Revelation

The tremors grew more intense. Massive rocks threatened to crush them as they sprinted toward the well. Link and Mineru exchanged anxious glances while running at full speed, desperately trying to avoid being caught in the collapse. Their unspoken question was the same—what had triggered the trap? Had they unknowingly activated it?

Suddenly, Link's ears picked up a muffled laugh echoing behind one of the walls. "That laugh… I've heard it before, but I can't remember where…" Then, something yellowish with black spots caught his eye, partially crushed beneath one of the fallen boulders. "What is that? It looks like—"

There was no time to investigate. Link pushed the thought aside and refocused on the immediate goal: reaching safety.

At last, the sages and Link reached the edge of the well, breathless. Their sweat-drenched bodies and ragged breathing bore witness to their frantic escape. Before them, the dark void of the well gaped open like a ravenous maw.

—Link! The well! We're almost there!—one of the sages shouted with restrained relief as the tremors gradually subsided.

Taking advantage of the brief respite, they sat for a moment to catch their breath and retrieved their gliders from their backpacks, preparing for the descent. But Link found no rest. Something about this place unsettled him deeply. Latent memories, hidden within the abyss's shadows, seemed to call to him. With a restless heart, he paced around the edge, unable to tear his gaze away from the depths.

—Link, are you alright?—the sages looked at him with concern; they had never seen the Hero so uneasy.

Before he could answer, the tremors started again, this time much stronger. The group instinctively took a step back. The vibrations were so intense that massive rocks rained down around them. The entire place threatened to collapse upon them.

—Move! —shouted Link, regaining his composure— We have no time!

One by one, they leaped into the opening, trying to keep their distance from each other. But the tremors grew even stronger, and more and more rocks began falling from the ceiling. Within seconds, the passage leading to the mural chamber was completely blocked.

Sidon was the last to jump. He had barely descended a few meters when a massive boulder sealed off the well's entrance with a deafening crash that left them frozen. Darkness enveloped them like a dense, oppressive shroud.

As they slid down the well's walls, the echoes of their descent were swallowed by the darkness, engulfed in a silence that seemed to dominate the void. Link kept his breathing controlled, but he couldn't shake the feeling that the air grew heavier with each meter they descended.

Suddenly, a tremor rippled through the walls of the well. It was not a common quake but something deeper, as if the earth itself were breathing, exhaling its malevolence toward them.

A whisper floated through the air, incomprehensible and distant, like a stream of voices that faded before they could grasp their meaning. Fear, dark and rooted, seeped into their bones.

The well was deep, and the fall felt endless. The air became denser by the second, thick with dust and dread. As they plummeted, the silence was broken only by the sound of their bodies cutting through the air and brushing against the tunnel walls.

Time seemed to stretch into an unbearable eternity, the darkness consuming them as they fell. The wind they stirred turned into a freezing current, and the only sound was the pounding of their hearts, beating wildly in their chests. Fear gripped them, the anguish of the unknown weighing down on their spirits.

At last, they reached the bottom of the well, and the fall ended with a jarring impact. They landed awkwardly, struggling to catch their breath.

Link was the first to touch the ground, his landing smooth, the weight of his body softened by the descent. The moment his feet met the ground, he moved quickly, stepping away from the well to make space for the others. He could not afford even a moment of rest. But as he advanced, he stumbled over something in the dark terrain. At first, he thought it was just another fragment of the surrounding gloom, an illusion born of the shadows. But upon closer inspection, his eyes locked onto a forgotten object, nearly hidden by the darkness: a torch, its cracked wooden body still bearing traces of its past use.

His hands, trembling from exhaustion and desperation, reached for it at once. He struck the flint against the base with clumsy movements until a spark ignited the cold air.

The flame, though flickering at first, began to dance, casting elongated shadows across the ground and revealing a nearby object. A metallic glimmer, almost ethereal, faintly shone in the dim light. Intrigued, Link stepped closer, the torchlight trembling in his hand, casting golden reflections upon what lay on the ground. There it was—a golden hair clip, so delicate and precise that it seemed like a flower plucked from the wind itself. The engraving of a blue and white flower, carved with such finesse that it could only have belonged to Zelda.

