Archive of Our Own ^beta

“How much longer?” Wind moaned. He traipsed along behind everyone else, fingers running across the brickwork and flicking every blazing torch ensconced on the wall. 

Warriors shared an amused glance with Time as Twilight sighed behind them. “You didn’t have to tag along,” the rancher reminded him. “I told ya this wouldn’t be too fun. You’d’ve liked the rest of Castletown, I’m tellin’ ya!” 

They had all appeared with little preamble in Twilight’s world, coincidentally landing directly on top of his Queen Zelda’s grand table in the throne room. During a meeting. With all of her advisors. 

It was not one of Warriors’ gossamer moments. 

Luckily, the generally well–meaning nature of the Hero’s Spirit won the advisors over — with a little help from the Queen herself — and while Twilight had to stay at the meeting, the rest of them were allowed to explore the castle as they saw fit. During the meeting, Twilight had learned of a strange dark power suddenly surging in the east before subsiding and, naturally, offered to check it out. So while everyone else was exploring Castletown to their hearts’ content, Twilight had taken Time, Warriors and Wind to explore the unexpected happenings. 

They’d been sent to an old house — rotting away, its windows smashed and roof caved in — sitting at the edge of a chasm, but hadn't found much evidence of anything else until Wind had noticed the entrance to a secret bunker. 

The bunker was larger than any of them had expected: miles of labyrinthine tunnels that spiderwebbed their way underneath the surface of Hyrule. Moreover, its grimy, flame–illuminated halls roiled with some unseen dark force potent enough for all four of them to feel crawling over their back. It wasn't quite hostile, not quite dangerous, but certainly not on their side, either, which made the decision to check it out all the more reasonable. 

Now, however, each armed with copies of a map from the rubble of the house above, the tunnels were beginning to bore all of them. Besides a few chus clinging to the mildewed walls and ceilings and the rats and keese that had found sanctuary in the dark and damp, there wasn't much to see or do. They just trekked ever onward past the same enigmatically guttering torches in the same claustrophobic tunnels, searching fruitlessly for anything interesting. 

Wind had expected a grand adventure with plenty of new sights and sounds and smells. He'd been expecting brilliant fights with new enemies and the typical mental stimulation of a cleverly trapped dungeon. He hadn't anticipated walking in identical stretches of barren underground corridors for hours, and it was beginning to grate on him. 

Warriors could sympathize with the poor kid, of course, but he didn't fully mind it: he was used to the monotony of marches, and doing so with friends was always a welcome bonus. Time favored it too, much more inclined to steady, slow motion than the erratic athleticism of battle. And Twilight just seemed happy to be of use to his queen: the man never seemed to complain about anything. 

But as Wind grumbled, his frame shivering with pent-up energy, Warriors couldn't help but eye the brickwork around them. Cobwebs clung to every surface not dripping with slime, but the further they travelled, the older the architecture seemed to become. Occasionally, the faint rumbling of horse hooves or wagon wheels would reach them, shaking the entire tunnel around them. Dry dirt fell from the ceiling and gathered in piles on the ground. Wooden, worm–eaten supports began appearing more frequently, holding the ceiling up as in a mineshaft. Warriors privately wondered just how long ago the bunker was made, and what for. He wondered if there was anything even left in it at all, or if they were just chasing after shadows. 

“Captain?” Time asked idly. Warriors hummed, noticing how he uncharacteristically fidgeted with the buckles on his gauntlets. “Malon and my anniversary is coming up soon, and we’ve never actually had to celebrate it apart like this before. So I'm just not sure…” 

“Not sure what to do about it?” It felt a little mean, but he had to laugh. “You know how my romantic exploits have always gone, Sprite. Not exactly my cup of tea in the first place. I don't think I'm the person to ask. You’re her husband, I think you’re a little better at this than I am.” 

Time huffed. “I suppose. I just…I just value your opinion, Captain.” 

The admission made Warriors feel warm inside. He was so much different now, so much more mature, but Time would always be, at heart, that little boy that caused so much trouble in the war. He’d always be Warriors’ little brother, the one that saved his life. 

“Maybe ask Sky or someone? Or what about Four?” he suggested. “He’s always been good at relationship advice.” Which was odd, really, given that he was single and never mentioned any previous partners. But Warriors had never pried: they were all entitled to their secrets, and he hadn't wanted to bring up any possible bad memories. 

“Yeah.” Time nodded. “Maybe.” 

As they chatted, Warriors idly clocked the rumbling of the surface getting louder. Streams of dirt fell from the ceiling, working their ways past the ancient stonework and crumbling beams. Some got in his eye, and he blinked it out, irritated. The torches around them, constantly lighting ahead of them and going out behind them, flickered oddly. Unlike the other times, the rumbling only continued to grow. 

“Bublins, probably,” Twilight muttered in his ear, noticing his discomfort. “They like travelling in packs. Don’t worry about it.” 

Warriors hummed back, lightly brushing the support post they walked under with his fingers. The wood had decayed, eaten away by termites and ants and whatever underground creatures felt like having a snack. It shook under his hand, but seemed to hold. 

And then he heard a crack. 

Warriors had been in many perilous situations before. It came with the job: he’d been beaten, ambushed, trapped, burned, stabbed, and left to take on entire armies by himself. War was never kind, and he was always prepared for any eventuality. 

He’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be well and truly scared. 

Instinctively, he shoved Time into Twilight, sending them both tumbling back into Wind. But his momentum sent him forward, directly under the rotted beam, and before he could move, another deafening crack rang through the hall. Dirt and rock rained down on him, the walls crumbling in on themselves. He tried to run, but as the world imploded around him, he was knocked to the ground. Pressure settled over him, grit filling his eyes, his nose, his mouth, his ears. Pain shot up his spine, and he cried out. 

The rumbling gradually receded. As the dust began to settle, a harsh cough ripped from Warriors’ throat. He sputtered, hearing nothing but a persistent, high ringing that echoed through his head. Vision blurry from dirt and tears, he tried to stand, but his legs strained against something on top of them. He felt wetness drip down the side of his calves, mixing with dirt and crusting on his pants. 

In fact, his legs were pretty much numb. So was the rest of him. 

He blinked harder, pushing his hands against the ground to gain a little more room to breathe. What must’ve been stone or rubble was settled on his back, pushing him into the floor, but the thought was simple. Clean. Objective. He knew that feeling well: he was in shock. The roof had just caved in on top of him, the rotting supports failing at the exact wrong moment, and he was trapped beneath the rubble. Just heroes’ luck, really. 

