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Triforce of the Gods	By : Frances Category: Zelda > General Views: 1976 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of The Legend of Zelda, nor do I make any money from these writings.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
- 6
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of The Legend of Zelda, nor do I make any money from these
writings.

Triforce of the Gods

Chapter Five: Reflection
“Forgotten child... restore balance to our land...”
Zanna awoke with a start, her heart thumping erratically in her chest. When she realized she’d
been dreaming again, she sighed and let her head fall back onto the mat, rubbing her eyes
wearily. She’d been in this prison cell for a week, and had yet to sleep more than two hours
consecutively. Every time she blinked there was something waiting for her in the darkness.
Zanna wondered if the solitude had anything to do with it.
She did not know what to think about the fact that Link had not liberated her “by sundown,” as
had been his promise. She didn’t know what to think about the fact that she was in one of the
isolated cells with nothing but a narrow slot in the door for sliding in food. It had been seven
days since she’d seen anything but the hand of another living creature, and even that was shielded
by heavy gauntlets. Her world consisted of metal and grime.
Needless to say, she would have given just about anything to have a bath.
But she was not afforded such luxuries. Once a day she was rewarded with bread, water, and
sometimes a piece of cheese. Other than that she was left only to sit and think.
She thought of all kinds of things, although none of them brought her any peace. She tried to
imagine her grandmother, but instantly her stomach would clench as she remembered the sick
Gerudo headed toward the village. The image was quickly pushed away, and Zanna avoided it
with all her might. She thought of Castle Town– of all the people bustling outside the walls of
her cell. She even tuned into them sometimes, poking around and feeling this emotion or that.
None of it was very interesting– lust, boredom, longing, occasionally love. Shallow, standard
sorts of feelings.
Inevitably thinking about Castle Town lead her to think of Fanadi, and the way Zanna had
behaved. The outburst disturbed her. It was uncharacteristic for her to be so cruel– and with so
many hours to imagine the scenario from all sides, she came to realize that she had, in fact, been
extraordinarily cruel. It was strange... something about the fact that the woman had unknowingly
affected Zanna’s interests had filled Zanna with such... rage. She’d been feeling a lot of that
lately– it hounded her, overtaking her in her dreams and shadowing her thoughts when she was
awake. It frightened her.
Zanna had been bitter for a long time, but she’d always been in control of the emotion. Lately,
she felt something feral stirring deep within her– something dangerous and inhuman. Its
slithering touch was slippery and left her feeling chilled to the bone.
It was about the fifth day of her incarceration that she began hearing the voice. At first she
thought she imagined the words, her brain filling them in to fit over some emotion she was
picking up. But the voice persisted, and soon Zanna had to accept that it genuinely existed. It
didn’t seem to pose any threat, at least. Mostly it just whispered soothing words, telling her she
would escape her cell, and that she would cherish freedom with a new understanding of the world
and her place in it.
Oddly enough, she didn’t feel particularly upset about it. The voice often made her feel uneasy,
but there was also something alluring about it... something almost seductive. And for two days,
it had been her only company.
Zanna was mulling over these thoughts when a man suddenly appeared in her cell.
“Din’s fire!” she exclaimed, tumbling over backwards in a fright. She frantically backed into the
wall, staring in disbelief at what had to be an apparition. In the middle of her cell, smirking
confidently with his arms folded over his chest, was a tall and beautiful man. He almost
appeared to be Gerudo, although that was quite impossible. His skin was a beautiful glowing
mocha and his hair was even redder than Resha’s– it looked liked fire that had been spun into
silk. Heavy-lidded golden eyes watched Zanna with unnerving shrewdness.
“Who are you?” she asked, astonished. “How did you get in here?”
The man’s smirk became even more prominent. “It doesn’t matter who I am. And I’ve been
here all along. I came in with you.” His voice was smooth and sweet– Zanna recognized it
instantly.
“You’re the voice,” she said, eyes widening.