A deep ache settled in his chest. It was Zelda's. She had lost it the day she disappeared, yet now, this small object appeared untouched, suspended in time.

As soon as he touched the clip, the world shifted.

The torchlight began to fade, its fire drained by something far greater, until a golden glow enveloped him. Warm and gentle, like an embrace, it illuminated everything with an almost unreal serenity. A faint echo, like a whisper, reached his ears—the sound of a water droplet falling onto a pond, its impact soft and eternal, as if the universe itself were listening.

Reality unraveled around him.

Link felt space dissolve, and in its place, a blurred, ethereal vision unfolded before him, as if memories were invisible currents floating in the air. The flower on the clip now glowed with its own light, casting soft sparkles, as if inviting Link to step into the stream of time, to walk the path of what was lost. Around him, echoes of past voices began to fill the void, soft, almost inaudible. Zelda was there, in every corner, in every sigh of the wind.

The first thing he saw was his home in Hateno, the one he had acquired during the days of preparation for the fight against the Calamity. It was the same place where he had taken Zelda, exhausted and afraid, after rescuing her from her century-long confinement. The images showed him the moments they shared while preparing for the mission assigned by Purah: investigating a mysterious fissure beneath the ruins of Hyrule Castle, from which a corrupting substance seeped, sickening anyone who came into contact with it. He also fondly remembered a stop at a nearby stable, where they shared a simple yet meaningful meal before continuing their journey.

During that breakfast, a conversation emerged that left Link deep in thought.

"Honestly, I really enjoy eating outdoors when the weather is nice," Link's voice echoed serenely. "Even when I'm at Lookout Landing, I often have breakfast watching the sunrise."

Zelda looked at him in surprise.

"How is it possible that you've never invited me when you visit Hateno?"

"I…" Link hesitated, a blush rising to his face. "I wasn't sure if you'd want to… You're always busy with matters of the kingdom."

It wasn't discomfort he felt. Rather, the simple idea of sharing such an intimate moment with her filled him with a mix of longing and nervousness.

Zelda let out a soft, warm, and sincere laugh.

"Well then, consider this an order: next time, I want to have breakfast with you while watching the sunrise."

"Deal," Link responded, his face even redder, but unable to suppress a smile.

The image faded, leaving a gentle warmth in Link's chest. The thought of sharing such a special moment with her made his heart race.

However, he couldn't remain lost in that thought for long. The memories continued to flow like an unstoppable river. The next thing he saw was a fleeting scene: their arrival at Lookout Landing and, as expected, Purah's usual reprimand for their lateness.

But then everything changed. The images transported him to the depths beneath Hyrule Castle. The atmosphere turned dense, dark, and an unsettling sensation took hold of him.

Link moved through the memories like a rushing river, each image laden with emotion. He saw Zelda, curious and enthusiastic, exploring the ruins of Hyrule Castle. Together, they had descended into the depths, searching for the malice that was corrupting the kingdom. Zelda took photographs of the ancient murals while he kept his sword raised, sensing the looming danger.

The Master Sword shone brightly, alerting of something dark. It was then that Link discovered the Demon King's mummy, frozen by a mysterious metallic arm. Zelda, drawn to Zonnan technology, approached in fascination, ignoring Link's warnings. In her attempt to unravel the secret, a gemstone loosened and fell to the ground, unleashing an explosion of darkness.

Link watched as Zelda fell into the abyss, her scream silenced by the surge of malevolence. Anguish overtook him as he stretched out his hand to save her, but she vanished in a flash before reaching the ground. "That was the last time I saw her," he thought, his heart shattered.