Then reality sank in, and the pain hit. 

His legs were on fire, tongues of pain licking up his thighs and torso. A crossbeam had landed flat on them along with the dirt and stone that blocked the rest of the corridor, pinning him to the floor. He bit his lip until iron coated his tongue, just to keep from shrieking. The ringing in his ears subsided just enough for him to hear the rocks on the other side of the cave–in shifting, like someone was trying to dig him out. 

“I can't get to him!” Twilight said, recognizable by his panicked, muffled drawl. 

“WARS!” Wind was screaming. “WARS!” He sounded like a babbling mess, his sobs clear in his voice.

“Here!” he choked out, trying to breathe through the debris on his back and the spikes of pain in his legs. 

“CAPTAIN!” Time bellowed, fierce and loud in a way he barely ever was. That was his terrified voice. Warriors was well acquainted with that voice. “REPORT.” 

“HERE!” he bellowed back, feeling like his throat was tearing itself apart. For a moment, he stared at the dark hallway in front of him, hesitating. He could always tell them he was trapped. In fact, he should tell them he was trapped. Knowing the status of every member of a party was integral to everyone’s health and safety. They could figure out a way to help from the other side of all the rubble. They would know to reach him as soon as possible. They’d be able to at least try to help, and then they would know why he died. “I’M OKAY!” 

There was a beat of silence, and he prayed they believed him. Then murmurs started up, but they didn’t make it through to him. What if they tried to dig him out and failed? What if they never found him? Goddesses, what if they did find him, long dead from blood loss, only partially visible, lying just a few feet from where they had been standing? Maybe he should tell them, and save them the pain of that: while there wasn’t much in his life to go back to besides Zelda’s expectations, Impa’s expectations, the court’s expectations, the world’s expectations — well, he might not have much to lose, but he knew the heroes loved him dearly, and he loved them with equal fervor. He couldn’t do such a thing to them. He really should tell them. 

“OKAY!” Twilight finally yelled. “HERE’S THE PLAN: WE CAN GET TO YOU THE LONG WAY ROUND. STAY WHERE YOU ARE!” 

“‘Kay,” Warriors managed. He wasn’t exactly going anywhere. 

“CAPTAIN, ARE YOU SURE YOU’RE ALRIGHT?” Time asked. 

“Yeah! It, uh…” Warriors swallowed. He had now committed: there wasn’t much point in denying his own words. It would only distract them. “Missed me.” 

“WHAT?” 

“YES, I’M FINE!” he yelled. “JUST DUSTY.” 

“GOOD!” Wind called. “HANG TIGHT, MATE.” 

Their faint footsteps receded, and Warriors was alone. 

“You got it,” he said to no one. “Mate.” 

∆∆∆

Maybe it hadn't been the greatest idea to lie to the others. 

Warriors lay there, completely trapped, his legs pulsing with pain. He counted to one hundred. He tried to compose several sonnets. “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day…” No, that’s stupid. He blew little patterns in the dirt that made him cough. He recited his own daily schedule, and then Impa’s, and then Zelda’s. He thought about his old battalion, back during the war — Nathan and Kelsie, Andrew, Harrow, and all the others — and then about the other heroes: their favorite foods, their least favorite times of day, their preferred weathers and colors, their little quirks and habits that he’d picked up on after travelling with them. He did all the little tricks to keep him alert and aware, to occupy himself, to ignore the pain and keep his wits and not fall back into shock. 

It still hurt. 

He was still going to lose his legs at the very best, by the time the other heroes got to him. He was still fucked. 

It was one thing to say that he was okay with dying, but it was another thing entirely to experience the slow trickle of death, to sit there and try to find something to do as the life drained out of him agonizingly slowly. 

It was horrible. 

He was just figuring out the cube root of 2,562 when he heard something faintly from the darkness. It could’ve been nothing. It could've just been his imagination. 

He shut up anyway, trying to focus. 

“Hello?” a voice echoed down the corridor. It sounded…young, maybe. Uncertain. Confused. Lost. 

It sounded oddly familiar. 

“Hey!” he called back, smacking his lips together to try and wet them. The endeavor was all for naught: dust coated his lungs as thoroughly as it coated the rest of the tunnel. “Over here!” 

The soft swishing of fabric reached his ears as someone came closer: he could hear their panting breaths, but not much else. Strangely, the torches in their sconces, ones that had lit up so oddly whenever any of the heroes had passed them by and that were now lit near Warriors as well, did not light the darkness ahead. He squinted as the sounds came closer, but no torchlight down the hall broke through the utter gloom. 

“Hello?” the voice asked again, almost in front of him. “Anyone there?” 

“Here!” he called out, but broke into a coughing fit. As he gasped for breath, choking on his own spit, the rustling got nearer before coming to a stop. 

“Holy shit,” the voice said, bewildered. 

Warriors looked up, blinking the dust out of his eyes. A pair of dark boots were standing above the ground. 

He blinked again. There was a figure hovering just at the edge of the torchlight, barely visible. But it had a familiar silhouette, one that Warriors was used to seeing with a hammer or a pair of tongs in one hand, always curious, always thoughtful, always assertive, always kind. The figure’s dark tunic, split in quadrants, was rumpled and dirty, like it had been dragging itself through the labyrinth for days or even weeks. Purple hair that would have brushed its chin was pulled up in a ponytail, flyaways held back by a burgundy headband. Its burning orange eyes pierced the darkness, locked on him. 

A Dark Link. Four’s Dark Link. 

Warriors tried to shove himself to his feet, only to barely bite back a yell as his legs and back didn’t move with him. More blood welled from his lip, and he spat it out. There was nothing he could do. He was entirely at its mercy, trapped beneath dirt and wood and rock, unable to move, at risk of a — goddesses forbid — spinal injury if he didn't have one already. He couldn't escape, couldn't reach for his sword, couldn't count on allies to drop in or some happy accident to occur. He was alone, bleeding and stuck, with a Dark, and there was nothing he could do. 

The Dark stepped into the light, not even bothering to touch the ground. It frowned, a glint of sharp teeth poking from between his lips. Warriors tried to control his breathing, keeping his gaze firmly trained on it. It approached until it was just in front of him, and he watched its boots touch down in front of his face. He squeezed his eyes shut and bent his head. There was nothing he could do. 

