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

Why we failed pt. 38 A Wolf in the Night

Why we failed 100 years ago pt. 38

A Wolf in the Night

The dark unknown awoke Jun in his sleep swarming him in a blanket of restlessness he had since it happened. Sleep did not come easy, not with the guilt pressing against his ribs like a blade turned inward. After all, she was in another tent, alone and afraid. He wondered if he should go to her, explain himself, or at least whisper some words of comfort even if they may just be lies. The very least to confess why he had done what he did.

It wasn't all my fault... he told himself again, as he had a dozen times since they dragged her from that lonely alleyway; raindrops mingling with her tears.

They were the ones who brought the war to us. They did this. It's their fault. They were the ones who drew first blood. I only... I only obeyed. I only did my duty. It's not my fault she was born on the wrong side of history.

But the excuses rang hollow in the chill. He lay beside his rucksack with the bitter taste of ash still clinging to the back of his throat, the remnant of the fire that had burned down to little more than a smolder. The campfire had guttered out at last, leaving only a wisp of grey smoke, thin as a ghost, dancing into the cloudy night sky.

The boy's ear twitched at the faintest rustle in the brush. He lifted his head, peering across the canyon. Through the rift of clouds, the half-moon spilled a pale wash of silver-grey over the swaying treetops, making shadows waver like phantoms. A cold shiver overtook him and he slid up where he lay.

"Movement?" he whispered under his breath, blinking hard.

Nothing. Only branches rocking in the valley wind.

Mayhaps it was my eyes... playing tricks again. Or mayhaps, I should forget this folly and get back to sleep.

After a moment he decided to roll on his back, watching the smoky wisp climb and fade into the black. The cold air had a bite, carrying with it the damp smell of moss and stone. The canyon walls loomed like sentinels, the twin peaks behind them jagged against the star-flecked dark. He drew the blanket tighter about his shoulders. Dawn would come soon enough. He needed his wits about him.

The clan comes first. Always.... My people before myself. My people before her.

And yet... his gaze kept drifting toward the tent where Zelda lay prisoner. One hand bound to an iron stake hammered deep into the earth, the chain fixed with bells that would chime at the slightest tug. He pictured her there—eyes weary, hair tangled from the wind, body curled against the cold canvas walls. She had behaved earlier, so they allowed her the dignity of solitude. But was solitude any mercy? Or another new form of cruelty? To be left alone without any friends or loved ones to console you through your silent misery.

Jun swallowed hard.

He wanted to tell her. To tell her why. To beg her not to look at him that way again—those eyes, like green stars fallen from grace, wide and broken, that had pierced through every lie he'd been taught. Eyes that made him feel less Yiga, and more... something else. Something shameful. Almost human again.

He shut his own eyes and pressed the heel of his palm against his brow. If I tell her the truth, if I comfort her even once, then I betray the clan. If I do nothing, I betray myself.

The struggle gnawed at him until at last he gave up the thought. He rolled onto his side for a final time, shoving his sack under his head for a pillow, facing away from the burnt firepit, forcing his body to rest. No. Forget her. Forget her sadness. She is the enemy. That's what they said she is, right? It was...her family's doing.