“Smart girl,” the man replied. Zanna couldn’t help but scowl as she noted that for an apparition
he was pretty sarcastic. “So you’ve been here a week, have you?” he asked disdainfully,
wrinkling his nose as he glanced about. “Why?”
Zanna finally relaxed enough to register that he was wearing no shirt– just a pair of pants one
would expect to see in the desert– and she blushed profusely under her scarf. “W-well, I can’t
get out,” she stuttered. “What am I supposed to do, bust through the wall? And then battle my
way out of the castle and all the way through Castle Town?” she scoffed.
The man shrugged. “If you like,” he said lazily. “A little messy for my tastes, but to each her
own.”
Zanna snorted. “That’s impossible. There are far too many guards here; it would be suicide.”
“Oh, I doubt that,” he murmured, idly examining the walls of her cell. “I doubt that very much.”
When he came to the wall Zanna was backed against, he cocked his head and looked curiously at
her hands, which were dirty and even a little bloody from how often Zanna had been wringing
them as she paced her cell. “Let me see your hand,” the man said, and reached out for her wrist.
Zanna gasped as his palm went right through her skin.
“You are an apparition,” she said, feeling her heart sink. “I’m going mad.”
The man stared at her a long time, obviously amused. “Well, I certainly hope so,” he said at last,
laughing. Zanna watched him in complete bewilderment as he shook his head and laughed again.
“Stop staring,” he chuckled, “and hold up your hand.”
Zanna frowned at him, but seeing as how he was a construct of her imagination, she couldn’t see
how it would do any harm. She raised her casting hand, palm toward him.
He made a dismissive gesture. “Not that side– let me see the other side.”
Zanna made a face, but his piercing gold eyes revealed no hint of humor. “Well, if you really
want to,” she shrugged and flipped her hand over. “There’s nothing interesting about that side. I
don’t use it quite as often as I use the other side,” she said drily. “You know, the casting side.”
The man chuckled again, studying the contours of her hand with unnerving focus. He was
somehow delighted by her words, though Zanna had no idea why. Which was odd, considering
she was the one dreaming the whole thing up– the man wasn’t even real.
“Perhaps that’s your problem,” he said absently, examining her knuckles. “Hm. Very strange.”
He peered up at her, as if she were a rune he was trying to decipher. Slowly he pulled back,
returning to the center of the cell and folding his arms over his chest again. “The Goddesses
have chosen you,” he said casually, his eyes running over her parka and the Sheikah symbol it
carried.
Zanna snorted. “Bullshit.”
The man’s eyes danced and he smirked, raising a single, perfectly arched eyebrow. “I am in
complete agreement,” he said. “But the good news is that what has been done cannot be undone.
You can make them pay for their choice.”
Zanna felt her skepticism fade into something new– a strange, icy feeling that swept through her
veins like adrenaline. The monster inside of her stirred. “What do you mean?” she asked softly.
“Use the power they gave you to wreak havoc on their land,” he shrugged, rubbing his chin
speculatively. “Kill their priestesses, desecrate their shrines, destroy their artifacts. You’re a
clever girl, I’m sure you don’t need me to plan it all out for you.” His eyes never left hers, but he
began to slowly cross back and forth in front of her. Zanna felt like she had accidentally stepped
into a lion’s den.
“I don’t have the resources to do all that,” she protested warily, wishing there was room to back
away from the apparition.
“Oh, but you do,” he said fervently, stepping close so that she had to crane her neck to look up
into his catlike yellow gaze. “You have it as I had it, and a long line of valiant crusaders before
me.”
Zanna’s head was spinning; she couldn’t look away from his eyes, but his presence was making
every nerve in her body crackle with energy– she felt like she was going to combust.
“Crusaders?” she asked, flustered, trying to push him away but unable to because her hands went
right through him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Heroes,” the man said, and the word cut the silence of the cell like the snap of a whip. “Heroes
who used their gift to rage against the Goddesses and their cruel tyranny. You are the heir to that
lineage, Zanna. It is your turn to raise your sword to the heavens.”