This is where I die. This is it. Killed by a Dark because I didn't bother to let my brothers help me. 

Breath bated, Warriors awaited the final blow. 

“Yikes,” the voice said. “That, uh, that ain't looking too good, huh, buddy?” 

The Dark was staring at his legs — or where his legs should be — with an expression that was some mix of concern, disgust, panic, and ashamed amusement. Altogether, its slim, delicately sculpted face — at odds with Four’s rounder, sturdier one — looked like it had swallowed a lemon. 

“Like, do you need help or something?” it asked. “Cuz I think I can always—” 

“What do you want with me, Dark?” he growled, entirely thrown by still being alive. 

The Dark skipped back, looking oddly alarmed. “Excuse you? I'm Shadow, mister! If you're going to be rude, at least get it right! In fact, who even are you?” 

“None of your damn business,” he snarled. He scrabbled for something to defend himself: a rock, anything. 

“Uhhhhh, I think it is, actually,” the Shadow scoffed. “I’m the one who woke up here without a clue what's going on, and there's only enough room for one of those. You gotta know what's going on here if you're crazy enough to be the only other person I've found. Where even are we? This is the Light World, right? I'm not wrong about that? You sure look like a Light Worlder. And it has to be underground, I guess. Some kind of dungeon or something? But there isn't any rhyme or reason to anything I've seen, it's all just…hallways.” He eyed the rubble again. “Structurally unstable hallways, at that. Oh, yeah! You probably want help with that, huh —” 

He reached forward, only for Warriors to slam a large rock on top of his toes. 

“OWWWWWW!” he screamed, hopping back. “What is wrong with you? I'm trying to help!” 

Warriors scoffed. “Right, and I'm Princess Zelda.” 

“No, you're not,” the Shadow grumbled, cradling his foot. “She's so much nicer than you.” 

“Good.” 

“Hold on,” the Shadow said after a pause. “Is that it? Not even gonna answer my questions? Not gonna help a guy out? I don’t even know what this place is, let alone how to get out!” 

“Like I’ll let you out,” Warriors snarled. Something shifted on top of his legs, and he bit back a whimper. “I’m not letting you anywhere near your Link.” 

“My what?” The Shadow was suddenly in front of him, orange eyes wide and gleaming, and he flinched back only for a bolt of pain to shoot up his legs. Half hysterically, he clocked a strange, geometric scarring pattern that laced up the Shadow’s neck and cheeks like broken glass. “Did you just say ‘my Link’? You know Link? Oh, this is brilliant! Do you know where he is, mister….” He trailed off, clearly looking for a name. Warriors ignored the bait. 

“I just told you,” he hissed instead. “I won’t let you anywhere near him.” 

“Jeez, fuck you too,” the Shadow drawled, rolling his eyes. “Please don’t bite my head off. Let’s just try again. Okay. So here’s the deal. You have something I want. Clearly, I have something you want. Let’s just truce.” 

“What do you have that I could possibly want?” Warriors spat. 

The Shadow smirked. “Hands, my friend. I can get you out of there. You’re not looking too good, though. You considering losing the legs, or what?” 

Warriors just snarled. 

“Look, I’ll get you free. Minimal damage, and you can just walk away. That’s that. But I want you to tell me what you know about Link.” 

“I’m no traitor,” Warriors hissed. “It’s never gonna happen.” 

“Okay.” Without preamble, the Shadow plopped himself down beside the wall, knees to his chest, and started twiddling his thumbs. 

Warriors stared. “What are you doing?” 

“Waiting.” The Shadow smirked. “I’ve got no clue where we are, no idea where your friends are, and not a single order to follow — as if. I have literally nothing better to do, man. It’s your legs. You do you. I’ll just…be here.” 

“Get out of here,” he demanded. 

“Nah.” The Shadow grinned, all sharp teeth and mischief. Warriors felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. “First person I've found down here. Don't think I'm gonna give that up.” 

“Just — fuck — get away from me,” Warriors hissed, trying to keep an eye on his twiddling thumbs, but he just spread his hands gleefully. 

“I am away from you,” he sneered, his voice grating. 

Warriors didn’t reply, trying in vain to breathe through the pain in his legs. The Shadow, remarkably true to his word, did nothing but keep sitting there, humming a little tune, staring up at the crumbling ceiling and letting the rubble press down more on the captain. Warriors could hear nothing but the occasional shower of dust from overhead, the Shadow’s humming, and his own laboured breathing. 

“Y'know what I could really go for?” the Shadow suddenly mused. “I could go for pesto and butter on toast. I don't know why. But I've got a craving for pesto and butter toast. Actually, y'know what, I heard there’s a bakery in Hyrule Town that makes some killer bread, just absolutely to die for. Never been there myself, but V — a friend of mine wanted to take me there one day.” 

“Who, Vaati?” Warriors interrupted scathingly, trying in vain to ignore the crushing force on his legs. He vaguely remembered Four saying something about Vaati being a mouse–sorcerer–eyeball–bat– thing that had opposed him on both of his adventures. No one else had heard of the mage, but there was always the chance—

“Hmm? No?” the Shadow stared at him as if he was the one talking about something as inane as bread while being crushed and threatened by a Dark Link. Shadow. Whatever. “Man, I hate that guy. No class at all. Besides, he was always rude and mean and thought he could control me.” He scoffed. “What a joke.” 

“Can’t control you?” Warriors echoed. “Who do you work for? What do you want?”

“Re lax, man,” the Shadow chided. “I'm a free agent. Listen, ‘kay, I got spit out of the Dark World somehow and ended up here, but unless it was Link, I’m not gonna care about whoever brought me back. It was their choice, and if I don't do what they want, then boo–fucking–hoo, but I'm alive now and I'm perfectly fine doing my own thing, thanks muchly.” He preened, looking very much like a cat who just got the cream. Warriors couldn't deny that there was some lightness to his frame, like a weight that should be there wasn't anymore. He looked…well, a little bit like a shadow on a late night around a campfire, dancing and mischievous and untethered and endlessly energetic. 

The rubble shifted, sending new pain shooting through his legs. Without help soon, he’d probably lose them. The thought sent chills down his spine, making him recall his own soldiers hobbling along with canes and rolling through camps in wheelchairs, their eyes dull and hopeless. 

Somehow, the idea of this Shadow — a Shadow Link that did whatever he wanted and liked pesto on toast and had offered to help him out — didn't seem nearly as terrifying. 

