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The Weeping Man (Part Three)
sunflower, water
inlustris

The Weeping Man
The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time/Twilight Princess fanfiction
(C) Nintendo
-- Rating: PG-13 
-- Genre: Supernatural/Friendship
-- Characters: Impa
-- Warnings: Violence
{FFN Crossposting}

Beta'd by my BFFOFATS. She kindly allowed me the use of her right brain. She's cool.



Dona eis requiem
Amen.

- o -

"After you destroy the Shadow Magic, you must then also kill Sheik."

Impa remembered how horrifying the command was, and how she had neglected to not allow it to show on her face.

"Why?"

"He will consider it a mercy. When you remove his mask, you will understand."

- o -

They crept to the outskirts of the camp later that night when the sun fell and the sky had darkened to a deep blue. The smoke from the fire floated steadily from the center and tall shadows were cast against the rosy light. The Box was still there, still ominous and cold, for all the worship and adoration it had received that day.

As soon as they stepped through the first ring of tents, Impa felt the shadow magic enveloping her. It always felt something like velvet upon the skin when Sheik did it. Whenever she attempted the illusory spells, it felt like a soft, but incessant hum against the skin, eventually leaving an itchy, unpleasant feeling all over. Thus cloaked, they swiftly glided their way through, passing by a few enemy soldiers on the way.

It unnerved her to see so many of the Enemy in one place, their crimson marks running down from their eyes. She tried to feel a hatred for them, remember what they had done to her brother and his comrades. To her dismay, she instead experienced a hollow sense of pity when she saw the painted eye on the doorway flap to every tent.

They are Sheikah, like we are.

Impa shook her head resolutely as they made their way past a single sentry who stared right through them. No, they are the fallen. They are the enemy.

The two warriors took shelter behind one of the last tents before the open courtyard where the Box rested. They took a quick moment to look around, surveying the layout and the rhythm of the sentries' paces.

"We will have to open it, somehow," Sheik said to her after a few moments, his voice so soft she might have heard it inside of her head. "The lid looks very heavy. We must be swift."

"We can use the bombs," Impa added. She touched the bag hanging by her side where she could feel the round bulges protruding against the leather. They watched on again for a little while, straining in the darkness, trying to formulate a plan.

"All right, here's what we'll do. We'll try to get there as swiftly and invisibly as we can. Once we are close enough, I'll strike the starter, and we'll blow open the lid. I can take care of any of the enemy that hears the sound and comes at us, but you go in and destroy the weapon. After that, we will flee as fast as we can, using your illusions."

It sounded like such a feeble plan. It suddenly made her aware exactly how small and helpless she was.

How proud I had been, to immediately think that we could surely do this, even with his power. She glanced anxiously at him, but was unable to glean his thoughts on the manner.

"I think it'll work," he told her, and she allowed herself to be reassured. Flicking open the clasp on her bomb bag, she found the flint and readied a fuse.

"On my count. One… two…"
- o -

"The Kingdom owes you and your people the greatest thanks and the deepest condolences. Speak any request, Impa of the Sheikah, and it will be granted to you."

The human thing was to despise him and the nation he ruled. It was his own decree that had resulted in the very thing for which he was now offering his condolences. But she was far above that now.

She kneeled motionless in the throne room, her face still dirtied, her hair still smelling faintly of smoke. Her head bowed deeply, she kept her right hand in a fist over her chest, presenting the greatest respect to the King, newly crowned over all of Hyrule…

"My sole desire, your majesty, is to carry on the sacred task of my people. I beg to be entered into your service until my life's end."

- o -

When Impa came stumbling back into the camp, her forehead prickling and shoulder bleeding badly, everyone was readying for battle. She barely registered the clinking of armor, the hurried shouts and the suffocating, rushed tension. Her mind was still reeling with what she had seen. She coughed, both with exhaustion and her much neglected cold, but there was no quiet presence beside her to cast her a concerned glance now. This time, she was very much alone. In one hand, she held a strange, purple lens with a handle.

