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Wherever Wild was, it was dark.
But not completely.
He blinked a few times, waiting for his eyes to adjust. The shadows were deep, but not so much that he couldn’t begin to make out some shapes and colours as they emerged from the darkness.
The first thing that he saw were twin specks of light, one above the other. They were a violet so startlingly bright that they were almost white, glimmering and glistening in the shadows as they darted and bobbed in unison.
Wild took a step towards them and the top one let out a small, high pitched whine, and they both darted away into the darkness, vanishing.
Wait…
It hadn’t been two lights. It had been one and its reflection as it flitted above a stretch of water. Wild squinted as his eyes adjusted and pricked his ears, listening. Only a step or two ahead of him, the stone platform that he stood on gave way to a wide stretch of water. The more his eyes adjusted to the dark the more he could see how far it stretched, a small lake of pale blue water, bubbling lightly and giving off the distinct, bitter scent of a hot spring.
He looked around. This place, wherever he was, was quiet, but he could hear the low bubbling of the spring before him, the low buzz of the Depths fireflies darting nearby, more and more of them the more his eyes adjusted. As he peered about, he saw structures emerge from the gloom. Ancient Ruins, his brain wanted to supply, but no. That wasn’t accurate. This place was not in ruins, it was new and fresh and more complete than Wild had ever seen it before.
Because Wild had seen it before. He had been here. He knew this place.
It had… taken longer than Wild cared to admit for him, on his second journey, to recognise the true nature of the Depths. When he first plunged into the Central Hyrule Chasm, he had expected a limited space - a sort of cave but on a grand scale. Vast and cavernous, yes, but still limited to the area around the chasm.
That. Had not been what he had found.
The discovery of an entire hidden layer beneath the surface of Hyrule was incredible. An entire new wilderness to explore? Complete with its own indigenous wildlife and flora and weird, wacky monsters? And whatever the hell baby frox were (other than adorable)? It was basically Wild’s dream. And then to find so many ruins and so much evidence of an ancient culture as well had just been the cherry on top.
It was an embarrassing number of lightroots into his hunt that he realised that they were all direct mirrors of the shrines on the surface. It took even longer before he realised that for every mountain that sat above ground, there was a valley underneath, for every goddess statue, a bargainer, for every settlement, an ancient mine.
It was when he was exploring the Ancient Fortress beneath Akkala Citadel that it occurred to him. If there were wellsprings beneath each of the three sacred springs, if there was a burrow beneath Mount Satori…
Could- could there be something underneath the Shrine of Resurrection? For so long he’d just thought that it was just a pure piece of Sheikah technology, but when he had torn it apart with extreme prejudice had it decommissioned, he had begun to have his doubts. It was built directly into a hot spring, drawing its powers, in part, from the healing waters.
Wild had been uncharacteristically nervous as he’d headed to the Depths underneath the Great Plateau. He hadn’t known what to expect, but his fear and hatred of the Shrine of Resurrection built up and up in his mind until he had been certain that there was something monstrous waiting for him. Something terrible.
Instead he had found the Secret Spring of Revival. And yes, okay, it was more than a little eerie. The structure that had once been built around it was in ruins and the whole place was overgrown with weeds and mushrooms and moss. But… it was oddly peaceful too. Poes danced across the water, their flames flickering in their reflections. Fireflies darted and wove between the tall grasses, and something in the air felt calm. Gentle.
Protective.
Now, when Wild looked around, he recognised the Spring of Revival as easily as he would recognise his own home. But the Spring that he looked at here was different to the one that he knew. Nothing was in ruins, nothing was overgrown. It was whole.
The pathway that Wild had only ever seen in broken fragments now looked brand new, made of a marble tinged lightly in pink, smooth and polished and ring encircling the spring in an elegant arc. Across the water, the vast gateway to the spring and the ruined structure around it were whole, covered in fine, swirling carvings and glimmering softly in the reflected light from dozens of Zonai lanterns, delicately carved in the shape of brightblooms.
Wild squinted. Much as his eyes had adjusted to the light, it was still a little hard to see in the darkness. But when he looked up at the carved balcony overlooking the Spring, he was certain that he could just about make out the shadow of someone standing up there.
Welp. That was a heading, at least.