Zanna’s heart was pounding in her ears, and she was beginning to feel as if the room was getting
smaller every minute. “I don’t understand you,” she insisted weakly. “You’re making me feel
ill; I want you to leave.”
“You must listen to me Zanna,” he said quickly, bringing his face so close to hers that their noses
may have been overlapping. “You must punish the Goddesses for their arrogance–“
“I want you to leave!” Zanna said again.
“It is your destiny to do so; to fight it would be pointless– let me help you–“
“I don’t want to listen, just get out of here!” Zanna pleaded, covering her ears, but the voice was
still audible.
“You are the face of evil itself; you are death; you are vengeance; you are a hero–”
“I SAID LEAVE ME ALONE!” Zanna screamed. There was a loud cracking noise and she felt
some energy leave her body as if she’d cast a spell. Before the words had even completely left
her mouth the man disappeared as swiftly as he’d arrived, leaving Zanna alone in the ringing
silence of her cell.
She hadn’t noticed that she’d been crying, but her face was streaked with tears and her breathing
was ragged. A horrible sinking feeling settled upon her, and the back of her spell casting hand
was aching with a burning ferocity. Trembling, she sank uncertainly onto her mat and buried her
head in her hands.
“I’ve gone mad,” she whispered. “I’ve gone utterly mad.”

oXoXoXo
It was no surprise that Zanna’s sleep was even more disturbed after her visitor. She had
difficulty eating, and found herself pacing her cell, looking over her shoulder every couple of
steps to make sure nothing had popped out of the walls again. She had bitten her nails down to
stumps, and now her hands were bloody and sore. Every minute was excruciating– the isolation
was killing her slowly.
She had spent a lot of time screaming and banging at the door– something she’d resisted the urge
to do up until that point– but no matter how loudly she pleaded, cried, or swore the guards would
not answer her. Perhaps no one was even there. And spells, she discovered, were useless. The
room had been carefully warded against any sort of magical attack, so that even if Zanna had
been crazy enough to take her apparition’s advice, she couldn’t act on it. Days passed, but Zanna
could no longer keep track of them.
All the while her fury against the royal family was swelling. The monstrous rage would slip its
head out of the murky waters of Zanna’s heart at the most unexpected times, and Zanna would
find herself trembling with the desire for revenge. Eventually she would remember her visitor’s
words and would instantly be struck with horror. “You are the face of evil itself; you are death;
you are vengeance...”
“SHUT UP!” Zanna screamed, covering her ears to block out the memory, but the effort was in
vain.
Could it be? Could she really be an instrument of evil? It broke her heart to think so. But then
again, perhaps it was... heroism, as the apparition had called it. Was it heroism to fight the gods?
It could not be denied that they had betrayed their people, unleashing horrible evil into the
world... But then, to fight evil with evil didn’t seem right. In fact, if the Goddesses wanted to
unleash evil, wouldn’t fighting them with evil only help them with their cause? How could one
take even a single step that did not ultimately serve the Goddesses’ great plan?
Zanna rubbed her forehead in frustration and forced the thoughts out of her mind. She was so
confused, and she had never felt more lonely in her entire life.
As weariness overwhelmed her for the hundredth time, she laid down on her mat and tried to
remember what it was like to be surrounded by people she loved. She could not convince
herself, but the images were strong enough to lull her into an uneasy sleep.

oXoXoXo
Pain. Ripping, cleaving pain unlike anything she had ever experienced. Tearing, clawing at her
skin, pulling the hair out of her head– she could feel teeth on her flesh.
Zanna’s eyes snapped open and she bolted upright, but the sensations did not stop. She gasped
and shuddered as wave after wave of emotion rolled over her– terror, grief, madness, frenzy– and
the pain went on and on...
She doubled over and fell onto her hands and knees, trying to scream but unable to do so. The
metallic taste of blood filled her mouth, and Zanna’s face contorted in disgust. She summoned
every ounce of her willpower and forced herself up, leaning heavily against the wall, and devoted
all her strength to locating the source of the feelings. Along with the barrage of other people’s
emotions, Zanna was filled with her own horror because she knew that in order to feel empathy
this strongly someone she loved had to be in terrible danger...
