Chapter XVI: Shadows of the Soul

Daylight was melting into dusk by the time Veil and Link returned from the river, looking rather sullen and perhaps even guilty; it could have easily been interpreted as a distant shyness, a bashful avoidance brought on from having seen each other’s body and heart at its barest and most honest form, to have shared such an intimate moment together that most people can only imagine. It was almost pitiable that the incident would never be spoken of ever again, not to friends, foes, or anyone in between. It was now their little secret, and would go with them both until the end, history unwritten.

Sheik, looking in much better shape after having the many cuts and scratches on his face rinsed off and tended to, was sitting upon a boulder in the clearing where the druid’s house stood, sharpening the machetes and feeling rather sore about losing his hand-blades to the tree-monster. For the time being he would have to make due with these crude knives as weapons. He would have gladly taken the fairy bow as a temporary replacement if he knew he could use it (and he couldn’t, being that bow-shooting was not his specialty). He preferred close combat anyway. It meant he didn’t have to waste time aiming.

He looked up when he saw the twins approaching, and laid the blades aside. “Glad to see both of you still alive,” he said. “What took you so long?”

“Heavy cotton takes longer to dry than gauze and silk,” Link answered flatly, and Veil even pointed to his own knee-length tunic that was still damp around the edges. “Where’s the druid?”

“She hid herself away in her tree about an hour ago,” the Sheikah said. “Said she had matters to attend to regarding Veil.”

“Me?”

“Don’t worry. It sounded like she wanted time alone to study books or stand over a bubbling cauldron.”

“You shouldn’t tease about her,” Veil warned.

“I wasn’t joking. Smoke has been rising from her tree . . . chimney . . . house ever since. She said she would summon us when she was ready.”

“Nervous?” Link asked, taking a seat on the rock next to Sheik.

“Certainly not.”

“I am,” Veil said softly.

“You have good reason to be,” Sheik offered.

“Well,” the shadow sighed, “if worse turns to worst, at least I know she can’t kill me.”

Sheik and Link exchanged worried glances and were quiet for a few moments. Obviously they had not entirely ruled out the possibility that Falavus might very well murder them for whatever reasons eerie druids like she had.

Sheik rose to his feet and said airily, “Well, I would hate to die on an empty stomach. Are you hungry, Link?”

The Hylian looked particularly queasy at the mention of food. “After today, I don’t know if I’ll ever be hungry again. Being pulled down the slimy throat of a giant monster can be something of an appetite killer.”

“You’ve got to keep your strength up somehow, Junior. I’m going to go see what we’ve got.”

“As long as it’s not fish again!” Link called out as Sheik left to peruse the saddlebags in search of dinner.

Alone together once more, Veil crouched down on the ground before Link and idly played with the small flowering weeds growing around the base of the boulder. Fireflies began to appear and the frogs from the river nearby began to croak their evening songs. Link gazed off into the trees and said nothing.

“Why does Sheik call you Junior?” the shadow finally asked in a rush, as if he had been turning it over in his mind ever since he had heard it.

One corner of Link’s mouth twisted upward into a small grin of recollection. “Because I am younger than he is.”

“And how old are you?”

The same question that had haunted Link his entire life finally resurfaced and sent a cold wind through his body. “I . . . Sheik tells me I’m seventeen. He said he could look at a person and tell how old they were.”

“But. Don’t you know how old you are?” Veil wished he hadn’t said that the moment the words left his mouth, for he could feel his twin’s depression weighing him down once more. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“I would like to,” Link murmured, “if only I knew.” He was quiet for a while, and Veil gazed at him expectantly while Link kept his eyes fixed upon the trees. Then the confession came bluntly: “I never knew my parents. I don’t know when I was born, and I have no age to go by. I’ve never belonged to anyone. I’ve never had a family.”

“I . . .” Veil started gently. “You can belong to me if you’d like.”

Link shook his head. “No, you don’t understand. Belonging is . . . Being a part of a family means that, that you share a physical tie with someone else, like with your parents. People are born through parents, and you share their blood.”

“And appearance?”