The memory shifted. Now, Link awoke on an island suspended in the sky, confused and with a mechanical arm replacing his lost one. Before him, the white dragon appeared, majestic and serene, carrying a glowing object in its mane. Link stared at it, overwhelmed by a deep sense of nostalgia. Something about that dragon stirred a profound connection within him, as if the very essence of his soul recognized its presence.

Once he had regained some of his strength, Link headed toward the Temple of Time, which rested on the celestial island, where a mysterious altar awaited him at the back. As he approached, the Master Sword began to glow, whispering to Link to place it upon the altar. When he did, a golden light enveloped the sword. As the light faded, the Hero watched in deep concern as the Master Sword disappeared from sight, swallowed by the radiance.

After the sword vanished, the clouds parted, revealing that he was close to Lookout Landing and Hyrule Castle. He needed to return to the kingdom of Hyrule and prepare thoroughly to confront the Demon King as soon as possible.

Launching himself from the celestial island, he planned his descent carefully to land safely in a lake near Lookout Landing.

Upon arrival, he headed directly to the stronghold, where he was received by the leader, Purah, who listened attentively, fascinated by his story. Impressed by all that had transpired, she tasked Link with investigating strange occurrences happening across Hyrule. Solving these mysteries would lead to the awakening of the sages.

During his journey, Link encountered the elder Sheikah leader, who had transferred the leadership of Kakariko to the young Paya while she dedicated her efforts to studying mysterious geoglyphs scattered throughout Hyrule. According to ancient Sheikah records, these geoglyphs contained an enigma regarding an unknown element: the "Tear of the Dragon."

Intrigued, Link began investigating the geoglyphs. He soon noticed something peculiar: each one displayed, in a seemingly random location, a tear-like shape containing a pool filled with golden, mysterious water. The water appeared to be pure light, and upon touching it, Zelda's memories began to reveal themselves to Link, like a distant echo. He saw her, trapped in the past ten thousand years ago, fighting with the same strength and courage that had always defined her. Each of these memories surrounded him, showing him a determined Zelda, unstoppable in her fight for Hyrule.

The first memory showed Zelda arriving in the past, immediately after disappearing into the abyss alongside Link. Dazed, she found herself in a forest, where the first monarchs of Hyrule, Sonia and Rauru, strolled calmly. Surprised, they asked her where she had come from. Sonia, sensing something special about her, explained that she felt the same powers within Zelda as they themselves possessed: the power of time, like her own, and the power of light, like Rauru's. Both forces were amplified by the secret stones they possessed, which made Zelda the Sage of Time and Light.

Link smiled upon seeing the memory for the first time. At least Zelda was safe. A fleeting sense of relief filled his chest, but it quickly faded, replaced by a chilling weight that coursed through him like a cold wave. Ten thousand years... ten thousand years in the past.

The realization hit him hard, like an echo reverberating in his mind. Could her body, after so much time, be anything more than dust, ashes scattered to the wind? The certainty left him motionless for a moment, a cold stillness as that truth settled deep within him.

Despite the pain pressing against him, Link pressed on, collecting the memories. If someone or something was showing him these visions, there was still a spark of hope. Perhaps, in one of these memories, he would find something to guide him—a ritual, an artifact, any clue that could help bring her back.

In one of the memories, Zelda seemed to have quickly adapted to the court of Hyrule's first monarchs. There, alongside Sonia, she trained her abilities as the Sage of Time. The task she had been given seemed simple in theory: avoid being struck.

—Careful!—Sonia's voice rang out sharply, cutting through the wind— Now, activate your power!

Zelda's first attempts were clumsy. She barely managed to freeze the objects hurled at her, and they crashed to the ground with a metallic clang, a cascade of sounds that contrasted with the fragility of her effort.

Exhausted, gasping for breath, Zelda collapsed onto her knees. Her slumped shoulders reflected the weight of her frustration.

—I'm never going to get this right... I'm not meant for this. —Her words escaped her throat as a whisper of despair, laden with discouragement. Doubt clouded her eyes, the shadow of inadequacy wrapping around her.