Cautious, Wild began to walk around the edge of the Spring. The Aspect’s golden heels clicked against the marble as he moved, loud and echoing in the quiet of the Depths. Beyond the path, where Wild was so used to seeing the untamed, overgrown wilderness that was so common down here, was a neatly manicured garden. The grass grew in pale tones of pink and blue, the trees were curled and topped with purple fronds. The flowerbeds were full of jewel-toned mushrooms and the occasional muddle-bud.
It was… beautiful. Wild loved the overgrown beauty of the wilderness but seeing this, seeing the Depths tended and cared for and its flora clearly loved? There was something nice about that.
He walked on.
Before him, the massive structure that overlooked the Spring loomed large. This close, more of its lanterns had swum into view, glimmering against the marble like stars.
It had been hard to tell, seeing its ruined state in his own time, what the structure was. Now though, hung in banners, lit with lanterns, intact and whole, Wild recognised a temple when he saw one. He paused for a moment, taking it in, and then stepped from the path and onto a set of carved steps leading to the entryway.
Wild looked around as he began to climb into the temple. The structure was silent, empty. Something told him that in reality, in this place’s heyday, when it had been intact and newly built, it would have been full of life. Even if there were not the throngs of merchants and pilgrims that had been at the Temple of Time, there would have been priestesses. Acolytes. A community of the devout going about their prayers and devotions.
But this was not reality. This was not real. This was a dream or a vision or something equally mystical and True.
Wild felt a shiver run down his spine as he climbed the steps of the temple. It had worked. His plan, entering the Shrine, revisiting the place of his nightmares. It had had worked.
Hylia, he hoped that this was a good thing.
He climbed higher. In his own era this place was so eroded by the passage of time that hardly any steps remained, but now it was an easy journey, winding through passageways and halls, gradually rising up and up-
Until he was there. Facing out onto the balcony, the viewing platform that reached out and over the Spring.
It was lit too, by lanterns dotted along the carved marble balustrade, and there, in the spot where Wild had once found an old treasure chest, was a figure. With the lanterns set on the edge of the balcony they were cast in silhouette, but that was okay. Even like this, Wild knew exactly who it was in an instant. It was a figure that he knew intimately, one that he had seen every day for almost a year now, one that he was used to seeing in the mirror.
Wild stared for a moment at the Ancient Hero, gathering his courage. Then he stepped forwards and purred softly for attention.
The Ancient Hero turned to face him.
Wild wasn’t really certain what he had expected, had he ever thought about coming face to face with his predecessor. The man who stood before him shared his name and his soul. For a year, now, Wild had lived in his body. They were even wearing the same clothes, the cream sarong with gold embroidery, the golden breastplate, his long red hair combed neatly away from his face and braided down his back.
But it wasn’t him. Wild may have been wearing his body, but the face that he looked back at him was not his own. Not just in that the Ancient Hero did not have the same patchwork of scars that Wild had, but in his expression. In how he held himself. They may have had the same face, but they could never have been mistaken for the same person.
The Ancient Hero stared at him, his blue eyes wide, his expression unreadable. Then he bowed his head and lifted his hands to sign.
“I have wronged you.” he said.
Wild blinked. Of all the things that he had expected the Ancient Hero to say, it hadn’t been that.
He stepped forwards, rumbling softly, to meet him where he stood. The Ancient Hero had looked up to meet his gaze once more and remained still, silent, waiting for Wild to say something.
He had no idea what to say.
“Is it… really you?” he settled on, somewhat lamely. “The one in the Aspect?”
The Ancient Hero chuffed, a look of amusement crossing his eyes as he glanced down. Wild followed his gaze and yes, sure enough, he was wearing the heavily ornamented belt that was the root of Wild’s transformation.
“This stupid ornament.” he said at last. “I wish I had never made it. All it has done is bring pain. To me, I can accept. It is my penance for my own hubris. But to bring hardship to you? That is unforgivable.” he looked up again. “I am sorry.”
Wild shuffled, suddenly uncomfortable, bashful. “Oh, you know.” he signed, and he was pretty sure that he was blushing underneath his fur. “It - it wasn’t all bad.”
The Ancient Hero tilted his head, curious. “Oh?” he asked aloud. His voice was still rumbling and animal, but it lacked the grit and roughness of Wild’s ruined vocal cords. Instead it was smooth, low. Gentle.
Wild shuffled again. Yeah he was absolutely blushing underneath his fur.
“I mean. It was kind of nice to be tall for a while.” he admitted. “And having a tail was kind of rad. And… being able to run really fast was just fun.”
