Sin of Sheikari Chapter 9
9: A Chosen Prison
Zelda carefully approached the large stone door, and as she stretched out her hand she felt the slightest resistance in the air, as if moving too quickly would set her fingertips aflame. If she didn’t accomplish what she came here to do quickly, she wouldn’t last much longer.
She glanced over at Darunia, who gave her a confident nod as he leaned against his hammer.
“I’ll stand watch!” he pounded his chest once more, a great, booming, gravelly sound as he leaned against his hammer.
Zelda found herself smiling, even though he wouldn’t see it under her hood. “Thank you, Darunia. And I promise I’ll call you when the time comes.”
Darunia’s great beard curtained against his chest as a wide grin spread across his face. Zelda turned to face the door once more, the sounds of chanting much clearer than they were when she first entered the temple. She was close enough now to place her hand against the door’s surface, closing her eyes and willing it to open for her.
At first, it seemed as if she wouldn’t be allowed entry. Then, the door flew up, a rush of scalding wind roaring against her. It was all she could do to concentrate her magic into keeping her from roasting alive as she raced across the threshold into a massive hall filled with a lake of fire.
The door slammed shut behind her, and she took note of her surroundings, her eyes landing on a wide, circular platform resting in the center of the hall with four large pillars surrounding it. One of them was close enough to allow Zelda to jump on it and make it across.
It didn’t take long for her to reach her destination, and she took another moment to scan around herself from the center of the platform. For the briefest instant, she felt like this would be a place she would remain forever, as if the hall’s very purpose was to contain whoever entered it.
She blinked the thought away, yanking her harp out of its invisible, hidden place before she managed to forget her purpose. As she began to strum it, she let out a quiet sigh of relief as the floor beneath her once again began to shimmer as if a spotlight had been cast on her.
The glowing circle fled from her just as before, stopping a few feet away before it erupted into a dance of red-colored tendrils. They crashed and swirled into each other as expected before melding together to take on a new form. This time, a bald man whose robes looked as if they’d been dipped in the reddest, most vibrant Goron spice emerged from the light.
He towered over Zelda, nearly as mountainous as Darunia at his full height, small brown eyes glinting in the light of the lava lake. Like Nove, he had a long, white beard, though his was bushy, resembling a storm cloud that had just delivered its last thunderclap.
Right away, Zelda knew he was not pleased.
“I am Grig, the Sage of Fire!” he glared down at Zelda, his booming voice much louder than the bellowing flames that surrounded them. “Why have I been awakened?”
Zelda thought for a moment what she could say to convince him. Nove had reacted in a similar manner, and she was certain Grig would be no less difficult. She startled as a bead of sweat rolled down her cheek before leaping onto her shoulder pauldron. She had minutes, maybe less, before her magic completely gave out.
“Honorable Sage, a dark wizard named Ganondorf now rules over Hyrule,” she put a hand to her heart as she gestured all around her with the other. “He will no doubt seek out the Triforce as soon as the opportunity presents itself. I implore you to help us in this time of need!”
“And yet you come here instead of the Hero of Time!” Grig phrased it like an accusation at first. Then, he tilted his head, a hint of contemplation in his expression. “Why?”
Zelda simply shook her head, trying to stifle the growing exasperation she felt. How many more times would she have to explain? “He has not returned, and I fear we will soon be out of time anyway. If we do nothing, the people of Hyrule will soon be enslaved by darkness.”
“Enslaved…” Grig seemed to taste the word, his beard rustling as if he was mumbling to himself, though Zelda couldn’t make out what he might be saying. “I do remember that feeling, but it matters not. This is the place where I belong, and until today no one could so much as order me about. You must wait for the Hero of Time.”
“Ganondorf would order us all unless we act!” Zelda urged. “I won’t allow him to make prisoners of innocents and defile the land any more than he already has!”
Grig’s beard bent sideways as the corner of his mouth lifted into a smirk. He didn’t respond to Zelda’s outburst, not audibly at any rate. Instead, the burning hall began to fade away just as the chamber in the Forest Temple had. Zelda once again found herself standing in the center of a pool of water that splashed yet couldn’t drench her, the symbols of the Sages stretched all around her.
Grig rose up from the symbol of Fire, his expression unreadable.
“Enslaved,” he repeated the word as if to continue to appraise it. “You speak of prisoners as if innocence has completely escaped you. Yet you are still a child, still oblivious to the nature of your surroundings.”
Zelda sighed, though she wanted to hurl a retort. “Yes…I admit I still have much to learn. Had I had the opportunity to continue my studies, I would, perhaps, have gleaned much more knowledge.”
“Do you know why we build prisons?” Grig seemed to ignore her statement and turned away from her, as if looking out into the distance. “We believe there are those of us who can serve no purpose other than pure evil. So we lock or seal them away to keep them from those we deem worthy of being in our society.”
He then met Zelda’s eyes once more, gesturing around the chamber. “Yet even we, chosen by the Goddesses, grew arrogant and envious. We wanted a society completely of our making, where there would be no need for prisons. And so this place was abandoned, left only to become a nest for a great dragon. That dragon was then slain by a Goron Hero, its bones laid to rest in this prison.”
Zelda stared into the water below Grig’s feet. She had always revered the temples scattered across Hyrule as places of worship, yet, more and more, she suspected they were all simply repurposed into holy sites. The Forest Temple was once meant to be a stronghold. The Fire Temple, a prison.
Why weren’t they left as they were, and who decided they must be refashioned into something else?
“I chose to sleep here, where fire burned around me,” Grig continued. “I wanted to hide from the darkness of men, from myself. Yet their shadows form even now, even after all these years.”
Zelda’s eyes widened at Grig’s last statement, and she once again felt a faint wave of nausea and dread pour into her. Shadows. Yes, she knew something of shadows lately.
“You are not Sheikah.”
Grig noticed her hesitation and raised a white eyebrow. “Perhaps you are right to become Hyrule’s savior now, you who are of royal blood. Perhaps not. In time, we will see.”
Grig and the Chamber of Sages slowly faded from view like a ghostly veil, the den of fire once more materializing all around her. Where Grig once stood, there now rested a small red medallion. Zelda sighed. She’d managed to convince two of them, even if there were still four more to go.
She had just reached down to scoop up the medallion when she saw it. Its form flickered between the flames, yet its posture was rigid and sure, as if it didn’t dare allow Zelda out of its line of sight.
What looked like coils of hideous, black smoke rose from it as it continued to stalk toward her, walking along the lava like it was a fresh, spring meadow. It spasmed and twisted around itself like a candle flame fighting against the wind, as if maintaining its shape took a great deal of effort.
As it drew closer, Zelda could make out a piercing set of glowing, blood-colored eyes. Yet, Zelda didn’t need to hold its gaze to know its intent. With each soundless step it took amongst the flames, its desire only seemed to grow louder. It wanted to hurt, to maim, to destroy. It hated everything.
It should have been impossible to feel a chill in a place such as Death Mountain. Yet, even as she sensed her heat protection giving away at last, so too did Zelda realize she must wrestle with the sort of terror she couldn’t dare try to understand.
All she knew was that she needed to get away. Now.
Perhaps, by instinct, she had already summoned the harp, though she couldn’t remember when she’d done so. Luckily, the notes came to her instantly, and she began calling out to be taken to her next destination.
The figure continued to approach her, gliding through the flames that should have disintegrated it. Thankfully, it was already too late. Tendrils of blue light enveloped Zelda until she could see nothing else, and before long she felt her feet leaving the ground.
Yes, she would escape this prison, and so would Hyrule.