“What do you want with him?” Warriors grunted. 

“Who, Link?” Shadow frowned. “Oh, come on! Are you serious? I just want to see him again. That’s all.” He huffed angrily, rubbing his forehead. “I’m not gonna hurt him, I swear. I know I'm his Shadow or whatever, but that doesn’t mean I want him gone. He’s my friend.” 

“Does he see you that way?” 

“Does he — well, I sure fucking hope so!” Shadow snapped. He bared his teeth in a snarl, his wispy hair and hood whipping in a furious, intangible wind. “I died for him! And I’d do it again!” 

The brickwork rumbled again, shaking all around them. The rubble must have shifted, because as it subsided once more, something in his legs cracked. 

Warriors bit back a scream. He tried to breathe through the pain, straining to focus on both his shaky inhales and the threat in front of him. There was a threat in front of him. He had to remember, there was still a threat in front of him. 

But he wasn't in danger, was he? Not yet. Either Shadow was an idiot or he didn't want to hurt him at all. 

“Uh oh,” Shadow muttered, hopping to his feet. Warriors tensed, watching his feet hover for a moment too long before touching down, but his uneasiness was lost between waves of pain and pressure. “You don't look too good.” 

“Thanks,” he breathed, gritting his teeth. “I didn't notice.” 

“Yeah, no problem. But listen, you’re running out of time, and I'm running out of entertainment,” Shadow observed. “And against all odds, I’d prefer to not watch you get squished. So, are you gonna let me help or not?” 

Shadow had plenty of time to kill him, and he hadn't yet. If he wanted to be led back to the other heroes to attack, they could all hold their own. And frankly, for all the teasing, it was true that if he wanted to keep his legs, Warriors needed them free yesterday. He didn’t have to like it. It just had to happen. 

“Get this shit off me,” he finally ordered, his voice cracking. 

“Yessir,” Shadow crowed, giving him a jaunty salute and scampering over to the pile of rubble. Warriors fought the urge to call him back into his line of sight. “You ready?” 

“Just do it,” Warriors gritted out. 

“Alrighty. Here we go. Three….” 

“Do it!” 

“Fine, fine! Two one! Go, go, go!” 

The pressure was lifted, and Warriors nearly moaned in agony as blood flowed freely down his calves. Between winces and whines, he inched himself away from the rubble by his forearms. 

“You could stand to move a little faster,” Shadow called, his voice strained tight. Warriors didn't dignify that with a response, trying to focus on scooching as far forward as he could. He heard a grunt behind him, and shoved himself as far as he could, twisting his head around to see. 

With a crackle on wood and a shower of dirt, the crossbeam slipped from Shadow’s fingers and slammed into the ground. The shade stumbled back, swearing as he shook out his hands. Sweat stained the back of his tunic, but he cast a glance over. “All good?” Warriors glared, trying to summon up any vestiges of intimidation he had left despite bleeding all over the floor. Yet Shadow still stepped back, hands held up in surrender. It was an odd gesture to see on a Shadow Link. Warriors wasn't a fan of oddities. 

He scooted closer towards the wall, keeping half an eye on Shadow as he rifled through his bag for bandages, salves, healing potions, fairies. He knew he had packed a red potion somewhere, but when he looked deeper into his bag, his hand caught on something sharp, and he pulled away with a gasp. He had nicked his finger on a shard of broken glass. 

His stomach dropped. He looked even more carefully, checking the bottom of the bag. It was indeed soaked, and a fine dusting of glass at the bottom was regularly dispersed with larger shards. His only potion had broken. His bottle had broken, and those never broke. All he had were his small first aid kit and an extra bit of magical burn cream in a tin that would hardly be useful. 

“Do you have any healing items?” Shadow was complaining. “You’re buddies with Link, don't you hero types always have gobs of potions on you?” 

“Sure,” Warriors spat, “when we haven't had a ceiling collapse on us.” He pulled out the broken shards of the bottle from the bottom of his soaked bag. 

Shadow grimaced. “Ah.” 

“Shut up.” He pulled out gauze and a roll of bandages, marginally pleased to see they were both untouched, and started to wrap his shins. 

“Uhhhh…you want some help with that, bud?” 

Warriors huffed a laugh. “Absolutely not. In fact, back up a little more.” 

“You're such an ass,” the little shade mumbled, crossing his arms. “I'm out here trying to help out a friend of Link, if you weren’t lying about that, and you're gonna bleed out because you can't accept my help? Do you even hear yourself? Come on, don't make me have to find Link on my own, man! Imagine that conversation. ‘Oh, hey, love of my life, I'm back from the dead! By the way, did you have a friend with a blue scarf and a downright mood–killer attitude? Oh, you lost him? Makes sense, yeah, I met him. He kinda took my place. Bled out right in front of me. Sure, I could’ve done something, I guess, but he was all independent about it. Bummer, huh? Anyway, wanna go stargazing and catch each other up on what's going on, just like old times?’ Pfft. Bet he’d love that. He’s always been a big fan of ‘friendship’ and ‘teamwork’ or whatever. And, I mean, I guess I get it, sort of. Peons are pretty similar, right? Same idea. Kind of. More equality, though. But the fact of the matter is, he’d probably hate me if I just let you die, and that's if I even manage to find him again! Cuz right now, I'm over here with no sense of direction, no map, no resources, and no way out, and you probably have at least two of those, right? So what I'm thinking is —”

“Oh dear goddesses, are you capable of shutting up?” Warriors interrupted, tying the last bandage tight. It was hardly his best work, but hopefully it would stay until he could find the other Links. “Alright, here we go.” He pressed against the wall, pushing himself up inch by agonizing inch. Shadow scuttled forward, grabbing his arm and pulling him fully to his feet. Warriors’ skin crawled at the contact. 

“Get off me,” he grunted, pushing him away. 

“You’re gonna fall,” Shadow observed. Warriors ignored him. He took a staggering step forward and his knees buckled. From the corner of his eye, Shadow took a step forward, reaching out, but Warriors caught himself on the wall. 

“Not. A. Word,” he hissed. 

“Whatever,” Shadow grumbled, crossing his arms. “Have fun being miserable, I guess. Where are we going?” 

“I’m going to find my friends. You’re going to go away, or I’ll kill you,” Warriors stated. “Scram.” 