For a moment the Ancient Hero stared at him, and Wild was afraid that he had offended him. Should he maybe not have admitted to goofing about in the Aspect? It wasn’t really his body, should he have shown more respect?
And then the Ancient Hero threw back his head and he laughed. Loud and echoing and delighted, his whole body shaking with the action, tears of mirth rising to his eyes. He raised a hand, raking it through his hair.
Finally, his laughter subsided enough that he could lift his hands to sign, his posture relaxing a little as he leaned back against the balcony.
“Haha! - I am glad that it was not all bad for you.” he shook his head, still chuckling lightly. “I… I suppose I never considered that any good could come of this.”
Wild laughed with him and shifted to sit beside him on the balustrade. He fell quiet, listening to the bubbling of the water underneath, to the flickering of the fireflies as they darted across its surface.
This… this was weird. All of his stress, all of his fear, and now here he was, in an ethereal dream space and laughing with the spirit of the Ancient Hero. After a moment, he looked up at him again. Well, this seemed as good a time as any. Wild took a breath.
“Do-” Wild steadied himself. “Do you know how I can get it off? It’s… been fun but I would… like to be Me again.”
The Ancient Hero watched him sign and then seemed to shrink in on himself . He shook his head.
“I do not. I am sorry. However it is that it became stuck - it - it was never meant to do any of this.”
Oh. Well… that wasn’t great. Wild frowned.
“What was it for then?” he asked. “If not… whatever this is? Why did you make it?”
The Ancient Hero looked away.
“I-” his head lowered, not making eye contact. “I was afraid, I suppose.”
Oh. Wild swallowed and then reached over, tapping his arm.
“Will you tell me?”
The Ancient Hero looked up, and his lips settled into something similar to a smile. He nodded.
“If you will listen.” he agreed. “I have been here for a long time. It… has been some time since I had someone to listen.”
Wild nodded and adjusted his position on the balcony, getting comfortable. He nodded in encouragement.
“How long have you been here?”
The Ancient Hero looked stricken. His shoulders turned inwards.
“I… am not sure.” he admitted. “I think that I might have come here when I died.” He glanced behind him, over the balcony at the lightly bubbling water of the hot spring, the lanterns and the fireflies reflecting on its surface. As they watched, a poe flickered into existence, ethereal and not quite real, its flickering flames tinged with green.
“I think that I was like that, for a time. Not… conscious. But not resting. A poe. It was a long time, I know that, but I could not tell you how long. And then my Aspect was unearthed for the first time in… in millennia, I think. And it was worn, and I woke up.
“I have been awake since then. Since you first wore it, Link. Wild. I have followed your journey since then, as well as I can.”
He looked down at the water again, and Wild followed his gaze. The glassy surface shimmered and changed, and reflected on his surface Wild suddenly saw images - images of his life since gaining the Aspect. Fighting Ganondorf, freeing Zelda. Celebrating with the Sages. Tea with the Koroks. Meeting his brothers in the Chain, getting to know them. High and lows, laughter and tears.
The Ancient Hero lifted his hands.
“I did not watch every moment.” he said, and now Wild was pretty sure that he was blushing. “Your life is your own, and I endeavoured to give you your privacy. But… I have seen enough to know who you are. A Hero - my successor. My descendent. My blood.”
He sighed and then shook his head, and both the images and the poe vanished.
“I will tell you my story. I… will not start at the beginning.” he said slowly. “I mean no disrespect. It is not by choice - I have no memory of how it all began.
“I was chosen as the Hero. This I know. I - I have been told that I was young when I drew the Sword, and I suppose I have no reason to doubt this. You are a Hero also, you know that it comes with… threats. Danger.
“In my battle against the Calamity I… fell. I was not strong enough and was-
“Forgive me. Please. I am sure that of all people, you know that this is hard to speak of.
He paused, taking a breath, and Wild nodded for him to continue. The Ancient Hero rumbled softly in thanks and then lifted his hands again.
“I was killed.” he said. “It was quick, I think. My spine was snapped in several places and I hit my head. I’ll spare you the details. The fact remains that I was dead, and that all of my battles and training until then were in vain. My sacrifice was not enough, so my body was taken to the Shrine built atop this place to be revived.
“My first memories are of awakening in the cradle of my own grave, surrounded by light and not knowing who I am. I was told later that it had been one hundred years since I was put inside. Immeasurable time, it may seem to you, little one, but my people are long lived. To them it was but the bat of an eye.
