24: A Terrible Fate

A future ruler needed to consider the needs of her people and their eventual fates, destinies that would someday outlive her, especially the children. Yes, their futures were most important of all, as they could one day be forged into a soldier, a scholar, or even an enemy. 

Yet, one had to wonder what it was like to spend one’s childhood believing they were an outcast before learning they were meant to be so much more. When he snuck into the courtyard, Zelda had known who Link was almost immediately. Yet, when he’d set off on his journey, he’d simply been a peculiar Kokiri without a guardian fairy that the other children teased. 

He never mentioned if it bothered him, but Zelda wasn’t a fool. Anyone in his situation would yearn to belong, especially with the gentle soul he possessed. After all, his was the light that rose from the forest and pierced the dark sky in her dreams.

Yet, it was never her place to tell him he was a Hylian, though she suspected he must have known the moment he stepped out of Kokiri Forest. After listening to his tale, of his triumph over the King of Evil in an alternate timeline, she surmised he must have already discovered the truth.

Yet still, there was a part of her that wished he’d had a chance at a real childhood, even as she dreamed night after night of those black storm clouds threatening to swallow all of Hyrule. Besides, it was possible Ganondorf would remain exiled and accept the king’s decision, though she knew deep down he wouldn’t.

When she’d asked him where he planned to go next, the boy had told her he wanted to find a dear friend of his, something any child would want. So, she had given him the Ocarina of Time, not just as a token of gratitude, but as a means of protection.

Why hadn’t he used it?

Zelda could feel the harsh wind against her back, the first thing she’d felt in what seemed like an eternity. The sensation was followed by the sting of heat and sand piercing through her.

She could feel her hair billowing in the wind, the desert sun mercilessly beating down on her, having long lost the enchanted cloth that provided her disguise. There would be no need to hide anymore, and there was nowhere left to hide even if she wanted to.

Yet, she didn’t dare open her eyes even if she had the energy to do so. It didn’t matter where she was now, and soon enough nothing would matter at all. 

“You’ve met with a terrible fate, haven’t you?”

Zelda’s eyes snapped open at the sound of a voice, her vision blurry with a combination of exhaustion and stale tears. Who on earth could possibly be where she was, a place she was certain was worse than death? It was what she deserved, after all, given what her lineage was responsible for, given what she had failed to prevent.

Her vision finally began to clear, though it brought her no relief. Instinctively, she dug her hands into the ground only to be met with searing sand, so hot it felt as if it had burned through the bandages on her fingers. She could feel the blue sky before she could see it, knowing that, wherever she was, there were no clouds at all. 

She tried to stand up only to find that she couldn’t move the lower half of her body. After struggling for a few moments, she realized it was because she was halfway buried in the unforgiving sand.

A young man with short brown hair stood before her wearing a simple purple tunic underneath a matching purple jacket, further enhanced by a golden collar and arm bangles. His odd attire, entirely unsuitable for the current environment, didn’t disturb Zelda as much as the unsettling grin permanently frozen on his face.

“Who are you?” she croaked just as she began to recognize him. He was the mask salesman who owned the Happy Mask Shop, which now lay in ruins. She’d always thought he was odd, but he was said to have a noble upbringing, though his family most likely didn’t take to him running a meager shop in town.

“I believe you’re already beginning to work that out,” he said in a sing-song voice.

“I don’t understand,” Zelda tried to pull herself out of the sand before realizing it would take much more strength than she anticipated. 

“You’ve been here for quite some time,” the mask salesman explained. “I must say, I’m quite impressed you’ve lasted as long as you have. Most people wouldn’t have been able to withstand the heat.”

“I don’t deserve to withstand anything.”

“Perhaps you don’t,” the mask salesman’s grin grew wider, and Zelda felt every muscle in her body, including the ones submerged beneath her, tense in response.

“Have you come all this way to mock me?” Zelda sighed as she drooped down into the sand. “On with it, then.”

“And yet perhaps you do,” the mask salesman continued, turning to look at the horizon. “I would get up soon if I were you. We have much to see. Much to discuss, you and I.”

“I will go nowhere anywhere with you!” Zelda wasn’t sure where she’d found the energy for her sudden outburst. Yet, even with the dwindling amount of effort as she could muster, she managed to free her legs from the sand and stand up, though she was still quite unsteady. The mask salesman caught her before she could fall over, but she snatched her hand away before tumbling back down.