Shadow let out a free, ear–splitting laugh, doubling over in midair and letting the dim light glint off his exposed fangs. Warriors barely breathed, hand moving to his sword despite his inability to even stand. “That’s hilarious! You think I’m gonna leave? I upheld my end of our deal, right? You haven’t told me anything about Link, let alone told me where to find him!” He wiped away a tear. “Nah. We’re heading to the same place. I think I’ll stick with you, friend.” 

“We’re not friends.” 

“Cool.” Shadow stuck out a foot, pushing himself away from the wall and further down the hallway. Firelight from the torches on either side set his form flickering as he got farther away. “Well? Are you coming, not–friend?” 

Warriors looked longingly at the rubble, praying that, through some divine intervention, it would all shift to make a clear path for him. Nothing happened. 

He sighed and turned towards the only direction he had available: further into the dark hallway. And closer to Shadow, who floated a foot or so above the ground, arms crossed and eyes glinting. A distinct sense of doom fell upon his shoulders, but he had no other choice. 

Hugging the wall, he made his way deeper into the darkness, step by struggling step. 

∆∆∆ 

“Hang a left,” Warriors grunted, trying to look at the route on his map with one eye and Shadow with the other as he staggered along. 

“You betcha,” Shadow agreed, looking both ways down the corridor before entering it. The torches around the doorway burst alight as Warriors entered after him. “Y’know, why don’t you just go first? What’s the logic here? You’d see whatever’s up ahead,” he mused, “if there’s ever gonna be anything but brick.” 

“Uh–uh,” Warriors commanded immediately. “You stay in front where I can see you.” 

Shadow was silent for a moment, regarding him with orange eyes far too wise for his young face. Then he grinned a toothy grin, and Warriors wondered if he’d imagined it. “Nice change of pace, I guess!” He started skipping down the hall again, almost a foot in the air. “You said you have a map?” 

“I did,” Warriors admitted. “And I am perfectly adept at navigating from behind you.” 

Shadow shrugged. “Okay.” 

They walked in silence for a bit. “Walked” was a strong word. Shadow walked on air, his feet several inches above the stone. Warriors stumbled along, clinging to the wall as his legs cried out with every step. He wasn’t about to stop, though. That was just asking for trouble. 

“Why do you hate me?” Shadow suddenly asked. 

Warriors’ hand slipped. He caught his balance before he face–planted, but his body still rebelled against the sudden upset. “What?” he asked. 

“Why do you hate me? I know you do.” Shadow didn’t sound particularly angry, or upset, or emotional at all, but turned towards the darkness ahead as he was, Warriors couldn’t see any of his face. 

“I…I don’t hate you.” The lie felt like ash in his mouth. But was it a lie? Shadow was an enemy. But he was also…not quite evil. Not really malicious. Warriors didn’t know how to feel. 

“But you do,” Shadow said immediately. “You’re frightened by me. I guess I get it. I haven’t…I wasn’t a good person. I never met you, but I’m sure you’ve heard of me. Or something like me — all that Dark nonsense. But I’m trying to do better. Link taught me to do better. He showed me what life could be like. I’m not all burn–the–world–down–and–rule–it–ourselves anymore. But it’s more than that, isn’t it? It’s something else.” 

Warriors’ mouth was dry. So he said nothing. 

“Hmm.” Shadow spun around in midair, grinning toothily. Warriors brutally beat back the urge to shiver at the sight. “You really are a weirdo, huh, dude? Whatever. Link always does pick up the strangest people. So, where to next?” 

Four talks to his shadow sometimes, he nearly blurted out. He talks to it like it’s the only person that matters and then cries when it doesn’t respond. He doesn’t think anyone notices. But he’s one of my men. Of course I notice. 

I kept him safe for you, he almost said. 

“Straight at this intersection,” he grunted. 

“You betcha,” Shadow confirmed. 

∆∆∆

Warriors stumbled to a halt, his body protesting against even one more step. He slid down the wall with gritted teeth, careful not to stop beneath one of the wooden supports that were appearing less and less frequently. Shadow disappeared into the darkness, chattering to himself, and Warriors let him, trying to breathe through the waves of pain that wracked his body. When he looked, the bandages around his legs were stained with blooming scarlet splotches. That was never a good sign. He had been pushing himself much too hard. 

Like he needed bandages to tell him that. 

He fumbled for his first aid kit, his fingers missing the latches twice before catching and flipping them open. As he rewrapped his shins, panting through the pain as quietly as he could, he tried to listen for Shadow, but the shade seemed to have disappeared for good, unaware that Warriors had trailed behind. 

Good riddance. He was an unknown anyway, and Warriors was hardly in any shape to defend himself from a surprise attack or a betrayal of any sort. He ignored the voice that called out in concern for the poor shadow that was wandering the halls of such a strange bunker, alone and lost forever and then some more. 

He took a long draught from his waterskin, trying to banish all thoughts of Shadow. He needed to get back to Time, Twilight, and Wind as quickly as possible. That was his goal. He just needed to do it. He’d take it slower, but he’d already been waiting around for long enough. 

Here we go. 

He pulled himself to his feet, relying on the wall to hold his weight and keep his balance. He was already getting better at that. As he took a small step forward, his hand slipped against the cold stone, knocking into one of the torches that lit the small area around him. 

“WATCH OUT!” someone yelled. 

All Warriors felt were hands on his back, and he was shoved out of the way, his legs screeching in pain. He hit the ground hard, his chin scraping against the dusty ground. He felt like he had bitten clean through his tongue. 

But behind him, Shadow cried out. Warriors turned to see him wildly batting at his shoulder. The torch had fallen from its sconce and hit him directly in the hollow between his shoulder and his neck, setting his tunic ablaze. Warriors was, shamefully, frozen as he watched Shadow hit the deck himself, rolling around to rid himself of the flames. After a long, terrifying moment, Shadow stopped and pulled his smoldering tunic and undertunic off, throwing them to one side and flopping back to the floor. The torch guttered weakly on its side about a meter and a half away. The hall was filled with only the harsh sounds of their gasps. 

“Sorry I pushed you,” Shadow croaked. “Are you…okay?” 

Warriors pushed himself up on his elbows, prompting Shadow to sit up as well. He caught a glimpse of bright red, welted, shiny skin on his shoulder and neck and a lattice of shining silver patterns spreading out from his heart before the shade turned away. The air was thick with the smell of burned flesh. 

“I’m fine,” he breathed. “...All good?” The hesitation was clear in his voice, and he cursed himself for it. 