“They… expected me to step from the Shrine fully formed as the warrior that they had known. But I did not. Instead I was weak and feeble as a kitten. I could barely walk. I had forgotten how to sign. I was afraid. But the world was wide and beautiful and under threat, and I could not stand by.”
Wild nodded, rumbling. He understood that feeling, at least, could remember feeling like an imposter in his own body. The Ancient Hero glanced around at him and chuckled.
“I suppose that I do not need to explain that to you, do I? I may not have been with you for your first journey, but I think that you understand. You felt the same thing, didn’t you?”
He purred this time as he chuckled and then shook his head.
“I succeeded the second time. I defeated the Calamity, freed the princess, and then it was over. I never was able to recover any memories. I was surrounded by people who knew the one who came before me, who expected me to be him again, and I could not do it. I was not him. I am not him, and even if I am, I have no memory of it.
“I think it is fair to say that it consumed me. How everyone I had once known looked at me with such confusion, how they all remarked on how changed I was, how they encouraged me to try and be more like him. But I could never live up to their expectations.
“I… yeah I had a pretty unhealthy relationship with my own memory. I’m man enough to admit that. I only ever felt like myself around Zelda. She was not the same Princess who brought me to the Shrine a century before. Hylians have much shorter lives and the one who I came to know was her descendent, her great granddaughter, and she had no expectation from me other than to be myself.
“I am grateful for that.”
He stopped, hands frozen in midair. And then he sighed. Turned back to the water beneath the balcony. He lowered his head.
“I… I was obsessed.” he repeated. “Memory. Remembrance. That which came before. After my journey I threw myself into research. It began as simply looking into my own past, but it grew from there. I learned about the Heroes who had come before me and it was… distressing to learn that all of these great deeds by these great people were largely lost to time, scattered across libraries and private collections, kept alive only in folk tales and lullabies.
“If my own memory could be so easily lost, it struck me that the memory of all of our brothers could just as easily be destroyed. I could not allow that to happen.
“After the Calamity many of our towns and cities were levelled and we all had to take part in the rebuilding effort, so I was a skilled builder. I took all that I learned about the Heroes of the past and my skills as an architect, and I raised a temple to their memory. Telling their stories, preserving their relics, and providing space to record the deeds of Heroes to come.”
The Forgotten Temple.That vast space decorated with murals and artefacts and stories of the Chain and those like them. It may have been lost in Wild’s era, but in Age’s it was whole, complete. The memory it had sought to preserve lived on.
Still, that didn’t answer every question.
Wild turned to the Ancient Hero.
“How did you know what we looked like?” he asked. “For the murals?”
The Ancient Hero chuckled and then turned to the side, walking to a shelf at the side of the balcony. He lifted out a heavy tome and carried it over to him.
Wild recognised it instantly. He had seen it before, in Spirit’s world. The play that they had watched there had been a spoof of the Heroes’ lives, but it had been based on the notes of a real historian, someone who had used the portals of the War of Eras to hop between timelines and learn what she could about the Heroes of the Past.
He flicked to one of the last pages and pulled something out. Wild stared.
It was a picto. A picto that Wild recognised, recognised because he had taken it, showing the Chain minus him, all standing and smiling at the camera. It captured his brothers perfectly, every detail, every quirk. With this to go off, it was no wonder the murals in the temple had been so lifelike.
“Oh.” was all that he could say. He hadn’t told him yet, but he had been planning to make a copy of that picto to give to Spirit so that he could include it in the historian’s notes. He’d been sorely tempted to include one with himself and Age, but had decided that probably wasn’t a good idea. Including actual pictures of Heroes who hadn’t been born yet was just asking for trouble. He probably wouldn’t have included Wars in there either, but this information had all come about because of the War of Eras. The book was full of pictures of Wars.
The Ancient Hero gently set the book down on the edge of the balcony and then raised his hands again, rumbling.
“I was obsessed with the idea of remembrance. Of making memories tangible. Of ensuring that they would not be forgotten again.
“Building the temple was only part of that. It was to ensure that future generations would know what the Hero’s Spirit had done. But… I was so afraid. We all knew that the Calamity had only been sealed temporarily, and my research had proven that Heroes rarely got away with one quest.
“I was so terrified that I would have to fight again. That I would fall again. That I would be put back into the Shrine and lose my memories, my sense of self, all over again. I wanted to create a failsafe. Something that would make sure, even if that happened, I could get my memories back.”