She reached out with her mind, and gave a cry of sorrow when she realized it was coming from
about 25 miles away... high up... in the mountains...
Zanna’s body jerked with another wave of pain and she tumbled to the floor again, but this time
she did not get up. She simply laid there and let it overcome her.

oXoXoXo
It seemed as though the pain would never ebb away, but it did. And the silence it left behind was
infinitely more agonizing.
Zanna pulled her knees up to her chest and leaned against the wall, shaking. Her eyes would not
focus, no matter how hard she tried to collect herself. One thought shot through her mind, over
and over again: They’re all dead.
Why hadn’t she gone back to village when she realized the infected Gerudo were headed that
way? Why didn’t she send her grandmother a warning the second she’d stepped foot into Castle
Town? Why had she left at all?
They’re all dead.
And it was Zanna’s fault.
If she hadn’t been so stubborn, hadn’t insisted on starting with Fanadi despite Link’s protest, she
would never have been arrested. Maybe they would have found the real Winged Sheikah and her
village could have been spared.
They’re all dead.
It was inconceivable. Everyone she knew, except for Resha and Rowan... gone. Her home
village a ghost town. Their bodies...
Zanna groaned but she could not stop the images from coming. Their mutilated bodies left to
freeze in the snow, with no one to tend to them, no one to give them a proper burial. Perhaps
there wasn’t even enough left to bury. Perhaps the Gerudo...
They’re all dead.
Goddesses, please let the bodies be in tact.
They’re all dead.
Have mercy! The thought of Cedra or Helyn being disassembled like rag dolls–
They’re all...
Zanna let out a cry of grief and sobbed so violently she thought her body would break apart. Her
heart felt as though it had been permanently cleft in two, and although she tried desperately to
wish herself out of existence, she remained on the floor, and the sobbing would not cease.

oXoXoXo
What happened over the next few days was a dreamlike blur of faces and sounds fading in and
out of the darkness. Zanna’s eyelids became too heavy to keep open, and her entire body ached.
She was freezing, but she did not have the strength to get up and move around, so she could only
lie still and wait. Eventually there was a pair of hands in the blackness, and the murmur of
voices.
“How long has it been since she ate her rations?”
“I think this is the second day she’s gone without them, Sir.”
A gentle hand was placed on Zanna’s forehead, and after her time in isolation it was the most
wonderful feeling in the world. “She’s burning up. I think we better get her out of here.”
“Do you really think that’s wise, Sir? The Princess–“
“I’m aware of the Princess’s instructions, soldier. But if we don’t get her to the medical wing I
doubt she’ll last much longer. The Hero would be furious if we let that happen.”
“That’s true, Sir.”
There were arms now, shifting Zanna, pulling her upright. She could not even summon the
strength to lift her head.
“It’s freezing in here– no wonder she caught ill. It’d have been no surprise if she’d died in here
before those damn bureaucrats agreed on whether or not she’s even a real prisoner! All right,
soldier, lift her up.”
“If it’s all the same, Sir... I’d rather not be seen taking her to the medical wing.”
“I wasn’t aware we hired you so that we could serve your preferences! Now pick her up,
soldier!”
There was a shift of gravity, and then Zanna slipped back into unconsciousness.

oXoXoXo
The next time her senses stirred, Zanna was surrounded by the sound of an argument. There
were at least four people, all of them raising their voices and talking too fast for Zanna’s sluggish
mind to keep up with.
“– if you hadn’t insisted on interviewing the entire council–“
“I cannot do what needs to be done on my authority alone, that would have been a truly unwise
decision.”
“This isn’t a political frolic, this is a life. She has committed no crime!”
“I sincerely wish it were that simple, my friend.”
“Please, Your Majesty, let us go. I want to take her back to our village healer– forgive me, but
your doctors–”
“Your doctors couldn’t treat a scraped knee!”
