1: No More Heroes

When evil ruled all, an awakening voice from the Sacred Realm would call those destined to be Sages, who dwelled in the five temples.

If destiny could be nothing else, it would be poetic, even as despair continued to rake the once-supple stretches of Hyrule Field, reducing the land to a portrait of hollowed resolve. It was that current view which upended any hope of a rebellion. 

What were once rolling hills covered in lush greenery now resembled centuries-old badlands, as if nothing had ever grown there before and never would. Swords, claymores, scimitars, and shields still littered the fields, testaments to the determination of the Gerudo and eventual collapse of the Knights of Hyrule. 

Scattered remnants of broken carts and abandoned structures littered the landscape, welcomed only by the never-ending haze that permeated the horizon. That haze seemed to be the only constant companion to the rubble beneath it. One might even say it was now the true ruler of Hyrule, sucking the color from everything that dared reside within its domain.

Day or night, there was no true sunlight anymore, only just enough to cast shadows in every imaginable corner. Shadows, it appeared, still had their use as the era of eternal darkness grew ever closer with each passing day. Perhaps, people needed to believe they could still hide, could still find a way forward even while the rumbling clouds above their heads predicted a much different future. 

Though the storms were worse now, at least a flash of lightning was a chance to see clearly, to experience something both frightening and familiar. Storms had always had their place in Hyrule’s history, harbingers of change and unearthed secrets. Though, now, it seemed as if the storms were only meant to usher in a new wave of despair as a fresh thunderbolt raced across the sky. 

Few could have predicted any of this seven years ago. Yes, seven years ago, time seemed to favor no one, though it would be difficult to convince the people of Hyrule today. 

That time of peace and prosperity was like a dream thanks to the King of Evil’s return, this time with greater ambition. Yet, many had chosen not to flee even after the knights fell, certain that Ganondorf’s reign would be a short one. After all, they believed Hyrule was a kingdom of myth and destiny. 

Only those chosen by the goddesses were worthy to rule, and none but the worthiest could save the kingdom. Surely a hero would emerge to set everything right. The people of Hyrule held onto this hope, self-assured their prayers would soon be answered.

Seven years later, they were wrong. Still wrong.

The breeze that rustled the remaining, leafless trees wailed offensively, loud enough to spook any hapless creature. A giant, fast-moving shadow swooped across the plains. Perhaps a bird’s. Perhaps a dragon’s.

Yet, despite Ganondorf’s best efforts, the land hadn’t truly collapsed into an eternally dark landscape. Perhaps this was by design, or maybe the sorcerer king wasn’t powerful enough to cast a large enough shadow. 

It was that glimmer of hope that led Zelda to a clearing she had only seen once before in her lifetime, bracing herself as another foul rush of wind bowled over her. She had taken her place at the edge of the highest cliff she could find, clasping her hood to ensure it wouldn’t slip off as she made her way across Hyrule Field. 

She then closed her eyes, hugging herself tightly underneath her cloak. It was something she’d done so many times as a child, her way of squeezing away the sorrow for a brief moment. She absently rubbed at the shoulder pauldron of her basic Sheikah training garb, its material well-crafted for the task at hand. 

Though the armor was meant for stealth, she’d chosen it because the Sheikah emblem wasn’t embroidered onto trainee attire, which worked to her advantage. A Sheikah, whether true or not, spotted racing across Hyrule Field would surely alert even the most dull-witted of Ganondorf’s minions.

When she lifted her head, the sight of Hyrule Castle, or what remained of it, greeted her, completely exposed in its ruin and dilapidation. She closed her eyes and slowly shook her head, reminding herself that such a sight was to be expected. 

Had the stone walls and drawbridge not been obliterated, she would have only been able to see the tops of the castle towers. Those proud spires that once reached the clouds were now broken and jagged, resembling the teeth of a fallen beast. 

In the center of that beast rose a high, twisting black structure that resembled more of a scaly dragon’s tail than a tower, though it threatened the sky all the same. Its design was needlessly imposing, complimenting the mad sorcerer’s aesthetic all too well. 

Even after seven years as the King of Hyrule, it seemed Ganondorf still wanted to challenge the gods. He’d gotten his wish for absolute ruin and decay without the Triforce, but it didn’t seem to be enough. Why was that?

Zelda allowed the question to float away from her as she scanned the horizon. From where she was positioned, she could make out at least two other spires like the main tower, though these were much smaller in size.

One eclipsed the charred remains of what used to be Lon Lon Ranch, only a crumbling old stable hinting it was once the most prosperous ranch in the land. A colossal purple tent had been erected by its side, presumably to house the numerous Gerudo sentries who patrolled the field.

The other spire stood just outside of Kakariko Village, which the Gerudo had no doubt claimed for themselves, driving out any hope of Hyrule’s citizens escaping to it for refuge. Death Mountain loomed above the village, a ring of grey smoke signaling the likelihood of it remaining under the Gorons’ protection. 

Zelda had long forgotten what Lake Hylia looked like, having only visited it once as a child, and she knew nothing of the Zoras’ predicament. Still, she could see the river from where she was standing, though she couldn’t tell if it ran clear now or had been reduced to poisonous muck.