“Yes. A little, maybe. But family is about love and respect and staying together even though you fight with one another, about supporting one another and . . . and-”

He felt a hand upon his own, and looked down to see Veil staring up at him, his gray eyes tumultuous and filled with longing. Link was not so blind as to understand what he was thinking simply by gazing down into that desperately hopeful expression.

“Veil,” he started regretfully, but was interrupted as Sheik reappeared with a few bundles in his hands. Link hastily pulled his hand away and pretended to be occupied with a loose thread on the hem of his sleeve. Sheik, however, didn’t seem to notice what had been taking place; he sat down beside the Hylian with a sigh.

“Well, it’s no feast fit for royalty, but at least it’s not fish.” He passed a ration of salted pork and bread to Link.

“This is fine,” he said thankfully. “It’s certainly better than nothing.”

Sheik smiled. “That’s looking on the bright side of things.”

An apologetic look crossed Link’s face and he turned his eyes to the food pouch in his hands. “I’m sorry for the way I acted earlier back at the river,” he murmured. “You were right, I was behaving out of line.”

“No need to apologize to me,” Sheik said. “But I’m sure Veil wouldn’t mind hearing one from you about now.”

“Ah—there’s no need,” Veil insisted. “Really. I don’t mind. But thanks for the thought.”

“Well, if it doesn’t bother you. Still, I think it would be appropriate if he at least thanked you for saving his life today.”

A perceptive atmosphere of discomfort settled between the Hylian and his shadow, so intense that it made the ensuing silence almost unbearable.

Sheik rolled his eyes. “For heaven’s sake, I didn’t ask that you marry him, Link.”

“You didn’t ask me anything. You told me.”

“I suggested.”

“Ordered.”

“Insinuated.”

“What?”

“Please,” Veil interrupted meekly, “I’ve already caused enough trouble for the both of you. If I asked anything more of Link it’d be too much.”

“Anything less wouldn’t suffice,” Sheik muttered, glaring at Link. “I don’t know why you two have such a difficult time speaking to one another.”

“We don’t,” said Link. “It’s the thoughts behind the words that we have difficulty with.”

“I give up,” the Sheikah sighed, cradling his head in his hands. “You can lead a horse to water but you can’t make it drink. Honestly, Link. I’m tired of driving splinters under your fingernails just to influence you to act the slightest bit human-”

“What would you have me do?” Link demanded. “Get on my knees and beg for forgiveness?”

Sheik sent a private wink to the shadow, who was watching the argument worriedly. “I’ll get his legs if you get his arms.”

Link sputtered, “Hey wait, what’s this? What did you say—augh!”

The Hylian had never realized how fast Sheik could move until that moment, for no sooner had he seen the blur of blue than he was on the ground with his legs pinned underneath the crimson-eyed blond; he didn’t even realize his arms were being held above his head until he craned his neck and saw Veil’s upside down face smiling helplessly down at him. “Surprise?” he tittered.

“Now then,” Sheik said superiorly, making himself comfortable on Link’s thighs. “What does one do with a fallen Hero?”

“Get off of him, that’s what,” Link snapped.

“Wrong answer.” Sheik held up his hands, fingers poised.

Link went absolutely white. “Don’t,” he uttered, squirming futilely.

The fingers drew closer.

“Don’t! I mean it! I’ll bring every monster in this forest down on us if you so much as-” His sentence ended in an ear-splitting scream of laughter as Sheik launched his frenzied hands upon Link’s vulnerable midsection.

“I never knew you were so ticklish, Junior!” he shouted over the deafening screeches, which were peppered with some rather salty threats and curses.

Veil didn’t know what to think. His master was laughing raucously, yet struggling to free himself. What was ‘ticklish’? Why did it make him laugh so hard? In any case, it was sending all wildlife within three hundred paces bolting away in fear of their lives. Tears were running down the sides of Link’s face as he gasped for air, cheeks flushed red and his eyes sparkling merrily. Gazing down at him, Veil wished he knew how to make Link as joyous as Sheik had made him.