“You show some respect, peasant!”
“Oh, stuff it, Lyonel–“
“Please be civil. I have assigned to her the most skilled doctors in all of Hyrule. I implore you to
understand that my primary concern is for my people–“
“She’s one of your people– her village is in your jurisdiction.”
“Your Highness, excuse my frankness but I feel this is all very unnecessary. Why risk the
devastation of your entire country?”
“I don’t like your tone, you snot-nosed–“
“I will thank you not to speak to my advisor that way.”
“Forgive me, Princess, but–“
“Your Majesty, if the end result is going to be the same, it doesn’t seem prudent to waste so
much time and effort, it’s–“
“You’re disgusting–”
“– essentially styling the hair of a man on his way to the chopping block–“
“Hey!!”
“Please, don’t–“
“Princess, you can’t possibly take his words seriously. The royal family is respected for its
fairness–“
“And its strength! To throw away 20 generations of rule for the life of one peasant is not–“
“You just shut up!”
“Enough! I regret allowing this subject to escalate in such an improper setting. I assure you no
harm will come to this woman while she is recuperating in my castle– you have my word. Once
she is healed, we will discuss these grave matters in the presence of the council.”
“Thank you for the visit, Your Highness...”
“Oh, I think we’ve woken her. Zanna? Can you hear me?”
But exhaustion was settling upon her like a blanket of snow, and the voices gradually became
more and more muffled...

oXoXoXo
She couldn’t breathe– her nose was flattened and her face smothered by something very soft and
very buoyant.
“Oh, Lyonel, you’re suffocating her...”
Cold hands as smooth and rigid as bone tilted Zanna’s head to the side and she felt air flow into
her lungs. The hands then moved to her back, slowly sliding her shirt up so that her back was
bare.
“There it is, Your Majesty.”
“You shouldn’t have investigated this on your own, Lyonel– I can’t express how disappointed I
am.”
“In my methods, perhaps, but can you deny that this was worth sacrificing propriety? These
scars on her back– look at them– are they not the markings you saw in your dream? This woman
is the Winged Sheikah.”
“Cover her, please. She has suffered enough indignity.”
“I... Of course, Your Highness.”
“You must not say a word about this until she awakens.”

oXoXoXo
When Zanna next came around, it was the first time in what felt like eons that she was aware of
her arms and legs. Her eyelids were cracked, and she saw a sliver of candle light that was like
watching the sun come over the mountains. Cautiously she opened one eye, wincing at the
brightness of the room, and then opened the other as she adjusted.
She was in a luxurious four-poster bed, with red velvet curtains pulled back on either side.
Oddly enough, she was wearing her scarf, but other than that she seemed to be clothed only in
some sort of nightgown. The room itself was lit by numerous wall-mounted candles, and was of
an average size. There was a large window to the right of the bed, and Zanna could see a few
stars glittering in the darness. To her left was a small table and a brown armchair– occupied by a
sleeping (snoring) Resha.
Zanna shifted her weight and propped herself up against the headboard, shocked at the amount of
effort it required. She felt shaky all over, as if she were held together by jelly. “Resha?” she
called– or at least, tried to call. It came out more like a ragged, incoherent whisper. Her throat
was painfully dry and rough.
Zanna swallowed and tried again. “Resha!”
The sleeping woman awoke with a snort, jumping up and nearly falling backwards over the chair.
“Say wha–?” she answered groggily, and then her eyes settled on Zanna.
“Zanna! You’re awake!” she cried, beaming. She kneeled by the bed and took Zanna’s hand,
placing a forceful kiss atop her knuckles. “You have no idea how relieved I am. Do you know
where you are? How do you feel?”
Zanna blinked, trying to compute the statements. “I– yes. Do you have water?” She sounded
like a toad that had barely escaped a forest fire; her voice wasn’t even recognizable.
Resha smacked herself on the forehead and leapt up, crossing to a table on the far wall. “Of
course. I’m sorry you must be parched. Rowan managed to force some water upon you once or
twice a day, but it was barely enough to keep you alive, or course...” She filled a metal tankard
from a hardy looking pitcher and placed the glass in Zanna’s hands.