Link watched the scene with a melancholic smile, a gesture more like an internal sigh than an actual expression. It wasn't the first time he had seen Zelda struggle with her doubts, battling her lack of confidence. Every movement of hers was a reminder of her bravery, but also a mirror of his own helplessness.

Silently, he thought: If I were there, I know you'd get it right on the first try.

He sighed deeply, as if an invisible weight pressed against his chest. His heart wavered between the pride of seeing her grow on her own and the constant ache of not being by her side to support her. Melancholy wrapped around him like a heavy cloak, fueled by the awareness of everything he was missing.

A painful echo emerged in his memory: "How is it possible that you've never invited me when you come to Hateno?"

The phrase, spoken casually over a distant breakfast, struck him like an arrow. The echo of those words resonated in his mind, dragging him toward questions he didn't want to face. Why couldn't he enjoy those moments with her? If the training had taken place in present-day Hyrule, would he have merely stood guard, watching from a distance? But wasn't that his duty? Wasn't that what was expected of him?

The memory continued to play out, slow and relentless, always stopping at the same point. And always, without fail, it led him to the same reflection: Was his relentless desire to be her protector, her hero, precisely what kept him so far from her?

In the memory, Sonia and Zelda, exhausted from training, sat down for a refreshing drink, the cool air cutting through the heaviness of their fatigue. Absentmindedly, Zelda knocked over her lemonade jug. However, before it could spill, Sonia used her power to reverse time, returning the jug and its contents to their original place. As she did, she explained: "The trick is to imagine the object's memories, to visualize where it was and what happened, and return it to its rightful place."

Fascinated, Zelda began to unravel the mystery of time. She gazed at her hands with a mixture of wonder and reverence, as if that simple gesture held the answers she had long sought.

Fascinated, Zelda began to unravel the mystery of time. She looked at her hands with a mixture of awe and reverence, as if that simple gesture could hold the answers she had long yearned for. Her fingers moved slightly, exploring the empty air, as if trying to touch the intangible, to feel the magnitude of the power she knew resided within her.

It was an attempt to comprehend the incomprehensible, to visualize the invisible. How much power could something as fragile and small as her hands contain? The idea was overwhelming, yet profoundly inspiring.

—If only Link could see me... my efforts, my progress... —Zelda murmured, almost unconsciously, her words drifting into the air like a sigh lost in the breeze.

—You think about him a lot, don't you? —Sonia, with a calm smile, stroked her hair as a mother would to her daughter.

Zelda averted her gaze, uncertain.

—I can't help it. It's... Link. He has always been there, silently enduring everything. I know he's strong, and I admire him for that. But sometimes... —She paused, as if the words she needed to say were trapped, refusing to come out—. Sometimes I wish he wasn't so distant. Not just in distance, but... in everything.

For a moment, her voice trembled, but Zelda quickly regained her composure.

—Since I've been here, I feel like I'm rediscovering myself, as if I am finally learning who I am. But at the same time... I wonder if he even thinks about me, if he misses me as much as I miss him.

Her words floated in the air, a whisper filled with longing. There were no words enough to describe the emptiness they carried. She continued speaking with Sonia, but soon, like mist at dawn, the memory began to fade. It was as if something was broken, incomplete. However, what little she could salvage was enough to leave a feeling of emptiness, a tangle of unanswered questions.

"Am I really something more to her, or am I just her hero?" Link wondered, tormented by uncertainty.

He thought about their time together: the laughter, the comfortable silences, the long journeys they had shared. He didn't need titles or grand gestures; he just wished Zelda would see him as someone complete, not as an idealized figure.

But the memories that followed interrupted his thoughts, slipping by quickly, almost without leaving a trace. Most of them matched the scenes from the murals in the depths, so he barely paid them any attention.

Suddenly, a final memory, the most painful of all, appeared before Link. In it, Zelda paced worriedly in her study, with Mineru beside her, wounded and breathing heavily. Link deduced that this must have been the battle after the Demon King's imprisonment.