Shadow’s breathing was ragged. “I, uh…” he muttered, “don’t like light. Hurts even worse than the, uh, fire.” 

Ah. He should’ve realized. Dark creatures didn’t do well with light at all. That would make such a burn twice as bad for Shadow. 

“Here.” Before he thought too hard, he pulled out his tin of burn cream — the last bit of it he had left — and held it out. Shadow’s head whipped around and he stared at the offering, bewildered. 

“It’ll help,” he sighed. “No big deal. Just first aid.” 

“Th–thanks.” The shade obediently took it and began dabbing it on his shoulder, hiding winces. Warriors had never seen a Dark — or Shadow — look so…fragile before. Uncertainty was an odd expression to see such a lively person wear. 

“Why did you do that?” Warriors asked as soon as he had handed the tin back.  

“I don’t know.” Shadow laughed, almost hysterically. He ran one hand through his mussed ponytail. “I don’t even know. I guess I just…didn’t want you to get burned.” 

“Well…thanks,” he said, and held out his waterskin. “Go grab your tunic and make sure it’s out. And have a fucking drink, goddesses above. I’ll go put the torch back and see if I can find the map, I think I dropped it over—” 

He cut himself off, his mouth going dry. There was a small, deliberate pile of fresh ash beside the torch, which he mechanically picked up and replaced back on the wall. He had dropped the map. He had dropped the map when he had fallen, and it had been completely engulfed by the torch’s flames. 

That was not an eventuality he had prepared for. 

“What’s up?” Shadow asked. His undershirt was mostly unscathed, and what Warriors could see of the burn on his neck and shoulder was mostly healed from the magic in the cream. He had tied what remained of his tunic around his waist, but it didn’t seem to be smoking anymore, which was a good sign. 

“The map burned,” he reported. 

Shadow’s jaw dropped. “The map burned?” 

“The map burned.” 

“Ughhhhhhh, we’re so fucked,” he groaned, pulling on his feather earring. Warriors hadn’t noticed it before. Four had one just like it, but orange instead of blue. “The map burned. Now what?” 

“Excellent question.” Warriors considered the options. They could always wait and just hope the others would find them, but the clearest path he had marked out on the now–destroyed map required almost a complete backtrack and then another several hours of walking. Or they could go themselves, relying on Warriors’ memory that was, frankly, imperfect after the strain he had under, and hoping that they found an exit or the others and didn’t get hopelessly lost. 

Or they could always sleep on it. 

Warriors wanted to sleep on it. 

Shadow agreed. They’d sleep on it. 

∆∆∆

After an uncomfortable rest, in which Shadow had been shivering so hard the chattering of his teeth had echoed through the hall until Warriors had finally given up his scarf and just slept with his bag as a pillow, they had some of his rations and decided to at least try and navigate the bunker, so they had set off. 

Shadow had yet to give back the scarf. Warriors didn’t ask for it. 

“Turn here,” he said. The pair did so, Shadow taking point but looking back every so often, checking on him. Warriors found he didn’t mind the gesture. 

They were taking the pace much slower than the day before, quick enough for Shadow to stay floating but slow enough that Warriors didn’t feel ready to explode with every step. He still clung to the wall, but he felt miles better than before. Admittedly, the bar for that was all the way down in hell and dancing a tango with the good ol’ devil, but he was still grateful for it. Sleep, even lousy sleep, was a magic all of its own and a good remedy for every single thing in life, in his opinion. His mind was clearer, his memory easier to dredge up, his pain tolerance raised once more, and his outlook slightly less bleak. 

“Now what?” Shadow asked, coming to a stop at a four–way crossroads. Warriors hobbled in front of him, examining each of the doors, ignoring the one they came from. 

“I think it was this way?” he suggested, trying to place the crossroads on his mental map. He nodded to himself, heading to the right. 

As he turned the corner, a chu fell from the ceiling in front of him, just barely missing his nose. Warriors staggered back, reaching for his sword, but his hand slipped from the wall, and his legs began to buckle. All at once, a glowing dagger of darkness shot past his face into the chu, making it splatter all along the wall, and Shadow popped up under his sword arm, taking all his weight with a grunt. 

“Why are you so fat?” he complained, wrapping an arm around Warriors’ waist. “It’s like you eat bricks!” 

“I think the real problem’s you, pint–size,” Warriors muttered without thinking. He felt Shadow freeze for a split second, and he realized what he had just said. It was like he was talking to the other Links — to Four or Wind or, gods, even Legend. 

He should have been worried that a Shadow had wormed its way past his defenses so quickly. 

But Shadow’s thin, fragile frame relaxed under his arm, and he swatted Warriors’ hip with a snicker. “Not my fault you’re a giant. In fact, you should be eternally grateful that I would deign to stoop so low as to help you.” He snapped his fingers, and the dagger embedded in the slime–covered stonework on the ground vanished. Warriors was suddenly struck once again by how vulnerable he really was. If Shadow could summon knives like that so easily, Warriors could have easily been killed long ago. If he was playing a long con, they would add an extra layer of chaos to a battle that would be messy and chaotic enough without them. Hell, Shadow could just knife him now, straight to the kidneys, and leave him to bleed out, and in his state, Warriors would be able to do nothing about it. 

But he wouldn't be able to make it back to the other heroes alone. And frankly…

Maybe Shadow wouldn’t do that anyways. 

He rolled his eyes, leaning more against the wall, but didn't push Shadow away. 

∆∆∆

“Wait, so you’re Link, but Warriors, and you’re from the future, and we’re in the future right now but not as far, and you’re travelling with a bunch of heroes from across time including Link — Four, stupid nickname, whatever — and the actual Chosen Hero himself, trying to find a Dark Link who’s been dragging you across entire eras? And now you’re here, separated from them and they’re trying to find you and you’re trying to find them and we don’t have a map but they do so basically this is gonna end really really well.” 

“That’s pretty much it, yeah.” He grinned. “Kinda hard to believe, huh. I promise it’s true.” 

Shadow eyed him. “I’m still holding out judgement on whether or not that’s true. I’m still gonna need some more proof.” 

Warriors rolled his eyes. “How is the Triforce symbol not enough proof? No one but the Goddesses’ Chosen have that.” 

“We don’t have the Triforce or whatever,” Shadow informed him primly. “We have the Light Force, and just Dot has that, and we’ve already established you’re not her.” 

“Yes, yes, I’m too mean.” 

