There exists a power that has dwelled in the land of Hyrule for countless millennia. It is the power that helped create the land, one that is coveted by many. Every few thousand years, three people are fortunate-or perhaps unfortunate-enough to rece...
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A gentle breeze graced Link's face as he stirred awake, lightly ruffling his hair. Thin fronds of grass brushed against his skin, and leaves rustled above his head. He could imagine the scenery around him, an open field or a sprawling forest. A slight smile crept onto his face. He was in his element, where he truly belonged.
And yet... None of this felt right. It didn't feel right in the slightest, but Link didn't know why. He couldn't have been more content. It was the calmest he'd felt in days, weeks, even. He wanted to dismiss the nagging feeling and drift away, become part of the breeze himself.
No, Link... a rough yet sweet voice—a woman's—whispered from nearby. Link's smile slipped away. Did he know her? He felt he'd heard this woman's voice before, years ago. Not yet... she spoke again. An aura washed over him then, one he both didn't recognize but somehow knew, like it was an instinct. I miss you greatly, but you need to leave. I'll send you off. The aura engulfed him, warm and comforting. Link knew who it was.
"M-ma?" The name escaped him in a dry rasp as Link truly awoke. The soothing warmth from the aura was still there, but it quickly grew into an uncomfortable heat. It seeped down to his bones, coursing through his body and coming to a boil in his churning, aching stomach. He stifled a groan. The pain was no longer sharp, it had turned into a deep, raw ache. It hurt to even breathe.
Link's muscles protested when he tried to move, and his eyelids were heavy as he opened them. There was no idyllic field or forest clearing, and that wonderful breeze had long since vanished. All around him were what looked like cloth walls that lightly fluttered, dyed orange by an oil lantern that provided the only light. He could only guess that he was in a tent of some kind.
He was laying on the ground on a padded bedroll, a thin pillow propping up his head. To his right was a row of glass bottles atop a plank of wood, probably to keep them all level. The lack of windows made Link feel claustrophobic, and the tent flap across from him was the only way out. He wanted so badly to move, but his body wouldn't allow it. It was like nearly every drop of energy had been wrung from him. All he could do was lay there, trying to not squirm from the discomfort that consumed every part of him. Why did he feel so awful?
That one question conjured a flood of others, all without clear answers. The most obvious one was how he was even in this situation in the first place? He was sure he was about to be devoured by the Cacturne, yet here he was, feeling sick to his core but still alive. That meant someone had found him and was somehow able to save him.
The movement of an aura somewhere outside stirred Link's senses back to awareness, and he stiffened when it approached the tent. He forced himself to move, teeth tearing into his lip as his wound cried out in agony. A pathetic cry escaped him as he clutched a hand to his stomach, which had been buried under a layer of bandages. He'd been stripped down to his undershorts, his tunic having been thoroughly ruined. But the state of Saria's gift was the least of his worries.
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