"He will return in ten thousand years. Everything we have done has been in vain. The only weapon that can harm him is the Master Sword, and right now it is shattered," Zelda said, her voice breaking as she pointed to the Master Sword, which lay in a corner of Mineru's study. Link saw its blade, consumed by malice. He recalled how, months earlier, at the Temple of Time, he had seen the sword disappear from his hands as he approached the altar. In that moment, everything became clear. He finally understood.

He looked at Zelda again, who was discussing with Mineru what they could do. Zelda realized that the only way to restore the sword was to imbue it with her own light power, but, as Mineru had pointed out, she would not live the ten thousand years needed for Link to return and reclaim it.

Zelda, her gaze lost in thought, turned toward the window. A majestic white dragon soared over the mountains. Knowing of the immortality of such beings, Zelda sighed, lost in a distant dream.

"If only I could be a dragon, then I could deliver the sword to Link in ten thousand years."

Mineru let out a small laugh.

"That's impossible. No one has the power to become one."

Zelda looked at her secret stone in silence, deep in thought.

"What if...? that would ensure..."

She saw Mineru turn, her face showing great concern as she tried to say something to Zelda. But at that moment, someone touched her shoulder, dissolving the memory in a golden glow.

—Brother, are you alright?

The light began to fade, bringing him back to the cold and darkness of the abyss.

When Link finally opened his eyes, he realized he was crying, unable to stop himself, as the last images lingered in his mind. Sidon, who had just landed, was watching him while shaking him gently, trying to bring him back to reality.

He carefully dried the tear-stained hair clip and placed it in his pocket. Under the dim light of the torches, the small object gleamed softly, as if it carried a fragment of hope within it. His gaze then shifted to the sword, now fully restored. A torrent of memories overwhelmed him: Zelda's sacrifice, her very essence given to imbue the weapon with sacred power, preserving it for ten thousand years... His heart swelled with pride and deep reverence at the magnitude of her decision. He embraced the sword solemnly, as if he could honor her sacrifice in doing so. "I will honor your sacrifice, Zelda. I will finish what you started ten thousand years ago. I will not fail you."

In his reverie, he reached for the Master Sword and let his fingers graze its blade. As he touched it, Link not only felt the immense power the dragon had imbued within it for ten thousand years but something more, something hidden. A deep love, an unfathomable devotion that he could not fully understand, was now inscribed in its blade, as if that eternal weapon had captured and preserved a fragment of a soul that had never stopped watching over him.

He wiped away the rebellious tears that continued to fall, then lifted his gaze toward the ceiling of the abyss, where the white dragon had disappeared moments before. "We will bring you back, Zelda," he thought, each word engraving itself in his mind with unbreakable determination. Slowly, he stood up, with the resolve of a warrior who had found an unshakable purpose: to never surrender to the darkness.

Meanwhile, one by one, the others reached the bottom of the well. Upon landing, they approached Link, surrounding him with expressions of concern. Something seemed to be happening, and they couldn't help but feel uneasy.

—So, are you alright? —Sidon asked again, his deep voice tinged with genuine concern. His eyes observed Link attentively, reflecting a mixture of empathy and vigilance. It was clear that he was searching for any sign, no matter how small, of what was going through his friend's mind.

—Since we jumped from the dragon, I've noticed you becoming more and more restless —Sidon continued, leaning slightly toward him, as if trying to reach into his inner world—. You know you can trust us, right? If something is troubling you or if you need to share it, we're here.

Link nodded slowly, though his eyes showed a deep unease, an internal storm he could not calm.

—Yes... I just found this when I arrived —he said, as he held up the golden hair clip, a symbol of a distant past—. Seeing it... I don't know, I couldn't help...

Sidon interrupted him, raising a hand in a calm gesture, as if trying to prevent more painful words.

—Hey, hey, it's okay, relax...

Mineru, who had been watching everything in silence, stepped forward. Her gaze softened upon seeing Link's suffering, but her words were laced with guilt.