“No, I don’t suppose you’ll go far in that condition,” the mask salesman chuckled. “Though I suspect you wouldn’t want all the energy you used to climb out of the sand to go to waste. They will have reached the Triforce by now, as I’m sure you’re aware.”

His words sent a shiver down Zelda’s spine. How did he know about that? That was when she realized she’d hoped that the memories would join her in being buried in the sand.

Just as Adelora had been about to swing his sword, she’d seen it, the faint wisp of green energy called by the dreg of magic she had left. She’d closed her eyes one final time, certain it wasn’t enough magic to make any difference.

She’d expected to die in that chamber. Instead, she had run like a coward and left everyone behind to die.

She wanted to cry, to mourn all who she had abandoned, but no more tears would come. She didn’t deserve to weep, to feel anything other than guilt, shame, and despair for what little time she had left. She thought of Impa and the others, how they’d soon realize their fight was meaningless. The Sheikari ruled the Sacred Realm now. Nothing would come to their aid.

The mask salesman then turned and began walking away, not looking back to see if Zelda was following. She considered turning to walk in the opposite direction and head straight into the approaching flames of darkness, but she decided he was right. She needed to follow him, however bizarre and disquieting he was.

Her eyes scanned every part of the horizon, searching for a landmark to help her orient herself, but there were only dunes as far as the eye could see. 

“I’m sure you would want to know eventually,” the mask salesman said, not looking back at her. “Where we’re going, that is.”

They stopped in front of a particularly large dune. The mask salesman began to climb it, and she followed, though her legs felt like lead. When they reached the top, now able to see much more of the surrounding landscape than before, she looked down and gasped.

A colossal sandstorm raged before them, swallowing everything in its path. However, it seemed to be contained to a certain area, as the raging winds that catapulted the sand into the air stopped after a certain point, creating a strange and unsettling border.

“It will stop soon,” the mask salesman said. “Now that I’ve brought you here.”

Zelda thought she heard a faint chime before she returned her attention to the sandstorm, which was indeed beginning to die down. The winds subsided, and the sand slowly fell back to the ground. 

As it settled, a massive circular colosseum seemed to materialize in front of them. Six giant pillars ringed its perimeter, each bearing a golden, winged Triforce symbol. A long set of stone steps led up to the entrance of the colosseum, where she could see streams of glittering sand gently falling in front of the passage that led inside.

“Well?” the mask salesman turned to face her, and his grin hadn’t faltered in the slightest.

“What is this place?” Zelda asked, her voice barely a whisper.

“I believe you know exactly what this place is,” the mask salesman replied. “In fact, I’m certain this is precisely where you need to be.”

Without another word, he turned and began descending the dune. Zelda hesitated for a moment before following. As the storm continued to clear up, there was no mistaking it. The mask salesman was right once again.

This was it. The Arbiter’s Grounds.

“We must hurry!” the mask salesman called behind him, his voice taking on a more urgent tone. “They will be starting soon.”

Zelda scrunched up her face in confusion but didn’t bother asking him what he meant. Instead, she quickly raced to catch up with him as he ran up the steps towards the entrance proper. He then stopped abruptly, holding out his arm to bar Zelda from entering.

“I know a shortcut,” he explained. “Walk in just after I do.”

Without waiting for a response, the mask salesman stepped through the passage and vanished. Zelda paused for a fraction of a second before following him. She expected to emerge into a dark chamber but instead found herself in the middle of an roofless arena. There were more pillars surrounding them both here, each with the symbols of the six Sages.

Across from them was what looked like a large stone monolith, half-buried in the sand. Yet, Zelda’s attention was only on the round, circular object nestled on top of a pedestal just a few feet in front of it. Anyone else who gazed upon it might have thought it was nothing more than a simple mirror, but Zelda knew better. It was the mirror that had haunted her mother’s visions, the relic that was used to banish the Sheikari from Hyrule forever.

The mask salesman was now standing in the absolute center of the arena, and as Zelda approached him, she saw that his grin had turned into a wide, maniacal smile.

“And now!” he announced, his voice echoing in the still air. “We go back in time!”