Aiza found her at the edge of the camp in that condition - staring around but not seeing anything, quite hurt, but not realizing the pain.

"Impa! What are you doing?" She sternly grabbed her sister by the wrist to pull a bloodstained hand away from the wounded shoulder.

"What?" Impa asked dumbly, but a corked flask of red potion was already being forced upon her.

"The King has signaled for us to ride. We are going to fight. They are coming."

When Impa said nothing, Aiza bristled as if there were complicated emotions within that she was attempting to stifle.

"The King has ordered that the Sheikah fight on the front lines. The Hylians have demanded it- it is our people, they say, that have endangered us. It is our responsibility to lead the charge to atone for the crimes of the Enemy."

"Yes," the younger intoned distantly after taking a drink, like one who had already become resigned. She had wanted to fight alongside her own siblings and people, but now that it was her reality, it seemed so very unremarkable.

Aiza was about to say more when an outcry rang out in the distance. The sisters glanced around to see Sheikah warriors and Hylian soldier's alike gasping, shouting and pointing towards the horizon where the sun's morning rays began to peek over the tops of the tents. Then, suddenly, there was the Shadow.

Impa's heart wrenched at the sight, and a dizziness overcame her. The Shadow was like a giant spider on the horizon, blocking out the influences of the early sunlight, leaving spots in her vision. It was too familiar now.

"I failed," she said, testing the weight of those words on her tongue as she said them. The numbness of the betrayal made her mind slower than her injury or sickness did. Aiza turned to look full into Impa's face, which was now pale with despair, the crest of her cheeks tinged with a hot, sickly orange underneath the white wings.

"Will you fight with us?"

Very slowly, Impa nodded. There was still time for her to fulfill her second mission.

- o -

"What is Truth?" Impa asked the God. His body was still there, laying in her arms, his blood and hers covering them like a warm mantle. Her people were around them, broken like porcelain dolls. The others that were still alive had been banished, to that world between day and night. Perhaps she was the last of their kind. "Is it beautiful or cruel?"

The God held the mirror in perfect hands, and the Light was too glorious for her to bear. She held the dark crystal close to her chest, and wept bitterly.

- o -

With more blood on her hands than ever before, Impa knew somehow that he would be there, beneath the shadow of the Shadow magic, which seemed so natural a place for him. As those immense many arms shone like twilight and stretched out to destroy more of her people, as the white horses and Hylian men behind them drew back in fear, she ran towards it more resolutely, leaving Aiza behind, killing all the red-tear streaked men who had the misfortune to get in her way.

As she dodged steel and took in the stench of magic and blood, she allowed the shadows to guide her in the midst of the growing darkness. Though the fear of death was far beyond her now, there was a definite kind of fear that staggered her. When she dared to look at the Shadow and its extended arms, taking out whole armies of charging Sheikah at a time, she saw something wholly unnatural, wholly other.

Then she remembered how Sheik had gazed upon that crown, that strange sense of longing and revulsion so evident in his stance.

So her heart both leaped and lurched when she realized that her instincts had been correct. He was there after all, standing as a captive among the Interlopers, his face shining in the midst of that darkness. His face…

With her blade glowing, she slipped between the masses of dying men and screaming warriors before she could lose her resolve, her eyes focused only on that figure. And in dream-like quality, the battle raged all around as she traversed the distance between them. Her white hair unfurled and flew behind her like a flickering hot flame.

When she was close enough, she killed the two Interlopers standing closest to him. He must have known that she was close, because when the men fell and died by her hand, he looked very deliberately at her, his blood-colored eyes meeting her own.

Time slowed as he smiled that heart-shattering smile that she had always imagined him having. But there were no tears glistening on his tainted cheek. He rather looked very happy. He was radiant.

"I knew it would be you," he said so quietly that only she could have heard. Then she plunged the shimmering point into his chest, and plunged herself into darkness.
- o -

When the bombs exploded, Impa turned just in time to light another fuse and throw it towards the oncoming guards. As they scattered, she saw Sheik pull off the remains of the partially blasted lid from the corner of her eye. There was a shout being raised all though the camp as lights turned on in the tents.