Once she started drinking, Zanna found it impossible to stop. The cool, crisp water was possibly
the most magnificent thing she’d ever tasted, and her body craved more of it.
“Don’t drown yourself,” Resha teased, but she cheerfully refilled Zanna’s cup when she had
finished.
After she’d managed to quiet her thirst, Zanna’s thoughts turned to the plethora of questions that
were buzzing in the back of her brain like a behive. “How long was I in jail? And how long
have I been here? Where am I, anyway?” Her voice was still husky from misuse, but she at least
sounded like herself.
Resha sighed heavily. “You’re in the castle, in the ‘medical wing...’ which I can’t tell apart from
any of the other wings, frankly.” She made a face, and then her eyes filled with uncharacteristic
sympathy as she studied her friend. “I’m so sorry, Zanna. You were held for just over two
weeks before you fell ill, and you were in and out of consciousness for four days after that. It’s
been almost three weeks,” Resha explained gently.
“Three weeks?” Zanna echoed. Three weeks since... She frowned. It seemed as though there
should be some pain, some sensation of grief or loss... but there was nothing. She felt utterly
empty.
“You can be sure we were doing everything we could to try and get you out, but they wouldn’t
listen– not even to Link!” Resha threw up her hands in exasperation, clearly still outraged by the
situation. “I was about to gut him on the spot when he told me he wasn’t sure when you’d be
released, but he’s fought pretty hard for you over the past couple of weeks. He’s a good guy.”
Zanna nodded numbly. “Yes. I’ll have to thank him.”
Resha’s face became concerned as she watched Zanna closely. “Are you all right? Do you need
to rest?”
“No!” Zanna protested, perhaps a little too fervently. “I mean, no... It’s been three weeks since I
could talk to another person. I’m just glad you’re here,” she said with a crooked smile.
Resha scowled. “Bastards,” she spat. “The big wigs around here have no class. They wouldn’t
even fully explain why you had to be imprisoned.”
“Did they say anything at all?” Zanna asked, gently setting her cup of water on the side table. “I
don’t have a clue– I didn’t do anything wrong. Not that I was aware of anyway,” she muttered
drily.
“The little Princess had some sort of, of ‘vision’–“ Resha said this with such disdain that Zanna
had to laugh– “that you were a threat to Hyrule. Bullshit. Utter bullshit.” The towering woman
was on her feet now, pacing the length of the room and clenching her fists. Zanna could tell it
had been awhile since Resha had had the opportunity to hit something. “You!” she exclaimed,
eyes wide with disbelief. “I don’t know what the hell they’re thinking, but it’s no good. I’m
worried about you Zanna, I really am. Rowan and I don’t have a clue what’s going on, and we’re
practically prisoners here ourselves. This whole thing has been strange from the start...” Resha
stopped suddenly, worriedly checking Zanna to see if her outburst had upset her. “I’m sure
everything will be fine, of course,” she added awkwardly.
Zanna gave a bark of laughter, which she instantly regretted on account of the fact that it sent her
into a coughing fit. “Ouch! Don’t make me laugh!” she sputtered, her shoulders still shaking as
she tried to quiet her amusement.
Resha grinned. “It’s good to see that you’re well. Rowan and I thought that maybe...” she trailed
off uncertainly, but then just forced another smile and flopped back into her chair. “Well, I’m
just glad to see you, that’s all.”
Zanna snorted. “Believe you me, the feeling is mutual. I never realized what poor company I
was until I had to spend two weeks alone. I don’t know how you all put up with me.”
“Patience,” Resha smirked. “Lots and lots of patience.”
“Speaking of patience, I’m about to go crazy if I don’t get this scarf off of my face. Why am I
wearing this, and what happened to–“ Zanna’s eyes widened in alarm– “My coat! Where’s my
coat?”