Shadow gasped theatrically. “Wait. If the Goddesses’ Chosen have that symbol, what if you’re Ganon? Pretty sure I saw it on him before I, y’know, died. Maybe I should drop you after all…” 

Warriors did not like the grin in his voice at all. “Let’s not do that. Actually, speaking of dying, sorry if it’s insensitive, but how are you…here? Alive again?” 

He felt Shadow shrug. “I don’t know. I was dead, and next thing I know, I’m here, lying on the gross floor and completely alone. Though — and don’t quote me on this — I could swear up and down I heard someone walking away when I woke up. That was a little bit ago. Not sure how long. But that’s why I was calling out when I found you: thought maybe I could find someone else. Clearly, I did.” 

“Huh.” Warriors frowned, stumbling over a loose brick. Shadow yelped a little, but they both kept their feet. “Sorry. But…hmm. A few of my friends and I came here to look closer at a sudden surge of dark magic that was sensed a little bit ago. That might have been your resurrection, actually.” 

“Neat.” Shadow pursed his lips. “Well, uh, Thanks, Captain. For investigating.” 

“Just call me Warriors.” 

“Okay, Captain.” 

∆∆∆

“What's your opinion on legumes?” Shadow asked. He led Warriors carefully under an archway. 

“Food’s on the mind recently, huh? First the butter pesto toast and now beans.” He let go and leaned against the wall, panting. There were red patches of varying hues soaking through his bandages. Great. How had he not noticed?

“Eh.” Shadow leaned next to him and crossed his arms, suspiciously taller than he was thirty seconds ago. Warriors looked down. He was floating a solid foot and a half off the ground. “Haven't eaten in years, have I? Too busy being dead! I'm starving!” 

“Yes, terribly sorry for your struggles.” Warriors patted him on the head and Shadow nodded as if the universe had just justified his every opinion. He shoved himself back to his feet, groaning as pain shot through his shins. Shadow barely caught him. “Let's just…Let’s just keep going.” 

“Aye aye, Cap’n,” the shade snarked, but Warriors could feel the worry in his lingering glances. 

∆∆∆

Shadow halted mid-step, making Warriors stumble and catch himself. 

“Do you hear that?” he asked. 

Hear what, Warriors nearly retorted, but he frowned. Distant clangs and shouts echoed off the rock walls. They exchanged glances with each other. Sounds like that meant fighting. Fighting meant people meant, hopefully, friends. 

After all, there weren't too many people crazy enough to find, much less traverse a maze like this one. 

Together, they hobbled towards the clanging. 

“Can I drop you?” Shadow muttered as they got closer. “Not now, just…in case.” 

Warriors managed a nod, trying to keep most of his weight on the wall so the shade could let go if needed. “That’s fine,” he uttered. “If this gets bad, don’t do something stupid.” 

“Who, me?” Shadow gave him an award–winning grin, teeth and all. “Of course not. That doesn’t sound like me at all.” 

“Alright, pipsqueak,” he muttered. “You may have everyone else fooled, but me? Can’t get me.” Shadow snicked. 

They worked their way down the hall, torches lighting on either side until they could see to the end. The sounds of battle, familiar as the pommel on his own sword and etched into his bones like a sigil on iron, were almost deafening, bouncing off the walls and rebounding time and time again into their ears. 

“What the fuck?” Warriors breathed. 

Bokoblins were tearing down the corridor ahead of them, howling with bloodthirsty rage. 

“Well, that’s fun,” Shadow smirked. “Hate to be the bastards dealing with them.” 

One bokoblin heard him. It peeled off, its spiked club raised, running down the hall towards them with its slavering jaws twisted in a snarl. 

“Aaaaand you had to say something,” Warriors muttered. His legs twinged at the thought of fighting. “Nice.” 

“Shut up.” Shadow slipped out from under his arm, taking out his shield and blocking the blow. Warriors watched a dark sword coalesce in his hand, and he stabbed it into the raging bokoblin, pulling up and out, utterly disemboweling the thing. It disintegrated into smoke and ash at his feet. Shadow looked at the inky blood dripping from his blade and snarled. 

“That shit’s vile,” he spat. “You good?” 

“Yeah. Yeah,” Warriors panted, leaning on the wall. “Might sit down for a sec.” 

“Fine. Keep your sword out.” Shadow flicked the blood off his blade and turned to the battle. 

“Giving me orders now, huh?” Warriors huffed a laugh, but unsheathed it. “Noted.” 

“Not like you're in much condition to do it yourself, Captain,” he snarked back, kicking a few feral rats that skittered across the foul–smelling floor. A few more monsters broke away from the main pack — maybe smelling blood, maybe sensing easy pickings — and Shadow readied himself. 

“Here we go,” he muttered under his breath, shaking out his arms. Warriors lifted his own blade, ready to stab anything that came near. 

Shadow clearly wasn’t formally trained, but he was definitely far from a slouch with a sword. His parry against the first slavering bokoblin was as clean as clean could be, and he made quick work of the next few monsters. A lizalfos charged him, blade glinting in the firelight, but he just kicked it in the snout between a stab at a boko and a slice at a chu. The lizalfos skittered back into the darkness, and Shadow spun, focusing on the last few stragglers that had been dumb enough to come near him. 

He didn’t notice the lizalfos approach again. 

“Behind you!” Warriors shouted, trying to get up, but he was too weak, and Shadow was too slow. The lizalfos’ blade flashed towards Shadow’s head. Warriors couldn’t look away. 

Two things happened. 

The first: Shadow dropped into the floor. Not onto the floor — Warriors watched him fall into the shadows made by himself and the monsters from the flickering torchlight. He should have expected it: he was a Shadow. The ability to shadow travel made complete sense. The boy popped up in front of Warriors again, entirely whole and only slightly wrong–footed. 

The second: a gilded, golden sword glinted in the low light, slicing into the lizalfos. It cried out, dropping its knife and scuttling away, and there stood Time in dusty, blood–stained armour. Dirt was smeared across his face and sweat stuck his filthy hair to his forehead, but his lone blue eye glinted with determination. 

“Oh, thank the gods,” Warriors breathed. “Hey, Sprite. Could use the help.” 

“I can see that, Cap,” Time called back with a twirl of his sword. “Glad you’re alive. We’ll get you out of here.” 

“Oh, thank the Goddesses,” Shadow laughed. “This another one of your hero friends?” 