—I understand how you feel. On one hand, you see her so close to you, and yet... I warned her not to do it, not to proceed with the forbidden ritual... I'm so sorry, Link. I was the one who told her about its existence. —Her voice trembled slightly, the guilt weighing on her shoulders like a burden impossible to shake off.

Link took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment before speaking. His voice was soft, almost broken, but his words were firm.

—Don't worry, Mineru —he said, looking at the sage with deep understanding—. She was the one who made the final decision, not you. I... I suppose that... someday I will get over it, but for now... every time I see this... —His voice trailed off, and his eyes, empty for an instant, gazed at the golden hair clip as if he could find in it all the answers he sought.

Riju, who had been silent until then, looked at him intently and, with a determined smile, tried to give him some strength.

—We've already told you before, Link —she said, her tone firm yet encouraging—. When all of this is over, we'll search heaven and earth until we find a way to bring her back. We won't leave her behind.

Yunobo, whose voice resonated with the firmness of someone who had shared too many battles, intervened.

—Link, —he said, his voice as steady as a rock—. You've carried our burden all day. Let us be the ones by your side this time.

Link scratched the back of his neck, embarrassed, his blue eyes shining with a mix of gratitude and frustration.

—I'm sorry... —he murmured, looking around, his discomfort palpable—. This place is so cold... it brings back so many painful memories...

Riju looked at him, her eyes filled with understanding.

—Remember what you told us yourself, Link —she added with a soft smile—. We must not let ourselves be consumed by darkness.

Link tried to smile, but it quickly faded, as if the effort was too much.

—I suppose... —he said weakly, as if an invisible weight crushed him— I also feel a bit tired...

Tureli, seeing Link's fragility, intervened decisively, as he always did in moments of tension.

—I think we all are, after the sprint earlier —he said in a firm and resolute tone—. I vote that we sit down and rest for a while. The tremors seem to have calmed down for now.

Everyone nodded decisively. It had been a moment of high adrenaline for them all. Then, with an almost automatic gesture, the sages each took a torch from their backpack and lit them. Soon, the flames danced in the darkness, casting long, flickering shadows on the walls of the well. The silence that followed was dense yet comforting, as if each one were gathering the courage to move forward.

Meanwhile, Link activated a Zonai capsule containing a portable pot. The sages watched him closely, curious, as they saw the hero toss in several ingredients: a bit of wheat, fresh milk, a piece of butter, and something dark they couldn't identify.

The ritualistic nature of Link's gesture, the way his hands moved with unexpected calm in the midst of so much uncertainty, surprised the sages. Moreover, when he began to hum a little tune, a soft and unknown melody that filled the air, their surprise turned into shared smiles. It was a simple, almost childlike song, but with a warmth that contradicted the weight of the moment.

As they listened, for some reason, all of them vaguely pictured a green and cozy forest in their minds, where a figure clad in a leaf-patterned outfit played an ocarina, seemingly in harmony with the melody. A tiny fairy accompanied him, twirling with its bright wings. The vision, distant yet comforting, momentarily filled the space with a peace that soothed them, granting them a sense of calm and hope. Where had Link learned that melody, and why did it seem to have such strange effects? No one knew, nor would they ever know.

The sages looked at each other, exchanging silent smiles, aware of Link's love for cooking. In his own way, the young hero dispelled the darkness that surrounded him, seeking comfort in the simplicity of food—something that could help him forget, even for just a moment, the heavy burden on his shoulders.

Link continued stirring the soup in silence, the soft sound of the spoon against the metal the only echo in the chamber. His mind kept tormenting him, replaying the events of the past months, especially the recent hours, when the Demon King had revealed his darkest and deepest desire. That revelation still echoed in his thoughts, like a dagger lodged in his chest. He couldn't keep living like this, constantly dragging that suffering. He had to find a way to calm himself.