“Oh gods! Stop! Haaaa! I can’t—aha HA! Breathe! Ah! It hurts! Stop—haha haaa! Sheik-! Veil, ahaa! Make him stop! I’m beg—haa HAA ha haa HA!”

Sheik paused, lifting his hands from the Hylian’s torso. “Now, tell Veil what you need to tell him or else I’ll tickle you again.”

“You’re loving this, aren’t you?” Link panted angrily.

“Every second. Now say it.”

“Say what? Auughh! Haha! Stop! All right! I’ll tell him! Cut it out!”

Sheik grinned smugly as Link heaved a sigh and lay still for a moment, catching his breath. When he turned his blue eyes upward, they met with cool gray ones, and he became aware of the warm hands grasped tightly—but not painfully—around his wrists. He could feel his own pulse throbbing in his hands, and he felt Veil’s as well. To his surprise, the shadow’s heart was racing as fast as his own. Was he nervous?

Yes.

Why?

Something in the way you’re looking at me right now . . . makes me long to be close to you again.

I don’t understand . . .

Just then, the three young men were startled at the sound of a wooden door bursting open and the fearsome voice of Falavus Talrhos demanding loudly: “What is this insane racket out here?”

They turned to see the druid standing in the doorway of her home, staring sternly out at them all. “I daren’t ask what brought on this sudden mutiny, but I hope you’ll postpone the slaughter of that young man so that I may at least question him, yes?”

Sheik crawled off of Link and helped him to his feet while Veil hung his head like a child being chastised. “We’re sorry, my lady,” they said at different times in mumbled voices, feeling quite immature at being caught while acting so silly.

The druid shook her head. “Children,” she sighed, then beckoned for them to enter her tree. “You may enter now, and take care to not knock each other over in the mad rush to the door, won’t you?”

The interior of the druid’s home looked almost exactly like how they all imagined it to look: a small fire crackled in the hearth beneath several cauldrons of many sizes, and the sanded walls were lined with rows of shelves piled high with thick books, scrolls, jars, vials and strange looking stones. From the high ceiling hung dangling crystals, chimes, bird feathers, dried plants and circular weavings, and upon the walls were maps of constellations, moon phases and sun charts.

A large window was carved into the east side of the tree; on the west was a long table whose surface was covered with flowering plants and several pestles. A curious basket filled with mushrooms sat in the midst of it all. Several beeswax candles of every shape, size and color lit the room, enhancing its mystic atmosphere.

As Falavus closed the door behind them, they saw a strange symbol painted on it in red, a pentagram with strange characters at each point.

“To keep ill spirits away,” she said when it became apparent that they were staring. “If any of you were evil it would have singed your flesh.”

They looked uneasy.

She smiled. “I know now that I am entertaining fair company. Sit down, won’t you?”

The three young men sat down at the round table in the center of the room: Falavus sat across from them and produced an ancient-looking book whose pages seemed ready to crumble into dust at the slightest touch. Carefully she opened it to a place that had been marked by one of the many fraying cords of thread, and then gazed up at her guests.

“You come to me because you seek answers. You come because you believe the Hero, Link, is suffering tremendously at the hands of his Shadow, a being who was born without a soul, and who is now threatening the balance of Time and the future of this earth. In all my centuries of study and knowledge, there is no solution I can offer to this problem that could even be considered, although I believe that I have at least discovered what is happening that is so endangering Link’s person.”

Falavus drew in a slow breath and began: “It was thought by the ancient druids that every soul has a shadow. From a scientific standpoint, a soul is pure energy, the same energy that comprises the Goddesses themselves, only on a much smaller scale; in each human being there is a small part of divinity, for that is from whence you have come.

“Now, try to imagine that the soul is like a fire, receiving and burning great amounts of divine energy. The fire receives its fuel from piety, love, and the cultivation of virtues such as faith, kindness, courtesy, and compassion. Through this ‘fuel’ the soul-fire burns strong and bright. In shorter words, the purer your heart, the stronger your soul becomes.”

“What happens if a person does not do these things?” Link asked.