He looked over at Wild. Wild blinked. This felt like something that he should understand, something that should-
Oh.
Oh.
He lifted his hands.
“You made the Aspect.”
The Ancient Hero nodded and then snorted. “Word of advice? Don’t go dicking about with magic you don’t understand. Especially not when it contains the words ‘bind’, ‘soul’, and ‘inanimate object’. It was supposed to just. Have my memories stored inside it. So that if I forgot I could wear it again and get them back.”
Wild hummed. “But it didn’t work that way.” he guessed.
The Ancient Hero shrugged. “I didn’t know that until a long, long time later. It became part of my normal clothing, I wore it most days. I felt safer with it on. Then, when I became an old man and died, my spirit did not pass on. Not fully. I ended up here, instead, and for however many years between my death and you finding the belt, I was nothing more than a poe.”
Wild nodded. “And then I put it on.” he said.
“And then you put it on.” the Ancient Hero agreed. “And I woke up. And realised that I hadn’t just put my memories into the damn thing. I’d put a fragment of my own soul. I had been able to find something like rest while it was locked away, but when it was awakened again I regained consciousness. And I realised how grave my mistake had been.
“It was never meant to transform the wearer. To reshape their body. I… do not know exactly why it then became stuck on you. Perhaps it was just a reaction to the portal that you were pulled through. I… suspect that it transformed you so readily because you are, as I am, descended from the Zonai. Perhaps even descended from my own line. I had five children, it is certainly possible… so perhaps that is the reason.
“But please believe me when I tell you, it was never meant to do this. Never meant to transform anyone, never meant to be even used by anyone other than me.
“I was frightened. And that fear made me reckless. And because I was reckless, I created something that has done you harm.
“Wild. Link. I am so, so sorry.”
For a long moment, WIld said nothing. He turned from where he was perched on the balustrade of the balcony and instead leaned on it, looking out over the water. It had turned dark now, the poe and the memories gone from its surface. Only the fireflies darted about now, bright and tiny and glimmering in the distance.
Was all of this; getting stuck, this struggle, all of it - what? An accident? Wild couldn’t believe it. Not after everything. He couldn’t bear it. If it was all for nothing, then why had none of the greater powers he had met helped him? Ordona? Hylia? Why had Fi not just told him?
“Why here?” he asked at last, turning back to the Ancient Hero. “You’re trapped here, right? But why this place? Why not your home? Or the Temple of Time?”
The Ancient Hero blinked and then shrugged, looking over at the water.
“I-” he began. “I think that I was here before. The water, I mean. The Spring. I think… I think that when I was in the Shrine, when my body was being healed, my soul came down here. I think for that century, or for most of it, I wasn’t up there. I think that I was down here, on the water. I think I was a poe.”
Wild nodded, thinking. He lifted his hands.
“I think that I was too.” he said. “I think… I think I woke up a few times, in the Shrine. And my soul was dragged back up and it was… frightening. But I think that most of the time I was down here, too.”
Wild stopped and thought for a moment, thinking over what he had been told, both here by the Ancient Hero and in the months leading up to this. Ordona. Hylia. Fi. Everything.
He looked back.
“What were your children called?” he asked.
The Ancient Hero rumbled in surprise, but nodded. His eyes softened.
“Demel. Popla. Meribor. Batai. And Jio. Three girls and two boys. And my wife was called Ebara.” he sighed softly. “I miss them. I’m tired. I… wish that I could see them again. Instead of being stuck here.”
Wild nodded and repeated their names back to him. He purred softly.
“I won’t forget their names.” he promised. Then paused. When he spoke again, it was slow. Careful. “The spirit inside the Master Sword told me that Remembrance is Healing. I- I’m not sure that it was an accident that I ended up like this after all. Not really.”
The Ancient Hero tilted his head but said nothing, waiting for Wild to go on.
“I think Hylia knew that you were lost. Stuck here. And I think, maybe, that I’m not here for you to set me free. I think I’m here to set you free.”
All of a sudden, it had all clicked in his mind. It made sense.
The Ancient Hero had been alone. Terrified of losing himself, so frightened that he had sealed a piece of his soul into a belt and denied himself his own, long awaited, hard earned rest. And yes, maybe it was a little out of the norm, but ultimately the Ancient Hero - Link - was a spirit trapped by his own unfinished business. His own fear of forgetting, of being forgotten.
Remembrance is Healing.