Impa threw a round of deku nuts to stun the first guards that had reacted to her bomb. As she charged forward to make strategic thrusts with her saber, she realized that the window of time that they had to finish their work and make a successful escape was narrowing at a terrifying rate.

"Sheik!" she shouted, frustrated that he was taking so long to do his part when she was the one fending off their enemies. She caught him staring down at the item in the box, motionless. He was a white mask floating in the dimness, frozen as if in fear. Impa gave the object a quick glance, and noticed something like a crown-or was it a helmet? It was fused together with something that looked like armor.

Realizing she had looked away too long, she gasped and turned back around to make up for her potentially fatal mistake. But instead of finding hundreds of the Enemy running in for the kill, she was shocked to see them crouched on bended knee, their weapons discarded on the ground.

"Sheik!" Impa shouted again, and turned angrily. "You have to destroy it now! What are -"

Then she saw him, his bald head floating beside the white mask, his hand lightly placed upon Sheik's trembling shoulder. He was smiling a cold, fearsome smile. Impa froze.

"It is very familiar to you, is it not?"

Sheik said nothing, but she knew him well enough to know that he was terrified. A cold trickle ran down the length of her back. The bald king was even more savage, more heathen up close. He seemed older, and yet the cosmetics gave him a feminine cast that artificially suggested youth. His darkened eyes and red-streaked cheeks stood out on that impossibly dark skin.

But what was more frightening was the sense of familiarity between the two men.

Impa felt the grip on her blade slacken. Without paying the slightest bit of attention to Impa, the king of the enemy rounded the Box, his long fingers tracing its damaged edge, his eyes fixed on the masked youth. He seemed to be looking straight through him.

"It is still buried within you… and you managed to survive. How extraordinary. I would be very fascinated to see what it has now become."

"Sheik?" Impa whispered at last. She wished she hadn't, because the king then shifted his gaze onto her, his eyes staring straight through hers. Then, a nasty, thin smile spread across his alien features as he reached into the box to caress one of the four prongs of the crown inside.

Sheik screamed in agony, clutching at his chest and dropping to the ground on his knees. It was different from his usual spasms of pain - the way he held himself now seemed to suggest that he was trying to contain something rather than staunch the pain. The King seemed mildly surprised at this response, but continued to finger the weapon, the slim smile still playing on his lips.

"This has always been your destiny. Even in this twisted existence you have been living - it has not escaped you. Is not proper, for you to come on the eve of our victory? To fight for us, to serve the very powers of darkness that own you and own us?" Sheik sank lower into the ground as Impa flew across the dais to sink her blade into the man's body.

Immediately, she felt something hit her in the shoulder so hard that she found herself flying back and hitting the ground. Her neck twisted as her head made too much friction against the smooth stone floor as her saber clattered across the other side of the dais uselessly. There was a feathered shaft of a large arrow sticking up from between her shoulder guard and breastplate. The enemy warrior who had shot it was only just behind the King, his bow drawn with another arrow.

Then the next part happened so quickly that Impa was barely able to witness it for herself. The King hoisted the crown-like item from the Box, high over his head and shouted a strange and foreign war cry to his people, who roared back, their weapons raised in the air. Then, like he was possessed by another force, he pulled it down over himself until it swallowed him whole.

As immediate as the enormous cry for battle had risen out, an immense silence fell across the camp as the man writhed and bubbled from the inside out. There was something like echoing laughter from the inside of the crown, a psychotic, uncontrollable laughter that made all the hair on Impa's scalp stand on end. They all watched in that silence as the Shadow appeared before their eyes, the King no longer recognizably human.