“First you must understand, child: no single soul is perfect or capable of achieving its purest form of energy—that is something that happens when the soul returns to the heavens again. But as with every fire, there must be ash. This is where the theory of ‘soul shadows’ come into place. The shadows of souls are the byproducts of used-up spiritual energy, much like soot and ash from a fire. In order to keep the soul-ash from building up, one must seek spiritual cleansing through prayer, virtue, and good deeds. If one does not do these things, the ash will build up, and slowly begin to contaminate the soul.”

“Like poison,” Sheik murmured.

Falavus nodded. “Yes. The excess ash continues to accumulate, tainting the clean energy that it is trying to burn. The result is the soul-fire burning poorly. It is a terrible cycle, and if it persists for long enough, the inherent good in a person’s soul will slowly start to go bad, replacing virtue with sin. The process may take years, during which the person will become lazy and shiftless, his soul deteriorating into a dim fire dominated by greed, contempt, conceit, lust . . . it goes on. The queue of sins is endless.”

“My lady,” Sheik spoke up, “Link has already experienced such a poisoning, though the timeframe was in hours, not years.”

The druid looked surprised. “Then by all means he should have been dead by now. A buildup of ash that sudden would have directly affected his physical body to the point where it could not hold the soul any longer. What do you believe kept death at bay?”

“Veil,” Sheik answered without hesitation. “He came in when Link was in the midst of dying and held him until all traces of his suffering were gone.”

“I see.”

“Ever since then, I’ve noticed that when Link is starting to behave particularly foul, it could always be remedied by Veil’s touch.”

The druid nodded solemnly. “Then it is true. I never could have expected it.”

“What is true, my lady?” Link asked.

“Tell me, Link, does Veil have a particular attraction to a certain region of your body? The small of your back, perhaps?”

The Hylian looked as if he had seen a ghost. “Y-yes,” he uttered. “How did you . . . ?”

Falavus rose from her seat and went to one of the shelves, haphazardly digging through bundles of scrolls and tossing aside the ones she was not looking for. The three young men watched her in fascination as she finally unearthed the correct one and brought it back to the table. Unrolling the rectangular parchment and pinning the corners down with stones, she swept her white hair behind her shoulders and pointed to the large drawing in the center. It was of a human body, standing with arms and legs extended, and odd symbols drawn on various places of the anatomy.

“There are three points on the body through which spiritual energy can be transmitted directly,” she explained rather breathlessly as Sheik, Veil and Link leaned in for a better look. “The first is upon the temple, or the head. The second is the left hand.”

“Why the left?” Veil inquired.

“Because it is the hand closest to the heart. The third and most powerful point is here.” She tapped her finger to the lower back where a symbol graced the largest part of the spine. “This is where many people believe the soul to dwell, for along the backbone run tiny strings of fibers that are responsible for the transportation of energy to the rest of the body. The spine is the trunk from which all spiritual power branches out.”

“So why is Veil drawn to these parts of Link’s body?”

“Because Veil is the living personification of Link’s soul shadow.”

A stunned silence followed her words, and the Hylian said hesitantly, “So Veil is my . . . ash?”

“In a sense,” replied Falavus. “When Veil explained his past to me, it didn’t make sense at first. However, I was not considering the possibility of this ancient theory being correct. Now I see that it is, and there is much you must do if you plan to live long enough to complete your objectives, Link.”

Link leaned his elbows on the table and swept his hair back from his forehead in a gesture of puzzlement. “Forgive me, Lady Falavus. I still don’t understand how all this came to be.”

The druid leaned forward. “Here is what I believe: when you were on your quest to save Hyrule from the Dark One, the forces of evil were permeating the land from the inside out. Your soul was pure and good, and these negative forces—so unbelievably powerful that they were almost a physical entity—were trying to penetrate your flesh to poison it. However, because the fires of your soul were so strong and bright, the evil that had managed to seep into your body was processed, and the ash began to pile up. Though you were unaware of this spiritual battle, the amount of evil your soul was fighting was massive, and it needed to be purged completely lest you fall victim to Ganondorf’s poisons.