The doing is in the learning.
If Wild hadn’t been stuck in the Aspect. If he hadn’t needed to struggle and research and seek out information to try and change back, he would never have learned about the Ancient Hero. Would never have heard his story. Would never have dreamed of going back into the Shrine and would never have met his predecessor. His ancestor.
This was no accident, but neither was it a deliberate choice of the Ancient Hero’s. This was Hylia’s doing. This was where he was meant to be.
“Ever since I got stuck.” Wild continued, “I’ve been trying to take the Aspect off. But I’m not sure that it’s me who needs to let it go.”
And he looked down at where the Ancient Hero was wearing a twin to Wild’s own belt. He purred softly, and reached out to squeeze the other Hero - his brother - ‘s arm.
“I won’t let you be forgotten.” he said. “I swear it. Link. Husband of Ebara. Father of Demel and Popla and Meribor and Batai and Jio. Friend of Zelda the Sixty Sixth. Hero of Hyrule and Defeater of the First Great Calamity. I will never let you be forgotten.”
Wild held the Ancient Hero’s gaze as both of their eyes filled with tears. The other Hero sniffled, lifting up a hand to cover his mouth, trying to hide how he sobbed.
“I-” he said, “I never wanted to do any harm.”
Wild purred softly. “I know. It’s okay.”
Tears now spilled free over the Ancient Hero’s cheeks as his shoulders trembled. Wild acted on instinct, rushing forwards and pulling him into a hug, holding him close. He purred softly as his brother sobbed into his shoulder, stroking his hair, rubbing his back. They stood there for a long moment, clinging to each other, comforting each other.
Saying goodbye.
Finally, though, the Ancient Hero pulled back and sniffed. He took a deep breath and while his hands still trembled a little as he raised them, his signs were even. Clear.
“Tell Wind that as the leader of Cat Island, he’s an honorary citizen.” he quipped, rumbling in amusement. Then, he took a deep breath. He nodded. “I’m ready.”
“I’ll be right here.” Wild promised him. “And I won’t forget. I won’t let you be forgotten.”
The Ancient Hero purred, lower lip trembling, eyes still bright with tears.
“Thank you, Wild.” he said. “Thank you for everything.”
And he undid the clasp of his belt.
And the world turned white.
-
Twilight sat with his fists clenched, knuckles white under his skin.
The time on the side of the basin - he had to stop thinking of it like a coffin, he had to - said that it had almost been a full hour. But if felt like so much longer, an eternity spent waiting here in this small, dimly lit room, waiting for his brother to come out of the thing that had once been his grave.
Even had he and Age been more talkative types, something told him that this tomb room would still have been silent as they waited. Even Purah stayed quiet once the lid had gone down, watching and waiting.
It was only in those last few moments that the silence was broken.
“We’re reaching completion.” Purah said in that dry, scientific tone that Twilight knew in his heart was put on to mask her nerves. “Programme ending in ten, nine, eight-”
Twilight felt his stomach clench and then twist. He looked over at Age and realised with a start that his younger brother was crying. Slow, silent tears were tracking down his cheeks, his eyes wide with stress. Twi reached out and nudged his arm, gently taking and squeezing his hand.
Age looked at him, for a moment looking shocked, and then nodded, squeezing back.
They said nothing else. Purah’s countdown continued.
“Seven. Six. Five. Four.”
He was going to be sick. At his side, in the other hand to the one that held onto Age, he had already pulled his ball and chain from his pack. Just in case he had to smash Wild out of there. Just in case something went wrong. From the corner of his eye he could see Age reaching for his own weapon.
“Three. Two. One.”
The yellow lights around them, all at once, turned off. The thrum of the Shrine powered down. For a moment, just a bare moment, they were left in silent darkness.
And then the lights reignited, this time in blue. There was a hiss of shifting mechanisms, a hum of power, and slowly, steadily, the lid of the basin began to lift.
The light from inside was immense, the liquid that Twi had watched his brother be submerged in only an hour ago gleaming bright and all consuming. Even though he wanted to look, wanted to check that his brother was okay, he had to bring up an arm to shield his eyes from the light.
But the water began to slowly drain out and its light began to dim, and Twi could begin to see what was happening.
The first thing that he saw when he looked was the edge of the basin and a hand gripping it, steadying itself, ready to pull the owner up.
A small hand. Hairless. Fine. Covered in a patchwork of scars, but healthy. Strong. Alive.