So she inhaled, the scent of wildflowers and grass whirling through her body, though neither could be seen throughout the long, withering stretch of corrosion in all directions. Her nose itched the same way it did when she was a child, when her mother would stuff a tissue against her face just before she sneezed. 

Her mother. This time of day, they’d be having a picnic in the courtyard, sharing tarts as her father watched from afar. It was one of the last remaining memories she had left of the time before, of an era so many new lives would never experience.

With a sigh, she wondered why Ganondorf would warp and twist the land into something unrecognizable. Life in the Gerudo Desert was known to be harsh and unrelenting enough. She imagined the cruel sun and unforgiving sands only allowed time for survival and little else. There could be no aspirations of a better life unless one sought out the fertile lands of Hyrule. 

And yet his conquest didn’t seem to be stopping any time soon. Even after all these years, it appeared as though Ganondorf was amassing more and more foot soldiers and henchmen despite his rule being absolute. 

To anyone unfamiliar with the myths and legends of Hyrule, it would seem confusing and unnecessary, but Zelda was no fool. Ganondorf wasn’t preparing to stamp out a rebellion or defend against a rival kingdom. He was preparing to fight destiny itself. Even an army of Stalfos would be no match for the Hero of Time.

Except, Zelda knew the truth. There was no Hero of Time now, and there wouldn’t be.

She could still remember that day so clearly, how the sky still seemed so full yet limitless, still reliably inviting to those who had the courage to dream. She could recall how quickly she cupped her hand with her mouth the moment that peculiar boy in green clothes showed up in the courtyard, a sword and shield in his hands. 

The emblem on his wooden shield and green clothes were symbols of the forest children. Yet, Zelda had been taught the Kokiri never left their sanctuary. Their very beings were tied to the forest, and regular folk didn’t dare intrude within the corridors of the Lost Woods.

Yet, when he spoke to her, the realization began to seep into her bones. He was not one of the Kokiri at all. Perhaps he’d grown up around them, but this boy was as much of a Hylian as she was, one who was destined to accomplish unimaginable feats. 

He pointed behind Zelda, who turned just in time to catch a glimpse of Ganondorf, bowing before her father in a gesture that made her stomach churn. Yet, before she could ask him how he’d snuck past the guards, the boy began to tell her what the man she’d never trusted was truly capable of. 

Anyone else would have thought the boy was spinning the tallest mummer’s tale in all of Hyrule, but Zelda knew with every fiber of her being that he spoke the truth. The alternate timeline. The evil sorcerer entering the Sacred Realm and obtaining the Triforce of Power. 

It all sounded so immediately ludicrous, so shamelessly impossible. Yet, Zelda continued to listen as the boy, whose name was Link, relayed these events.

With only a piece of the divine artifact, Ganondorf had nearly destroyed Hyrule, turning it into a place of darkness and ruin before he was defeated by Link, who had managed to awaken the Six Sages. 

The Zelda of this timeline had sent Link back in time to regain his childhood, and this was the boy who had come to warn her. Zelda had closed her eyes and been silent for several moments once he’d finished, immediately accepting his words to be true. She knew, even now, she would have done exactly as he described.

Zelda assured Link that she would take care of everything and alert her father about Ganondorf’s betrayal. She remembered how he nodded and smiled, his expression so innocent despite the countless dangers he’d faced. 

He then mentioned he wanted to go off to find a dear friend of his in the Lost Woods, and Zelda gave him the Ocarina of Time, both as a token of gratitude and for his own protection.

Within moments of Link’s departure, Zelda had revealed all to her father, expecting him to imprison the foul, would-be usurper. Instead, he’d simply banished him from Hyrule. She would never forget how she hid behind her father’s throne as he handed down his proclamation, as if the sorcerer’s hateful stare would set her aflame in retaliation.

“Before I depart, I would leave behind a sentiment,” Ganondorf’s voice was low, but it carried throughout the chamber, his eyes glowing as if fueled by his own malice. “Light cannot be without shadow, and you would do well to remember the shadows.”

A month later, word would reach the castle of a massive army approaching from the west. Impa would immediately spirit Zelda away, taking her to a remote, nameless village on the outskirts of Hyrule, farther than she thought possible.

Of course, they’d been certain back then that such drastic measures were only temporary. Link would eventually return from his journey to a distant realm, and he would once again defeat the evil sorcerer, saving Hyrule from destruction once more.

Yet, as the years continued to pass, Zelda began to lose hope, and the land continued to succumb to what looked to be its fated demise. She could still recall when, while practicing the drills Impa had taught her to avoid detection, she’d decided it had been long enough. 

Her people were suffering, and Ganondorf grew in power with each passing day. Soon, he would be strong enough to enter the Sacred Realm, possibly by force, without any need of the Ocarina of Time, which was no longer in her possession. And what would they do then, continue to wait and hope?

She sniffed the air once more, taking in a new scent of cedar and embers, a campfire that seemed closer than she liked. Every sentry at the encampment below would be on high alert, searching for any sign of someone approaching out in the open. 

Zelda would have preferred to travel at night, but she needed to save that advantage for when she scaled the winding black tower and confronted Ganondorf. Time was running out. There could be no more waiting, praying for a hero who didn’t exist.

She closed her eyes, calling upon the powers of the Golden Goddesses, before leaping off the edge of the cliff.