“I have never heard of a human soul being able to physically expel used-up energy, but the Goddesses must have been on your side as far as miracles go; your ash was discarded into the form of your shadow, and for a little while it was your own personal storage place for your used spiritual fuel, and your soul could burn the evil trying to infect you much more efficiently. It is really an amazing progression in spiritual evolution.

“And then, for reasons that escape me yet, your soul-shadow became detached from you. Perhaps it had grown too heavy to follow you any longer; perhaps the evil powers haunting your path had managed to steal it from you; perhaps the Goddesses knew you had gotten through the worst of it, and decided to return your soul to its normal processes. In any case, your ash was somehow left behind in the shape of your shadow. Though you still possessed a shadow (like all things of physical existence) it was not the special soul-shadow that you once had kept.”

“That’s when Ganondorf found me,” Veil murmured numbly. “He took me in when I was wandering lost and searching for my master . . . Is it unheard of for soul-ash to develop thoughts of its own?”

“I would have no idea,” said the druid. “I have never had the opportunity to observe such a thing before. For whatever reasons, it was obvious that you had some semblance of instinct and perception in those days. Perhaps like an infant child, your mind was beginning to slowly develop . . .”

“But when Ganondorf cast me into flesh, I suddenly had a brain.”

“Yet your mind was not developed enough to think on its own,” Sheik mused.

“And it took an encounter with your shadow-maker to wake up the mind inside the body,” Falavus said, then turned to Link. “Tell me of the weapon you used to ‘slay’ your shadow.”

“Well,” Link began, his mouth dry. “Ganondorf copied my exact image—sword, shield, clothes, body, everything. I used Veil’s sword. I stabbed him through the heart.”

“Hm. I wonder why he did not die. A sword forged from evil should have killed his body, forged also from evil.”

“Unless my body was reacting to Link’s soul energy,” Veil murmured. “Unless I had resumed my place as his soul-shadow.”

The druid appeared stunned. “That is a very possible reality. Soul-ash cannot be killed since it is non-living, but the human body is mortal. What could have caused the flesh to live on?”

“Maybe it was instinctively trying to save itself?” Sheik suggested.

Link offered: “Maybe my soul shadow was so powerful its immortality had spread into Veil’s body?”

“Maybe I wanted to live more than anything,” the shadow said softly.

Falavus shook her head. “I don’t have answers to everything . . . at least not yet, anyway.”

“So,” Sheik tried to digest this mass of information piece by piece, “Veil is Link’s soul shadow, in actual human form. Link’s soul no longer keeps his used up energy, but instead transfers it to Veil through touch?”

Falavus nodded. “I am quite certain, for Link has no way to discard or process his ash anymore, no matter how many good virtues he possesses. His soul has completely lost the ability to keep the used energy from building up. Link, tell me, when Veil touches you, do you feel any . . . sensations?”

The Hylian fought his hardest to not blush after hearing the question put so ambiguously, but while he was struggling to keep himself restrained, it was Sheik who answered the question for him: “He has told me it feels like his soul is being sucked out of him.”

“Well, he wasn’t far off—it was the used up energy being drawn from you. It is Veil’s means of sustenance. Without his constant presence, your soul would become so infected with its own ash that it would die, and dead souls know no eternal peace.”

“I, but I don’t need him!” Link cried. “He survived for seven years without me! I lived for seven years without him!”

“But the instant that time caught back up with the moment of his creation, your soul’s ash started piling up,” Sheik interrupted. “That’s why on the whole journey through the Water Temple you were beginning to slowly die; your soul recognized that its ‘storage shed’ was out there somewhere and instinctively stopped cycling its used energy. Sounds like the one side effect the Powers That Be didn’t plan on resurfacing, a divine error that transgresses both time and reality.”

“I suppose it’s a good thing that I cannot die, yes?” Veil said with a hopeful smile.

“I wouldn’t be too sure of that,” said Falavus, indicating the scar across his cheek. “Something out there has the power to leave its mark on an immortal being. It could easily be assumed that that same thing could also have the power to kill you. Tell me, who gave you this mark?”

