson flames illuminating the twilight canopy above the projection. Several cadets had surrendered, she knew, and the waterfall shimmered briefly to display one after the other; their defeated forms slumped against a gnarled oak, despair clear in their downcast eyes.

Zelda's breath hitched suddenly, dread curling uncomfortably within her chest. She scanned every droplet anxiously, searching each fleeting image for one familiar face.

Helmsworth was nowhere to be found. Not in the trial, nor in retreat.

"He's not there..." she whispered softly, dread stealing strength from her voice. "I-I don't see Helmsworth. But-but how? Where could he be?"

Purah folded her arms casually, though her voice held an edge of snarky curiosity. "Maybe your knight's just slate-view shy, Your Grace-or perhaps the forest is saving the best for last."

Purah's eyes softened slightly at the princess's visible distress, though she quickly masked it behind her playful smirk.

Zelda turned sharply, eyes narrowing at her careless tone, her voice tight. "This is no joke, Purah. He could be hurt. Or worse."