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Part 1

There were a lot of secrets Time swore he will take to his grave.

He's thought about sharing them with Malon. He knew she would never turn him away, never judge, and she would try to understand to the best of her ability. But there were some things not even Time has come to grips with, and there was no way was he going to taint his wife with the horrors he's endured. Or will endure.

He knew he was going to meet a violent end.

He knew his soul will wander the earth until he meets up with a young, inexperienced Twilight.

He knew his name and face and the heroic deeds he's done will eventually be forgotten.

He was the Hero of Time. Of course he fucking knew.

It wasn't just his own skeletons he's harboring. He's well aware of the other little unsaid stories of his counterparts.

Legend dreamed about Marin nearly every single night. Part of it was torture for him, not knowing if it was real or not. As much as he wanted the dreams to end so he could finally move on with his life, he's also deadly afraid for the day they will.

Hyrule was literally one of the strongest heroes here but due to his self-doubt, he tended to think of his successes as luck rather than skill. He didn't want to share stories of his adventures in fear of sounding uninspiring though he would easily impress the socks off of everyone here.

Wind loved being part of this group. It made him feel like an adult and he wanted to know everything about them all. Unlike Hyrule Wind had confidence in his skills and boasted about them whenever he got the chance. But just like Hyrule, he thought his abilities were nothing compared to everyone else.

Was it invasive and unsettling that Time was privy to all of their deepest secrets and most guarded thoughts? Certainly. Did he care? Not really. Besides, he was capable of keeping his mouth shut.

Then there was Wild.

The Champion. The Hero who slept for a hundred years. The kid with no past. Time didn't know what to make of him. It was hard to know his secrets if the kid himself wasn't sure what was supposed to be a secret. Did he love that Zora princess? Was it really his fault the Calamity won? What happened a hundred years ago? Wild had no idea.

Time also had issues with that Slate of his.

All the heroes had their unique items they've collected along the way. When they all first met, they proudly showed them off, impressed by what they could do. Time himself was a fan of Sky's Mogma Mitts, the interesting gloves that could burrow through dirt and rock.

The Slate was unlike anything else they've ever seen. The endless supply of bombs, the magnetism, the photographs. It was a very impressive item.

Then on that night when they were all sharing their masks, Time began to see the Slate with greater suspicion.

He only had the Mask of Truth on for less than thirty seconds. In that moment, Time was bombarded with so much information he thought his head was going to explode. It was like someone was screaming at him at all sides as the world around him spun out of control. His stomach turned, his brain lit aflame with needling burning pain, and he had no choice but to take off the mask or else suffer the consequences.

"Are you okay?" Someone asked him.

Time put away the mask, a pounding headache forming behind his eyes. "Ah, that's enough for me."

The old man has been a Hero long enough to recognize danger when he saw it. He stared down at Wild's Sheikah Slate as the last portion of information echoed through his mind.

-someone will die-

***

Usually the others didn't bother Wild when he was busy with dinner. The kid enjoyed the alone time, humming to himself as he chopped vegetables and added seasoning. The others were busy with their own projects, not crowding around the camp fire. It gave Time an amble opportunity to speak to Wild alone.

Hanging off of Wild's hip was his Slate. He never took it off.

"Hey," said Time, taking a seat next to Wild. "Can I help?"

"I'm alright," said Wild. He poured in red wine, turning the stew into a lovely plum color. "Thanks though."

A beat.

"Okay, I'm not going to beat around the bush for this. I think your Slate is evil."

Wild barked out a startled laugh. "Are you kidding me?" He said. "Wow, of all the things I expected you to say... My Slate isn't 'evil'! It's just a tool, no different that a bow or shield."

"I think it's more than that," said Time. "I think it has a mind of its own, has its own agenda-"

"The Slate has been with me since I woke up." Wild patted it affectionately. "I think I would notice by now if there's something wrong with it."

Time sighed. "You don't know the Sheikah like I do. They're not sinless. You of all people should know how easily their items can be turned against their masters."

Wild paused, his lips thinning.

"So I guess we're doing this," he said. He tapped his serving spoon on the side of the pot, put it aside and finally turned to face Time. "Like I said, I've been using this Slate since I woke up. It has never turned against me. It has saved my life multiple times. What proof do you have that it has ill intentions?"

"That night when we compared masks? I heard its true voice giving a ominous prophecy."

"You're saying its sentient? Like the Master Sword?"

"I'm saying it has more information than it lets on."

"Is there a chance you misheard?"

Time's face darkened. "No."

"Hmmm..." Wild turned back to his stew. "Sorry, that's not enough proof. I've dealt with 'ominous prophecies' before. You shouldn't believe everything you hear."

Time closed his eyes. He was not one for prayer, but in this instance, he asked Saria for the strength of what he was about to do next. He opened his eyes and said, "Nor do I blame you for believing that. But do understand where I'm coming from. I know a cursed item when I see it. And now that I see you're going to be difficult, I won't give you a chance to say goodbye."

Wild stiffened. "What-"

That's all he got out before Time grabbed hold of the Sheikah Slate, and with his other hand, slammed his open palm against Wild's chest.

Wild flew back halfway across the camp, his body skipping off the ground like a stone, before crashing against the trees surrounding them. He crumpled to the forest floor, clutching his chest. The wind had been knocked out of him.

With the Sheikah Slate in hand, Time stood up. "I'm sorry," he said.

He summoned the strength of his gauntlets, and as easily as snapping a dry twig, he cracked the Sheikah Slate into two. The broken screen flashed several images, the last one of Zelda, then powered down forever.

***

a/n: for those who don't know, someone had translated what was said in 

https://linkeduniverse.tumblr.com/post/184469663604/masks-pt-2-of-2-previous-next-based-on

and it said "someone will die" in tiny script. everything else is just computer lingo