“Why, it was . . . Link.”

The druid regarded the Hylian. “And what weapon did the Hero use?”

“The Master Sword,” Link answered. “There is great power in its blade, and with it, all the memories of . . . my past.”

“Of the shadow,” said Sheik.

“Of Veil,” finished Falavus.

There was a long pause.

“If,” Link faltered uneasily, “if Veil were to die, what would happen to me?”

“I don’t know,” Falavus confessed with a sigh. “I’ve only just begun to look into the idea of soul shadows, and there is still much to be learned from them. I need time to gather my thoughts and study it more deeply.”

“Unfortunately, time is something we haven’t got much of, my lady,” Sheik murmured. “Link and I were sent to destroy Veil since he is the last remnant of Ganondorf’s legacy, but we didn’t count on him being immortal, or something close to it. We also did not count on him being so human. We must take him to the Temple of Time, before the Sages of Hyrule. Now that we know how to keep Link from growing ill, we must leave as soon as we can, for perhaps the Sages know of a way to remedy this problem without resorting to death.”

Veil stood to his feet in alarm. “You plan to take me where?” he cried, looking hurt and betrayed.

“Sit down, Veil. It’s not as terrible as it sounds,” Sheik said. “Sage Rauru and Princess Zelda are good people. They will not make any rash decisions, I’m almost sure.”

“But you’re still not completely sure,” the druid said lowly, and they detected a bit of darkness in her tone. “You may call them Sages, but they are neither wise nor just. They are merely keepers of the mystic realms, guardians of the temples that have grown cold from disuse. They justify any action, great or terrible, if they think it benefits their idealistic visions of themselves, as these omniscient lords who believe that they hold absolute power over the realms that they protect.”

“But…but many of these Sages are my friends,” Link said.

“Perhaps so, but I know Rauru personally. He came to me as a young man about your age, seeking knowledge of ancient politics and government. He is powerful, manipulative and intelligent, and he does not like being catechized by anyone. He is more of a political figure than a man of divine grace. If you could but stay longer instead of rushing off to place Veil’s life in the hands of a man who could care less, I might be able to find the answers you seek and save you both time and grief.”

Link’s face was drawn and tired-looking. “How certain are you that you’ll find the answers?”

Falavus smiled thinly. “I have yet to be asked a question to which I could not find the answer.”

Late into the night Link and Sheik talked with Falavus, sharing in great detail the adventures of the Hero’s first quest and news from the throne of Hyrule. Veil, however, remained very quiet and withdrawn, watching distantly and turning over his thoughts and trying his hardest to understand what the druid had told them earlier. Though it filled him with happiness to know that he was in truth a part of Link, to have heard it all explained so scientifically, so methodically, it made the enigma and power of his existence seem so meaningless. It took only minutes to sum up his entire reason for being.

Though deep down inside he knew he was the bastard child of great evil, Veil continued to grasp onto the small shred of hope that there was more to his life than merely acting as a biological component for processing energy.

Finally the mortals could talk no more for their exhaustion, and they bid Falavus a good night before retiring to the clearing to lay out their beds. The druid apologized for her lack of sleeping quarters, for she, being an immortal like Veil, never felt the instinct to rest. Thus, she vowed to spend the night researching and studying more on the ancient theory of soul shadows. The two young men had accepted her apology lightly—they were so tired that they were not even concerned with the fact that they had completely forgotten about dinner.

The night air was warm and the gentle breeze rustling through the trees was cool and dry; they would have no need for a fire tonight. Even the moon shining above through the large opening in the trees illuminated their surroundings to the point where even the light of the lamps would be unnecessary.

Link watched with mounting anxiety as Sheik nonchalantly tucked a machete under his thin bedroll and lay comfortably down, as if it were a perfectly natural habit to keep a deadly weapon within hand’s reach. Link could not help but to ask him in a hushed whisper: “You don’t think there are more monsters out there, do you?”

The lid of one crimson eye lifted slightly. “I’m not taking any chances if there are.”