Remembering her mission, and frantic with the reality that they were about to see the Weapon in all of its power against them, Impa snapped the shaft of the arrow and threw it aside, unable to register the pain for all the adrenaline coursing through her veins. At this point, the monster that was the king convulsed grotesquely, like globs of oil suspended in water, and to her horror, it lashed out at her with a long arm. She sensed a dangerous power there, enough to swallow her whole in eternal, impenetrable darkness…

If she had not been so afraid, she would have been annoyed to find herself on the ground again after being roughly shoved out of the way. Her shoulder throbbed as she attempted to roll to her feet in a slower than usual recovery, and she coughed blood and phlegm into her hand as something hit her lightly on the leg.

Sheik's back stood between her and the Shadow, his arm still thrown back from the motion of pushing her away. The Shadow had grown so large now, and her friend seemed like a force of darkness in himself, his skin shining, his cloak rippling as the Shadow above reared back slightly.

She was confused for a moment, because she thought she saw a hint of the Shadow within him as well. And yet, there was a strange peace about him as he turned to look back at her and make sure she was all right. At once, Impa realized what it was that had hit her on the leg. She knew it without having to look down-but she looked.

The mask was still teetering face-up on the ground, the painted eye staring up at her, that symbol of Truth which had been used to cover up such a great lie.

Because when she saw him for the very first time, taking in every color and detail of his face, she realized she had been betrayed. She hardly moved, hardly breathed when he bent close to her to kiss her forehead and drop something heavy into her hand.

"Impa."

Then she felt the familiar, velvety cloak of his illusory magic covering over her, and she knew he was urging her to run for her life.

As she slipped away unnoticed, the enemy closed in on him, smashing his mask under their feet, taking him by the face and arms, giving a shout as they pointed to him, to the Shadow above them.

"To war! To victory! To war!"

The cries still rang in her ears as she fled towards Hyrule Castle, her hand still holding tightly onto the lens he had given her, her forehead still burning where he had touched her with his lips.

- o -

The older man seemed very tired, and regarded his masked ward gravely.

"Well?" he asked, and Sheik seemed to look back, undaunted, and replied.

"Time is short. Though I was my father's failed experiment in the dark arts, he has now managed to succeed in some other way and has made the ultimate weapon. The news of war tonight is a casual matter. It's the Sacred Realm that they seek-they will march toward Hyrule to claim it, with the most ancient magic of my people in their possession. But it is stronger now, darker."

"Are you sure?"

The young man touched his chest.

"Yes."

"Are you saying that it is your time that is short?" Impa's father was very shrewd. Sheik smiled and lowered his mask to look him in the eye, presenting his naked face to the heavens, unashamed.

"I'd rather that it be." Then, a gentle smile. "Thank you for your kindness for all of these years. To allow me a home in your village, with close association to your daughter… it has granted me new life."

They stood on the hill where they could overlook the rooftops of the village on one side, and the cold stone slabs of the cemetery tombstones on the other. They watched the quietness of Kakariko with great fondness, lost in memory and thought. The cold wind felt foreign and yet welcome on Sheik's bare cheek.

"When I was a child and I woke in the debris of my village, at the destruction and all the dead around me-when I realized what I had done, I never thought it was possible for me to live again. But you were the shield that covered me, you were that mask that hid me away for these years. You saved me then, and she will save me now. She's very special, you know. It's strange, because she thinks that I am the master of the shadows, but she is the one the shadows have chosen. The darkness speaks to her, understands her, and she understands it. I know that much. She will become very great."

When the man said nothing, the youth continued even more quietly. "I will help her to end this, once and for all. That is the last thing that I ask of you."

"I am sorry, Sheik."

He replaced his mask and looked up at the starry sky, his breath silky in the cold night air. He was just about to say that he was too, but the words changed in his mouth, and he himself was surprised by them.

"But I am not."
- o -

The Darkness was not as cold as she had thought it would be. It was warm, like the velvet of Sheik's illusory spells, blanketing every inch of her. She heard a faint drumming and the sounds of battle still raging around her, and straining to see through the blackness, she reached out and felt something soft and wet. The Darkness was coming from it, out like a cloud.

Then, there was something glowing. Not glowing as how light glowed, but glowing with a pulsating quality, still dark. When her ears finally registered the sound ringing out all around her, she realized that it was Sheik calling her name.