But how? In the end, the reality was inevitable: Zelda could never reciprocate his feelings. Her position as queen was tied to such an immense weight of responsibility that only someone of her stature, someone capable of understanding and managing all that came with ruling, could share her life. And Link knew he was not that person.

Sometimes he found himself cursing internally. "I'm supposed to be the hero, and heroes marry princesses, right? Then why can't I have mine? Why do I always have to chase after her, always in her shadow, as if I'll never be enough? She'll never see me as her equal. I'm tired of just being the damned protector."

Suddenly, like a flash in his mind, an idea struck him. He recalled the confrontation at Lookout Landing, the final battle with the Demon King. Hadn't he told the King himself something very similar? Hadn't he spent the last years of his life helping the people of Hyrule, doing everything in his power to serve the kingdom?

But then, why didn't Zelda...?

The doubt lingered in the air, unanswered, when the soft hum of the fire indicated that the soup was nearly ready. With a deep sigh, Link forced himself to break free from his thoughts. No, enough. Zelda would never see him as an equal, as anything more than just her protector. He had to focus on what truly mattered: the mission. Defeating the Demon King, rescuing Zelda, yes... but not for himself, rather for his loyalty to the kingdom.

And afterward... maybe he could let it go. Maybe he could move on. Let go of everything he had dreamed of, the idea of being with her. Yes, that's what he would do. He had decided.

He turned to his backpack with a resigned sigh, forcing himself to suppress the lump in his throat that threatened to turn into tears. He took out several bottles and set them aside, ready to fill them with the strange brew he had made. Every mechanical movement calmed him, bringing him closer to his reality, his mission, his farewell to what would never be.

But deep in his mind, a truth he refused to accept continued whispering in his ear: he was lying to himself.

AT THE EDGE OF THE ABYSS

In the depths of the abyss, the white dragon lay curled in its lair, its heavy breath echoing in the shadows. It had carried the adventurers on its back, and though its muscles cried for rest, something deeper troubled it. The imminence of the final battle against the Demon King burned like a spark in its consciousness, demanding preparation. It closed its eyes, seeking peace, but the ancient voice that had guided it through the centuries whispered within.

That familiar echo brought forth the memory of a young warrior with blue eyes and a sword of light. The inexplicable connection to that being sent a shiver through the dragon. It recalled the weight of his words, always filled with calm and strength, like a whisper carried by the wind. A tear of pure light slid down its claw, a reflection of a loss it could not name.

It was a tear it did not understand, but one it felt deeply, as if it were the echo of something already lost. Meanwhile, its consciousness faded into a deep slumber.

IN HATENO, AMONG WARMTH AND DOUBTS

In the warm home of Hateno, a desperate Zelda tried to wake Link. Sitting beside him, she looked at him with concern.

—Another nightmare? —she asked gently.

—I don't remember it well, —he replied, rubbing his eyes. The images of the fall were fading quickly, but a feeling of emptiness remained.

As Zelda descended the stairs, her mind wandered to the past few weeks. Link's nightmares had become more frequent, but he refused to give them importance, as he always did. It was his nature, she thought, always willing to carry the weight of the world without a word of complaint.

Downstairs, as she organized her gear, she recalled how this house had become a refuge. She spent more time there than he did, dedicating herself to the school she had founded, while he trained soldiers at Lookout Landing. They had talked many times about improving the house, expanding it, perhaps adding stables or even a study. Although the idea filled her with excitement, there was always a shadow that accompanied it: were those plans more than just dreams?

She heard Link's footsteps coming down the stairs, yawning and ruffling his messy hair. She watched him from a distance, noting how his presence filled the space with a mix of calm and clumsiness, an energy only he could exude.

—Come on, sleepyhead —Zelda said with a warm smile—. Purah is waiting for us at Lookout Landing. We need to investigate the rift causing that sickness.

As they prepared their gear, Zelda couldn't help but indulge in a fleeting fantasy: a different life. A life where Link wasn't just the hero destined to protect her, but someone with whom she could share simple, everyday moments. She imagined cooking alongside him, laughing by the fire during cold winter nights, feeling for a moment the tranquility that only the simplest and most human bonds could offer.