Twilight’s breath caught in his throat. Tears leapt to his eyes. He dropped his arms entirely, willing to look into the fading remnants of the bright light if it meant seeing his brother sooner.
“Wild?” came a small, unsteady voice from his side. Age, wide eyed, his guard lowered enough for him to speak aloud.
They crept forwards and looked inside.
In the basin lay a man. Barely more than a boy, maybe in his early twenties. His eyes, half lidded and blinking as he came to, were a bright, clear blue. His hair was long - Ordona, it was long! - and his tanned skin was covered in scars. Familiar scars. Scars that pushed back his hairline and reduced his left ear to a stump. Scars that wound across his throat, that deepened in three crucial places across his chest. Scars that Twilight would recognise anywhere.
His right arm was familiar too, a black, lightly furred prosthetic, now resized to fit the smaller Hylian body. The man lay there, in the slowly draining fluid, in only his underwear.
And an elaborate Zonai belt.
Consciousness finally seemed to stick to him, and Wild looked up at Twilight. He smiled, and his teeth were just slightly sharper than they should have been
“T-” his voice was rough and creaking. But then, given the scars around his throat, given the way that his purrs and rumbles had always sounded, that probably should not have been unexpected. “Twilight? Age?”
Yes, his voice was hoarse. Raw. But his eyes flew wide as the words left his mouth, as their brother heard himself speak for the first time in a year.
All at once he sat up in delight - and then immediately wavered, dizzy, and Twilight had to catch him. Had to catch him, and for once Wild wasn’t so much bigger than he! He was small, wiry, no taller than Hyrule or Legend!
Age rushed in to help, taking Wild’s free hand, tears once again falling freely. That was okay. Wild was crying too, and Twilight was fairly certain that he had joined him a while ago. The three of them clung to each other, three brothers locked in a desperate, loving embrace.
Finally Wild pulled back, sniffling and laughing, just a little.
“It- it worked!” he breathed, knuckling the tears from his eyes. He pulled a face. “Ugh - h-help me out of this thing?”
Twilight didn’t need to be told twice. He hooked his arm under Wild’s shoulders and supported him as carefully - one leg at a time, he swung out of the basin.
Sitting upright, he looked around at them all, his lips finally twisted into a real, joyful grin. Yes, the scars on one side of his face may have been stiff, may have stopped it from lifting as high as on the other, but Wild was back in his body now. He could smile again.
He took another deep breath and then took both Twi and Age by the hand, squeezing gently. Then he hopped up to his feet.
He wavered briefly, unused to this body, to these legs, and then, still holding their hands, he took a step forwards.
And something unexpected followed.
They all looked around, a mixture of shock and puzzlement and bemusement in their expressions.
“Huh.” Wild said after a moment, looking at the tail that now sprouted from the end of his spine. “That’s new.”
It wasn’t quite the same as the one he had had before. Its fur was shorter and a softer grey, the tip the same blond as his hair. Twilight wasn’t sure if he should be alarmed or not, but Wild seemed okay with it, so surely that was all that mattered.
They didn’t leave the chamber immediately. Twilight stopped Wild as he stepped forwards and draped his own pelt over his bare shoulders, and Purah had a few tests to run - she wanted to check that Wild’s vital signs were stable, that he was doing alright after waking - but it wasn’t long before she accessed the panel in the wall, and they were all able to go outside to meet the others.
The daylight in the exit tunnel was bright after an hour spent in the dim gloom of the Shrine. If this was how hard it was to adjust after so little time, Twilight dreaded to think how it had been for Wild after a century.
But Wild himself seemed fine with the change in lighting, and when Twilight looked around, he realised that the tail swishing between his legs was not the only thing that he had kept from the Aspect. His pupils, in the bright daylight, had narrowed to slits, and several strands of his long hair were still a bright, fiery red.
Wild saw him looking and peered down at himself. He chuckled.
“Guess I got to keep all the best bits.” he croaked. “At least I don’t have to break it to Groose that I’m not really ginger now.”
Twilight couldn’t help but laugh, and squeezed his hand all the tighter as they finally stepped outside, to where the rest of the Chain waited.
Honestly, looking back at it? The Rancher couldn’t blame them for their stunned silence. They had, after all, been expecting Twilight, Age, and Purah to emerge with their seven foot tall lion-man brother. Not with a short, reedy blond who was basically naked.