“I think I should go get my sword.”

“Just go to sleep, Link,” the Sheikah sighed. “Veil’s keeping watch. He would crawl over broken glass with you on his back to save your feet, so you’ve nothing to fear. Pleasant dreams.”

Link sank down onto his mat with a worried look, drawing his blanket up to his chest and folding his hands behind his head. The sight of the stars above helped to ease his troubled mind, but his view was suddenly obstructed by the appearance of Veil’s face.

“What is ‘dreams’?” he whispered almost inaudibly.

“A dream is images that come to mind when you sleep,” he answered dully. “You wouldn’t know.”

“Oh,” Veil murmured in an injured tone, then paused. He slowly leaned down toward Link’s face, so close that their noses were only inches away. May I touch you?

Link’s cheeks grew flushed, even in the cold, pale light of the moon. Touch me where?

Your hand. I wish to hold it.

Maybe he was imagining this conversation of minds. Maybe he was reading the many deep emotions roiling within Veil’s stormy gray eyes. Whichever it was, Link, as if entranced, slowly and deliberately drew his left hand out from underneath his head, and held it before his shadow; Veil gently reached out with his unscarred hand and wove his fingers within Link’s, pressing their palms together tightly.

Link took a sharp intake of breath as he felt the first cool wave seep down into his arm, and then the relaxing feeling like a river’s flow follow thereafter. Above him, Veil closed his eyes and sighed as if in relief before pulling back and lying down on his side next to Link, their hands still held tightly together.

“Are you going to hold my hand all night or-” Link whispered, turning his face toward Veil’s and losing the end of his sentence. His dark haired twin was gazing at him sadly, lovingly, longingly.

“I would hold your hand forever . . . if I only could,” he breathed, blinking slowly. A tear balancing precariously on his lashes lost its purchase and gently rolled down across the bridge of his nose, following the path of his scar until it disappeared into the shadow of his ebony hair.

A lump grew within Link’s throat and he looked away, closing his eyes as they started to sting. He said nothing, but gave Veil’s hand a gentle squeeze.

A gesture of acceptance? Perhaps.

A gesture of understanding? Undoubtedly.

Sheik had never slept so well in his life, not even in the most comfortable beds of his village, not even on the grand mattresses of the royal guardians’ chambers at Hyrule Castle. Here in the heart of this forest was absolute peace, a small sliver of utopia. Something deep inside of him felt secure and safe, like fear and uncertainty were cast off the moment he stepped foot into this single section of woodland paradise, and nothing could ever go wrong.

And that is why he was so absolutely riddled with blistering shock that early morning when he blinked open his sleepy eyes in time to see a tree-monster walk silently by, mere feet from where he was lying.

Words escaped his mind that could even begin to translate the heart-stopping rush of adrenaline into profanities—there were simply not enough adjectives.

Sheik bolted upright from his bedroll and threw himself backwards into Veil and Link, shaking them awake and pointing to the hideous creature lumbering by. Though it was much smaller by far than the one they had just yesterday gutted, the fear of anything remotely resembling the beast still remained, and it sent all three of them scrambling to their feet and standing together in an agitated, half-asleep cluster.

“Wha-what in the hell!” Link whispered fiercely, literally trembling with horror and unknowingly holding onto Veil as if his very soul depended on it (which wasn’t that far off from the truth, actually).

They watched as the monster, its jaws hanging open slightly, ambled its way toward the druid’s tree, swishing its long vine-like tail back and forth soundlessly. It was obviously a juvenile, for its side-tentacles were but small nubs running along its length, and the thorns upon its back were nowhere close to the size of its predecessor.

“It’s going for Falavus!” Sheik hissed.

“What should we do?” Veil asked desperately.

Link, unable to look at the creature without reliving his experience being sloshed about in hot slimy bowels, clung to his shadow’s shoulder and dug his fingers into his back.

“Ah. Ah!” Veil grimaced. “Link, that hurts! Not so hard!”

“Keep it away,” the Hylian uttered. “Just keep it away from me.”

