Tears of a Broken Kingdom

Chapter Twenty-six ~ Who she was

The dawn had slid into a bleak morning, silent as the grave. Zelda hadn't even attempted sleep, despite how exhausted she was.

The sky was extremely overcast from the smoke and the ash that floated in the sky. The sunlight seemed to be a pale grey with the smallest tint of yellow, barely able to penetrate the thick layer of clouds.

Despite the other survivors near her, the feeling of isolation still creeped into her. It was so quiet. Lifeless, even. Despair had long gone wormed it's way into her, and Zelda had spent most of the early hours of the morning contemplating what she was to do.

There was never any clarifying realization she'd had. There wasn't anything miraculous she could do. She wasn't any different than the others, she knew that. They were all stuck in this nightmare, although no one but her was responsible.

Like before, Zelda could only think of survival as what to do. Help the injured, try to find a safe haven.

The curiosity begged to be let out, scratching her up. It was what she really wanted, to be in the pursuit of this enigma. But there were other priorities. She had to let the rest go. The unnecessary.

Why did that seem so hard?

>*<

Things took a turn for the worse as the day progressed.

It was later and those injured required another treatment of water, however little it helped, was still something.

"Something's wrong with the water!" A shout rang out, the dim chatter sputtered out.

Zelda got up too fast, a small bout of dizziness overtook her, the world pitched and swayed. She was still able to see the red on the Hylian's palm, a deep crimson that had taken to running  languid rivers down their arm. Water wasn't slow, thick, like that. And of course, it wasn't red.

She felt the blood drain from her face as she saw the dark stain it left. That the blood left.

Many went over to the rivers edge, dipping their hands into the blood, staring at the liquid that ran down in rivulets down from their palms.

Zelda stayed put, she didn't want to touch it. There was enough blood she'd dealt with already. It sent her back, to the cuts and injuries that had catapulted her here.

There had been enough blood.

She'd already examined Ash's head injury, which had finally begun to clot. It had been worse than she'd thought but even with her small knowledge in injuries she doubted any internal damage had been done. A small rock must've punctured through his skin, hit something important like an artery or a vein, but hadn't hurt his brain or skull. That was something good.

A general panic was spreading through the survivors, blood stained on hands.

"Where are we going to get water? We'll die without it!"

Whispers snapped at the silence like whips and Zelda could feel the anxiety like a violent pulse in the air. Zelda scrabbled around her head for a solution, trying to keep her breathing even and slow. It wasn't time to cry, wasn't time to panic. If she really was to be leader, she had to act like one for once.

Didn't she have the power? Half asleep within her, sure, but wasn't it still something? Whatever this power was, Zelda hadn't used it in years. Life had gone on without it and it had fled her memory.

Was it meant to be that she remembered now?

As if by intuition far greater than her own, Zelda went over to the river's edge, staring into the stream of blood. The metallic scent flooded her nostrils and made it hard to breathe, overpowered and nauseating.

Her hands stood parallel above the river, fingers splayed, taut in concentration.

Zelda tried to ignore the eyes on her, tried to let the power course through her, although she'd forgotten how. She was so out of practice, the feeling alien.

A feeling tugged at her, a half-known thought of some sort, a lost memory that had resurfaced. A divine intervention, perhaps.

A weak light shot out of her open palms, the brightness grew as she held her hands over the blood, she peered down at the river with curious eyes. The light penetrated the blood, and the thick liquid began to thin out, the red losing opacity, the liquid appeared more as more clear. Clear?

Is that water?

"Quick! Does anybody have a water skin?"

It was a risk to her concentration, but she managed to keep the purification going, sweat formed beads on her forehead despite the cold.

A rustle in the small crowd led to a water skin being found and placed beside Zelda.

Zelda kept her hands over the "water" a few seconds longer, watching the light fade from her hands. It'd only done a small section, and she quickly fumbled to fill the water skin in fear that the blood would seep back into her purified patch.

Everyone's eyes were filled with a light, as if the fire in their eyes had been relit. It was hope.

Zelda stood up, the water skin clutched tightly in her hands. The fear of failure hung over her.

"I'm... well," she cleared her throat, attempted composure, "I'm not sure it worked, it might not be water."

"Just try it!" someone yelled as others began to shout as well.

She opened the skin and let herself take a small sip, worried somehow she'd made some sort of poisonous liquid instead. It went down easily enough, somehow cold and refreshing. So it was water after all.

Zelda closed the water skin and nodded in silent consent.

"Well I'll be! She actually did it!" Another person said, Zelda felt her face flush with embarrassment but she ignored it and allowed herself a stoic smile.

Zelda handed the water skin to the nearest person, wondering if her father would have been proud of her. This was going to be hard work, but she felt cut out for it. This was what she had to do.

Exhaustion hit her hard when she made it back to Ashton. It was an unrelenting wave, dragged her down to its depths. It didn't matter though, Zelda had a purpose now, if she had to use that power to make water a thousand times more and suffer the exhaustion, she'd do it.

The excited cries of the survivors had quieted and her eyelids drooped. Was it even worth it to wage a fight against sleep? There was no use fighting the current, no use fighting sleep.

"It'll be okay Mom, you can sleep now."

Her son's voice was the last thing she heard before she felt herself slip off.

In her last moments in full consciousness, she wondered if he would've been proud. If she'd been strong like him, for once. And she hoped yes.