Frantic now, she touched the wet, soft thing, feeling something invisible and evil writhing beneath the blade she had thrust there. It was so very close, and the blackness continued to flood outward in a web-like quality, as it escaped, finally freeing itself from its carnal vessel.

Once freed, it roared all around her; she could feel its presence, though she could not see it. Someone close to her screamed, and she could hear how that person's flesh was ripped open by the new force. Blood and limbs spurted out, and close to that freshly killed man, another person vainly fought the invisible foe, only to meet a similarly gruesome fate that sprayed Impa with flecks of blood and other, more solid debris.

It was terrible, but Impa clung on, kneeling down, holding his body close, feeling the wetness against her cheek as if it would protect her. She knew that the other Shadow, the one that had been the interloping King and his ultimate weapon, was also still prowling the skies like a spider, thrashing, killing, destroying, just as the one that had been her best friend was now thrashing and killing and destroying…

The landscape around her blurred and the screaming faded, the metallic clash of metal becoming a light clink in the distance. Perhaps this is what dying was really like - like the fading away of a previous world, or like falling asleep. The unseen force was so close now, so evil and so familiar that she pressed herself down further than before.

"The lens, Impa!"

Her eyes snapped open. His cool hand seemed to brush against her ear, and she remembered.

Retrieving the lens from her satchel with shaking hands, she lifted to her eyes up and peered through it. She could catch glimpses of its dismembered hands, the glowing eye, and all around her there was drumming. It was an enormous monster, though smaller than the Shadow, and the aura around it made Impa shudder, because it reminded her too much of him. It was him - wasn't it?

It advanced on her, but she moved with trained reflexes and unloosened a dagger on her belt with great speed. When she threw it, her aim struck true, squarely in the glowing eye. The creature reared back and screeched.

Impa continued to hold onto her quarry, her eyes wide as she stared through the lens. Then she understood the Truth. That most ancient tale and Truth about Darkness and Light, he had told it to her for this very moment, hadn't he? This was the true nature of her second mission, wasn't it?

With her other hand, she stroked his hair, the blood making it thick and sticky. She dared to smile, and her voice came out in a sickly rasp.

"It will be all right."

Then she reached out into the Darkness with her free hand, feeling it, gathering it, and as it spoke an ancient, deep magic to her, she in turn spoke the word to command it, and it obeyed.
- o -

Impa knew immediately when the seal broke, because she felt a deep ache in her chest that she only remembered feeling when she thought about him.

When she arrived at the graveyard, the anticipation swept through her. There was no use in going to the well, because it was already obvious that the spirit had fled to the temple. She had no need to retrieve the lens either. She had completely mastered the Sight over all these years.

When she stood in front of the Temple entrance, she thought it was finally at long last that the seal had broken. These seven years, filled with the evil and dark magic of the King of the Desert, provided the ideal conditions for it. As she listened to the voices of the dead, she strained to hear the very faint drumming underground. The dead were urging her, beckoning her inside with greater desperation. She imagined herself at sixteen years, when she had entered this place for the first time, the fear and excitement overwhelming all her senses. It was strange, because since then she had made many vigils at the Temple with almost fond familiarity. Now, that fear had returned somewhat, though the marks gleamed on her cheek as she crossed the threshold.

May the Truth protect you always.

Then, with speed only a Sheikah could boast, she slipped into the Shadow Temple, letting the voices guide her to where he was waiting.
- o -

A light pierced through the Shadow, falling from the heavens, a pillar of white-hot fire spiraling down through the clouds. The entire valley filled with a blinding light, as if the gods themselves had finally been made aware of the chaos and the darkness on the earth below and roused themselves to intervene.

The beam seared through the Shadow, rendering its flesh. It shuddered and wailed a pitiful, screeching cry that could be heard for miles around as it wriggled and twisted like an insect pinned down by a collector's pin.