The tree-monster stopped a few paces before Falavus’ home, and with a curious undulation of its upper body, produced a strange sound like that of a heavy stone being rolled about in a cast iron pot.

“What in the name of the gods . . .” Sheik muttered, unable to tear his eyes from the beast.

“It’s calling,” Veil whispered.

“It’s what?”

Their questions were answered as they saw the door to the tree open, and Falavus stepped out of her home with a calm and collected grace. The creature ceased its strange call, and a deep rumbling filled the clearing, a guttural growl that came deep from within the its body. The druid smiled and stepped up to the creature, stroking its rough, barky hide and speaking to it softly in a language that none of the three young men recognized.

“I forgot she keeps these things as pets,” Sheik said with a sigh, relaxing a little.

“Guardians,” Veil corrected.

“Whatever. That’s a hell of a monster to tame, I must imagine.”

“Do you think it will try to hurt us?”

“After what you did to that other one, it had better not.”

Falavus looked up when she noticed her guests standing together in a worried huddle. “It’s all right,” she said. “You are in no danger. The Siridu will not attack within the sanctity of this region.”

“You mean that animal is part of a species?” Sheik asked dubiously.

“Yes. The Siridu are an ancient breed that were hunted almost to the point of extinction. This is their last refuge, and there are very few of them left.” She continued to caress the creature’s eyeless head, and for all the world it seemed to be purring like a great cat. “Siridu are important to keeping the balance of the environment intact; they use their claws to till the soil and make it rich, and help spread seeds so that plants may grow in new regions. They use their vines to forage for fruits high up in trees, and by knocking food from the branches, they also provide food for smaller woodland creatures such as deer and rabbits. Some of them are quite intelligent, and they were once a peaceful species.”

“What happened to the peace?” Sheik asked quietly.

Falavus gently frowned. “Human beings instinctively fear what they do not understand, and they kill whatever they fear. The Siridu could not help being so humble looking, and humans mistook these gentle beasts for monsters, slaying them until only a precious few remained. The land became barren in places, and many plants and animals that depended upon Siridu for survival died out—the delicate balance of nature was forever upset. The Siridu fled to this forest, and their mistrust of Man still lives on.” Her voice fell to a sad whisper as she gazed at the young Siridu before her. “Just because something is not beautiful does not mean it is evil.”

Veil was visibly guilt-ridden, his whole demeanor darkening into an oppressive feeling of regret. “I am so sorry, Lady Falavus,” he begged. “If I had but known . . . If, if only that Siridu had not swallowed Link . . . I would have never-”

“It is all right,” the druid said. “I understand that you had no other choice, though it is still a pitiable shame that it happened. I suppose the Siridu did not count upon having to deal with your fierce devotion to your helpless master.”

“I wasn’t helpless,” Link muttered, still clinging onto Veil tightly. “I was temporarily incapacitated.”

“My, such large words you know, Junior,” Sheik snickered.

“I didn’t ask for your comment, Old Man.”

At that moment, the Siridu began making urgent noises in its throat, and Falavus kneeled down to see what was the matter. “Ves diubas? Di beshoedus li ketfla?” she whispered.

The creature opened its mouth and its several serpentine tongues emerged, curled about as if it were holding something in them. Sheik stepped closer in his curiosity, and Veil tried to follow but Link was acting like a deadweight and holding him back. The druid extended her hands as the tentacles unfurled, and gently gathered up a small something that the Siridu had been holding.

“What is it?” Sheik asked, his sixth sense giving him a sensation of apprehension.

Falavus’ features grew soft with sorrow as she gazed into her cupped hands. “The poor creature,” she murmured. “I’ve never seen such injury before.” She gazed up at the Siridu. “Fo vunde zye?”

The beast gave a rumble in reply, and Falavus nodded slowly, speaking a few more of the strange words. At that, the Siridu turned about and lumbered off into the forest slowly. When they were certain it had departed, Sheik, Veil and Link approached the druid, who was still kneeling in the grass.

In her hands was cradled the limp and bloodied body of a fairy, its delicate and once-beautiful wings torn to shreds.