Modern Legends: A Hero's Spirit
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- Parts 23
The thrilling conclusion to the Modern Legends trilogy. Still editing.
You never appreciate the time you've been given until it's running out.
Alex knows this better than anyone; he used to be someone who tolerated life and what it threw at him. Then, things happened. Things changed; he changed. Too late, it would seem, though--for the countdown clock on Alex's life, as well as the safety of Hyrule, has begun. Ganondorf and his minions have returned to Hyrule, and Alex, the only one who can wield the Master Sword and defeat them, has had his soul torn apart.
Meanwhile, back home in Three Hills, Missouri, present day, Alex's twin is having just as many problems. His life seems perfect-- nothing unusual ever happens, he gets good grades, and he and Celia are finally together. But beneath the surface, trouble lurks--for here, too, Alex is slowly dying. Dizzy spells, date scrambles, and even forgetting names he's known his whole life--soon, even Alex is starting to feel like part of him is missing.
The race against the clock is on. Will Alex be able to save his friends? Hyrule? But most of all, himself?
Many thanks to plasticparadox for the cover.
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"He's the deadliest swordsman in all of Hyrule. The most skilled. He wields a blade of legend. You should be protecting me from him." By the time those words were uttered, it was already too late. The princess kept a wary eye on the half-eaten apple that he had set back down on his bedside writing desk. He seemed oblivious to the twisted symbolism of it all. Forbidden fruit. The poisoned apples of the fairytales that their governess read to them as children. Could he really be so blind? The people rejoiced in the streets of Castle Town. They made gracious offerings in the plowing fields of the southern provinces, nestled against the far stretches of Faron Woods. The Kingdom of Hyrule celebrated the newfound peace after the plight of the Twili, and the final death of Ganondorf. They looked to the skies and they saw a god. He became a vessel for their torment. He grieved for them. He carried their burden on his shoulders. The weight of that weapon, of which had singed its mark deeply into the palm of his hand, would never leave him. The hushed voices of the scorned spirits resonated within the blade, their whispers lilting and lamenting in his ears. Those damned voices dissipated everytime that seraph prince held him in his soft gaze.
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