But she quickly dismissed the thought. Responsibilities, unwavering, kept reminding her of the weight of her position. The letters of marriage alliances piled up on her desk, each filled with promises of convenience but empty of any real emotion. The Council, ever watchful, was pressuring her more and more to assume her role as sovereign. The coronation loomed closer with a certainty that crushed her, bringing with it an inevitable decision: she not only had to ensure the continuity of the royal lineage through an heir, but she also had to find someone who could share not only the throne but also the overwhelming burden of ruling Hyrule.

The problem was that her heart had already chosen whom she wanted by her side, and with that, she rejected proposal after proposal. Yet indecision and doubt consumed her, unable to open up with sincerity. She knew Link understood Hyrule better than anyone, even better than she did. He knew every corner of the kingdom, every breeze in its mountains, every heartbeat of life that thrived in its land. His oath to protect her had led him to immeasurable sacrifices, so deep that merely thinking about them made her throat tighten.

That thought made her pause, and pain enveloped her like an unbearable weight. A knot formed in her throat. It was so unreal, so distant. Link didn't see her as someone with whom to share a future. He saw her as a mission, as a duty. His love for her wasn't that of an equal, but the love of a protector.

"He doesn't see me that way," she thought, adjusting her satchel nervously. "I'm just a burden, an obligation." That idea surrounded her, heavy and cold, like a constant shadow.

But she also knew something else, something that filled her with uncertainty: Link loved his freedom. That way he moved like the wind, unpredictable and wild. Sometimes he disappeared into the mountains, hunting with skill, gathering hidden gems in caves, or facing challenges just for the thrill of it. It was an essence Zelda deeply admired but that also filled her with doubt.

If he accepted being with her... would it be out of true conviction or duty? Would he be willing to trade his days of adventure for the walls of a castle, the rigidity of a court, the relentless demands of a wounded kingdom that needed healing?

The question hung in the air, suspended, unanswered, like an echo that refused to fade. Though her heart longed to cling to that possibility, her mind knew that the price of a mistake would be too high.

The sadness that washed over her was fleeting but deep, like an echo in her heart. She took a deep breath, trying to push away those thoughts, and focused on the preparations. The responsibilities of being the future queen left no room for those fantasies. Nervously, she ran a hand through her hair, unintentionally touching the new hair clips Riju had gifted her for her birthday. They were made of Gerudo filigree, the golden base gleaming softly, adorned with a delicate Silent Princess in shades of blue and white at the edges.

When Link finished adjusting his boots and tunic, Zelda was already by the door, waiting for him with a smile that concealed her thoughts.

—We can't be late again, —she joked, breaking the silence.

Link, as always, responded with a calm look and a slight blush. She reminded herself once more that she had to focus on what mattered now: the journey, the mission, and the rebuilding of Hyrule.

But as they rode toward Lookout Landing, a sense of inevitability washed over her. The Council was already impatient to know her decision regarding her future marriage. She had no choice. She would talk to Link that night.

"At least if he rejects me, if he's not willing to be with me as my equal," she thought, feeling a knot in her stomach, "I'll have a clear path."

A TEAR IN THE ABYSS

The dream dissolved in a golden glow. The white dragon trembled, feeling a pain that pierced through it, a pain it did not understand, but that marked it deeply. Before its eyes, the figures of two people appeared: a warrior with blue eyes, wielding a sacred sword, alongside a princess with green eyes and hair as golden as the sun. Their gazes, laden with sorrow, reflected the unreachable distance that separated them, despite being so close to one another.

The suffering these images evoked in the dragon drew a luminous tear from its eye, shining like a star, falling into the abyss, lost in its unfathomable darkness.

As the tear touched the void, the dragon saw the golden glow again. In the vastness of the abyss, a soft woman's voice echoed, like a whisper in the immensity.

—Link, I wish we could find a path that unites us...