“Right here,” Resha said quickly, reaching beside the chair and pulling up Zanna’s wolfos-pelt
coat. “The rest of your clothing was sent to the wash.”
Zanna relaxed, nodding. “That’s all right, I guess. But what about this scarf?” She started to
unwrap it but Resha reached out and grabbed her wrist.
“You might not want to do that,” the Gerudo said gravely.
“Why?” Zanna laughed in bewilderment, but the solemnity of her friend’s gaze stopped her.
“They’ve violated your rights in a multitude of ways,” Resha said heatedly. “But Rowan and I
fought with all our might to keep your face hidden, on cultural grounds... not to mention the fact
that if you are really some prophetic harbinger of evil, your personal identity hardly matters.”
She rolled her eyes, briskly adjusting the bottom of Zanna’s scarf so that it was less constricting.
“I know you don’t care much about that tradition, but it was the only way we could show them
we weren’t going to let them take away your honor, you know?”
Zanna blushed, feeling almost embarrassed by how deeply her friends’ efforts moved her.
“Thank you, Resha,” she said, stiffly but sincerely. “That was... well, thanks.”
Resha grinned. “We love you too,” she said, settling back into her chair with a sigh. “I just can’t
wait until this all sorts itself out and we can go home. I’ve had it up to here with Hylian
hospitality.”
The words sent a cold chill down Zanna’s spine, and she remembered that Rowan and Resha had
no clue what had become of the village. She swallowed, attempting to scrape together the
courage to say the words that would carry such a devastating impact. “Resha...” she said slowly,
her heartbeat stepping up a notch.
“Yeah?” Resha asked, brow furrowing. “What is it, are you feeling sick again?”
“No, I’m fine,” Zanna assured her. “Well, not... fine.” She opened her mouth but immediately
closed it again, desperately searching Resha’s face– as if begging her to understand without
making Zanna say it.
“What is it?” Resha said again, this time with a note of alarm. She sat forward, her eyes
flickering all over Zanna and the surrounding room as if looking for some disturbance.
Zanna took a shuddering breath. “The village is gone.” She lowered her eyes, waiting for an
explosive reaction... but Resha just snorted and returned to her chair.
“Is that all?” she asked, trying not to laugh.
“What do you mean, is that all?” Zanna was aghast.
“Come on, Zanna, you’ve been asleep with a fever for days– I don’t doubt that you’ve had some
very interesting dreams.” She realized that Zanna was not bending, and smiled widely.
“Seriously, Zan. We sent a message just a few days ago letting them know what was happening.
It’s still there, I promise you.”
“And did you hear back from them?” Zanna shot back harshly. “Has the messenger returned?”
Resha shrugged. “Well, no, but... The hidden passage has been sealed. The journey is long.”
Zanna shifted and sat up more fully, feeling the memory of the pain settle upon her like the
shadow of a passing cloud. She locked eyes with her friend and leaned forward, although it took
all of her strength to do so. “Resha, before I got sick I... I felt the village dying. The way I felt
my parents die. The Gerudo got through the tunnel, and they found the village– I know it. Please
believe me. I imagined some strange things in my cell but this, I swear to you, was as real as the
chair you’re sitting on.”
Resha paled considerably, but she remained as still as if she were carved out of stone. “That
can’t be,” she said softly. “Everyone in the village knows sorcery– they could easily defend
themselves against the Gerudo we saw in the tunnel.”
Zanna shook her head helplessly. “I don’t know why or how it happened, Resha. But I felt it.
They’re... they’re gone. All of them, I think, but I can’t be sure.”
For the first time Zanna could remember, Resha’s eyes filled with tears, which she held back
with a stoicism that almost made Zanna want to join her. “How could that be?” the Gerudo
protested weakly, but her expression made it clear that she believed it, no matter how shocking it
seemed.
It was at that moment that the door swung open with alarming violence, and a shaken Rowan
appeared in the doorway. “Resha, the messenger’s returned, he says–“
“I know,” she interjected, turning quickly to face him. “I... I already know.”
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Triforce of the Gods