There was another figure, just beyond the pillar of light. A girl was sitting alone, surrounded by a field of broken bodies, clutching a glowing black crystal of shadow in one hand. Inside the crystal, she thought she could feel the beat of a drum, because inside of it was sealed an evil spirit- a spirit she knew well. She had sealed it away herself, though she still cradled its former body in her lap, her cheek and hair smeared crimson.

He lay still, his chest open and bloody, but his face took on the cast of a sleeping person. She continued to stroke his hair, looking down at the two condemning red lines tattooed on both of his cheeks. He was beautiful, she thought, as much as she had imagined him to be.

Behind her, the Hylian banners and trumpets were raised as the army of the true King finally came forward, picking its way through the wreckage and blood, the evidence of the massacre that had just happened. The door to the Sacred Realm lay undisturbed behind them, safe. All looked on at the scene before them, at the Light.

In front of her, another army was fleeing upon seeing the apprehension of their ultimate weapon. But the gods were not finished yet, because the final judgment was yet to come. The sky was so bright now. Three figures of light assembled close to where the Shadow lay squirming. She thought she saw movement within each of them, but before she could discern the shapes, they merged together in a single light so bright it blinded her.

Then there was a single figure, holding a large, white mirror. Projecting it into the sky, hot white circular patterns lifted out and projected a dark, revolving gateway in the direction that the enemy was fleeing. The sound of the voice that filled the valley was melodic, liquid, with the consistency of Light. It sang of judgment, of justice, of exile, though she did not understand the words-not exactly.

The Shadow slowly lifted off of the ground, still flailing, and flew into the gateway first, as if a large hand had tossed it into a refuse pile. As Impa looked on, she realized that the fleeing army too, was being sucked into the portal. Even from the distance she could see the fear in their faces, the red tattoos gleaming below their eyes as their bodies drifted backwards, disintegrating into shards of shadow falling into the abyss.

She and all of the Hylian Army watched with mixed horror and amazement as the enemy disappeared to the world beyond the mirror's portal with frightening finality. When the circles dropped and the mirror's light went out, the silence was drowned out by a raucous cheer that filled the valley as much as the Light had.

The God holding the mirror turned, blazing. He stared at Impa, and she squeezed the crystal in her hand, holding it close to herself.

When the tears began to fall, they caught the light, and she remembered the very first day she had spoken to Sheik, when it was his tears that had shimmered in the morning sun. Then she understood at once why even then she had thought it had seemed so lovely.

Then, when she was unable to bear the weight of all of that Truth, she began to cry aloud, crying much more than she had ever seen him cry, allowing the drops to spin like liquid light in the air.
- o -

When she arrived in Kakariko later that night, the village was deathly silent. Even the ghosts of the graveyard ceased their nightly haunting.

She stood in front of his house, gazing upon its frames as she held the torch in one hand and the shadow crystal in the other. Her cheeks were still flushed with fever, but that discomfort was beyond her. She gazed on the familiar house she had spent many happy childhood moments, the place he had felt most at home.

When the remains of the house went up in flames, she was overcome with peace.

Looking around the still village, her home, she almost casually began laying down her plans. So this is what it feels, she thought almost too carelessly, to be one the last of a kind. She was the survivor of a murdered race, an exiled race. Her father and mother were dead, as were her brother and her sister…

So it was no longer a village for the Sheikah… but it was still a good home. The valley below Death Mountain provided coverage, and there was the natural aquifer underground that could provide water. As she looked back at the burning house, she thought that this spot would rather be a good place for a well. Then she looked down at the crystal still clutched in her hand. It was silent - it had stopped drumming since the exile. But it was only dormant, for now.

From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of one of the tapestries hanging off of the building. The crimson Sheikah eye stared back at her longingly, unblinking, unmoving.

With a soft laugh to herself, she squat down and began to copy it into the ground with her finger. Even on the ground, it seemed to gaze into her, soul and all, but Impa stared back at it impassively.

She drew a single line down from the center of the bottom eyelid. It gave her the impression of sadness, betrayal, loss and yet, resilience. Yes, that was what was all that was left of the Sheikah.