The Chain had leapt to their feet as they emerged, but at their silence, their slack jaws and wide eyes, Wild only chuckled.
“Hi guys.” he said, briefly letting go of Twi’s hand to wave. “Nice to meet you. I’m Wild.”
And then chaos descended.
-
It took a long time. Despite his initial wind of energy, Wild was exhausted by whatever had happened to him in the Shrine. They sat there for a while, on the ledge overlooking the Kingdom of Hyrule, each of them taking turns to hold him close, to squeeze him into a hug, to take his face in their hands and look into his eyes and for all of them to come together and weep with joy.
As the sun began to set, they made their way back to the hubbub and crowds of the marketplace. Unity suggested that they make use of the royal apartments by the Temple, but not one of the Heroes much fancied being waited on and fawned over, so they rented out an entire floor of the local inn and helped Wild to make his way there.
(It was only when they all got inside and flopped down that it occurred to them that they probably should have helped him to put some clothes on.)
(oops!)
(oh, well.)
The next few days were… well. They were nothing short of bizarre. Filled with helping Wild to get used to his old, own body once again, with the Chain themselves adapting to having a Wild who could talk (and apparently did so constantly) and who was not seven feet tall. It was bizarre - and it was wonderful.
Finally, though, after a visit to Castle Town to see Wild and Age’s father and sister, and then to meet Age’s new friends, a portal appeared. This time, though, it was different. This time they knew where they were going, and this time, it would be with an eleventh brother.
“It’s to my era.” Wild said with a certainty that he himself later admitted he had no idea where it came from.
“And I’m coming with you.” Age continued, reaching out to take Wild’s hand. Both of them looked so certain, so determined and comfortable that no one would have even dreamed of contradicting them.
-
It was a week later.
Wild had been right - they had been sent to his era. They had landed at the side of Lake Floria, right by the Ebara Forest, and something about that sent tears to Wild’s eyes, though he wouldn’t say what.
It took them a while to get to his home by Tarrey Town, but Wild insisted that they take their time. He had more than enough horses registered to his name at a nearby stable - and yes, he caught the jealous look in Twilight and Time’s eyes as they saw quite how many he had - and they all were able to mount up and slowly ride across his country, truly able to enjoy the wilderness that he loved.
And now here they were, at his home. Wild had been back in his own body - with a few cool upgrades! - for a week now, and while he was still getting used to it, he had never felt more like himself than he did right now.
They had decided to have a cookout and were all sitting around a campfire outside his home. He could smell the food cooking, but he had a while yet before he needed to tend to it. So instead he sat, curled around Flora, tail looping around her waist, purring softly. Because yes, he had his body and his voice back, but that was another thing that he had realised he could still do.
Wild wasn’t sure exactly why some parts of the Aspect had carried over. It was not by the intention of the Ancient Hero, he was sure. But… he suspected that it might have been a gift from Hylia, making sure that he still had all of his favourite things from that body. A tail. Enhanced vision. Sharper teeth, the ability to purr and to roar. He also still got a not inconsiderable amount of enjoyment from kneading at soft surfaces, but he wasn’t altogether sure that he wouldn’t have liked that before this all started, too.
As it was, he sat there in the flickering firelight as the night drew in around them. The stars winked into existence and the moon, that glowing keeper of secrets, rose overhead.
Wild took a breath.
It was time.
“Can I tell you all a story?” he asked.
His brothers looked around at him, and he didn’t miss the small looks of joy in their expression when they realised that it was him speaking, that he had finally regained what had been taken from him.
“I love stories.” Hyrule said. “Is it happy?”
Wild nodded. “Of course.” he promised. “It’s about a Hero called Link. About the battles he fought, the friends he made, and the family he loved.”
“I’d like to hear that story.” Legend agreed.
Wild smiled and flicked his tail.
He was back where he was meant to be. He was himself again. And yes, he had no doubt that this journey was far from over. He would face many more hardships, he was sure, but for now he was with his brothers. With the one that he loved. He was surrounded by friendship and family and unbreakable bonds.
These people had been with him through some of the darkest times of his life, and they had all come out through the other side, intact, thriving, and happy. This was a story, he knew, that he would share over and over again in the future, with new friends, with old friends, with anyone who would listen, and he would never get tired of telling it.
But here and now, Wild was not going to tell his own story. He had made a promise, after all.
And he intended to keep it.
“Ten thousand years ago, in the Reign of Queen Zelda the Sixty Third, a child was born that was named Link...”