Through the blurriness of her tears, she thought she saw shadows on the ground, swaying all around her. Getting to her feet, she turned away from the burning house to face the dim figures standing there. They seemed to look approvingly at her rendition of their symbol, nodding at her just as they had done in life, and she recognized every one of them. She even made out the faces of Emeth and Aiza in the crowd, slowly making their way to the graveyard as they gave her proud and knowing glances. Her brother waved at her with two fingers, and Aiza had her arm around him, laughing silently but merrily.

Impa was confused a moment, because she knew that the lens were still in her satchel on her waist. As she blinked and her vision cleared a little more, the procession of souls toward the Temple faded from her sight.

She went to reach for the lens, but… No. She knew instinctively he wouldn't be among them. He was… She shook her head and lowered her hand, resting it instead over the glowing shadow crystal.

Then wiping her eyes, Impa smiled.

"Good night."
- o -

Previous Chapter || 

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This was superb, almost overwhelming in its excellence. It's been a long time since I read a story that moved me so profoundly - but I plan on going back over this later, reading every word again slowly, digesting it. I want to savor this all over again like a piquant wine.

I seriously cannot think of a single thing I could suggest to improve this. Bravo on producing such a wonderful story!

eeee!! thank you, you totally made my day!! it's this kind of encouraging word that's the best thing a writer could possibly hear :)

No, thank you. It made my morning to come home and find this on my flist! :) I hope you don't mind, but it kind of offended my senses that you have so few reviews, so I recced this on a few places on tumblr hoping it'll get your more feedback.

I did have one question about the story - I was kind of curious who you had in mind as to the identity of the God holding the mirror? Is it an alternate deity than the goddesses we saw in canon or one of the multitude of spirits and lower gods we've been introduced tp already?

Also, I forgot to comment on the picture you added to the story, which I just realized is your own art - evocative and lovely. Very befitting.

uwah!! That's so kind of you!! That's way more than I could ever hope for, thank you so much ;__;

As for the God with the Mirror of Twilight, He's not a canon character of the Zelda universe, it was partially out of whim, but actually it turns out I made a mistake. I had wanted to play with a trinitarian concept with this (partially being influenced by my Christian faith, but also because I purposefully borrowed a lot of theological ideas for this story [the "beginning" of Light and Darkness, the concept of Truth, etc]). It seemed too transcendental of a chance to pass up :P

Where I made the mistake was this... the three lights at the end were supposed to be ambiguously either the three goddesses or the Light Spirits in Twilight Princess. The problem is that I had forgotten while writing this that there were actually four, not three Light Spirits. I think I made the mistake because I had recalled that the Light Spirits had been named after the goddesses... and also since I haven't done a TP run thru for a while now, Ordona completely slipped my mind.

But that's all there is to it. I think I really liked the idea of comparing the "wholly other" Shadow to a "wholly other" figure of Light, which in this case, is a God with a capital G. But I guess without that explanation (or maybe even with!) it does seem a little random or arbitrary. Ah, and sorry it was such a long answer @_@; I think I just think way too much about everything :P

And thank you for the comments on the picture! I do feel a little vain, but every so often I like to sketch out my characters to channel some of the emotions I'm attempting to feel for them. It's not often I show them to people, so I'm very grateful for the feedback :)

Edited at 2012-08-04 06:53 am (UTC)

Ah, I thought you might have been referencing the triune God, but I wanted to check if I'd overlooked a detail. (Sort of infamous for it.)

Actually, you didn't make a mistake - the canon backstory only shows three light spirits in the cutscene helping to seal away the invaders. There's enough ambiguity, anyhow since both options occurred to me when I first read through. And don't be sorry! I really like your explanation of the dichotomous dark and light elements.

You're welcome on the feedback, but I wouldn't call illustrating your story vain. There shouldn't be limits to creativity - ego, yes - but not talent. :)

yay!! So I guess it still makes sense for the Light Spirits too :) I really ought to finish the replay for TP that I started last year though @_@ or finish Skyward Sword @_@ I'm so behind with the times -_-

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