Before Warriors could reply, Time leaped forward, blue eye blazing. Gold flashed in firelight, heading straight for the shade. 

“What the fuck?” Shadow yelped, stumbling back. “I’m on your side!” He dodged once and caught Time’s next strike on his shield with a cry. 

“Get away from him,” he growled, an unstoppable whirlwind of steel that kept missing Shadow by mere hairs. 

“Sprite, that's enough!” Warriors yelled, briefly thanking all that was good and holy that Shadow wasn’t attacking back and complicating the situation more. 

But Time didn't listen. His next swing caught on Shadow’s shield, pushing it away, and he twisted smoothly into a stab straight for the heart. Shadow threw himself to the side, barely too slow, and shrieked as Time’s blade pierced the same shoulder that had been burned the day before. 

He was going to kill Shadow if he wasn't stopped. And it was a base instinct, necessitated by war and honed by officer training, that made Warriors gather up the remnants of his authority and bark out an order. “STOP!” 

Time, momentarily stunned, met his eyes. “Captain—” 

“He’s a friend,” Warriors said defiantly, meeting the older man’s eyes. Time knew how much he despised Darks, Shadows, or anything lurking unseen. If he was saying that Shadow was an ally… 

Time took a step back, and Warriors watched Shadow deflate in relief, clutching his shoulder. 

“Golden Three, man,” he panted, his other hand on his knee. “You’re…ho– ly, you're good.” 

“Yes, yes, he’s very good at killing you,” Warriors interrupted, pulling himself to his feet. “Time, I’ll tell you what’s going on, but by all the goddesses, we both need potions. Please.” 

Time obediently handed him a bottle glowing with red liquid. Warriors had almost never been so happy to see something that tasted so putrid. He knocked it back as quick as possible, trying not to let it touch his tongue. He heard a sudden gag and a disgusted yell that suggested Shadow hadn’t yet learned the same lesson. He tried not to smile, feeling the magic surge through his limbs and begin to knit his legs back together. The pain still lingered, but standing up didn’t cause him to be in agonizing pain anymore, and he certainly wasn’t bleeding anymore. He’d gladly take the win. 

“You alright there?” he chuckled, turning to a distraught–looking Shadow, who stared up at him with huge orange eyes. 

“No!” he complained. “I’m being poisoned!” 

“Nah, it just tastes like that,” he snickered. “You’re fine. And you’ll be fin-er if you drink it quick. That shoulder won’t heal itself.” 

“Fin-er isn’t a word,” Shadow mumbled, but tossed the rest of the potion back like a shot. 

“I think it is,” Time said, making Warriors laugh even harder as Shadow sputtered through the potion. 

“Golden Three,” he marveled, rotating his shoulder. “That’s shit, but it kinda works. Thanks. Also fuck you, mister…” 

“Time.” 

“Not sure, I’ve been stuck down here for too long,” Shadow retorted. “Alright, then, Time. I’m Shadow.” 

He stuck out a hand, and Time shook it. “I can see that.” 

“Hey, Time?” Warriors asked. “Where are Twi and Wind?” 

Time jabbed a thumb behind himself. “Cleaning up. I saw the ones that peeled off, figured they were going after someone.” Sure enough, the sounds of fighting had diminished almost entirely. They were probably fine. 

He frowned, considering something that had been lingering at the edges of his mind. “We hadn't seen any monsters before. Why are there so many here now?” 

Time grimaced. “I wish I could tell you. But we should have backup soon. Yesterday, Wind called Wild to everyone else here: I felt bad taking them from their vacation, but with you gone….” 

“Makes sense,” Warriors nodded, ignoring the pang of guilt in his chest. “That’s probably a good thing, though. Our smithy’s gonna want to see this one as soon as possible.” He elbowed Shadow, who punched him hard, a bluish blush rising to his cheeks. “Oh, what, like you haven’t been whining about being apart from him the entire time.” 

“Shut up,” Shadow grumbled, pulling Warriors’ scarf over his head and hiding his face entirely. Warriors grinned. Time just stared, baffled, but he waved him off. 

You’ll see, he mouthed. 

“Wars?” a voice yelled. He glanced up to see Wind and Twilight at the end of the hall, their faces etched with painful hope. 

He grinned, holding out his arms. “Hey guys. Sorry I’m late.” 

Wind shrieked, bolting down the hall and throwing himself into his arms. Twilight was hot on his heels, clapping his shoulder with a bright grin. “Great to see you, Cap! Glad you made it!” 

He grinned back. “All good. Told you I was alright.” 

“Oh, was that what that was?” Shadow muttered, but Warriors ignored him. Twilight did not. 

“Uh, hi there,” he said. “Is that Wars’ scarf?” 

Shadow’s head popped out from underneath the fabric, his blush unfortunately dissipated. “Name’s Shadow. I assume you’re Twi?” 

“Twilight, yeah.” The rancher cast a quick, baffled glance at Warriors, but seemed mollified by whatever he saw on his face. “And this here’s Wind.” 

“Hey!” Wind waved. “You know Four, I guess?” 

“You could say that.” Shadow scratched the back of his neck through the scarf. “Helped out your Captain here, too. He’s kinda dumb, if you couldn’t tell by the bandages.” 

“Actually, yeah, what’s with the bandages?” Twilight asked, folding his arms. Time and Wind’s heads snapped towards Warriors, who gulped. Shadow took a subtle step backwards. Traitor. 

“It’s nothing,” he tried to explain. “No big deal. I’m alright now, we just got attacked by the…rats.” 

Twilight made a sympathetic face, hopefully about to back him up on the sheer horribleness of rats, when Shadow opened his big fat mouth. “He was stuck under an old crossbeam and a bunch of rubble when I found him.” 

“You were WHAT?” Time yelled, his eye suddenly blazing. 

“You said you were fine!” Wind raged, punching him. 

“Are you kidding me?” Twilight said, running his hands through his hair. 

Warriors turned to Shadow, who just shrugged. “They’re your friends, it’s your own fault if people care about you.” 

“I can’t do this today,” he groaned. “I hate you.” 

Shadow snuggled deeper into his scarf. “I’m sure you do.” 

Whatever. “We should probably get out of here, Shadow’s the dark magic anomaly we were looking for.” 

“You are not getting out of this conversation,” Twilight interjected. “What were you thinking, not telling us? Do you know what could have happened? You could’ve died, Wars, and we wouldn’t have known. We wouldn’t have been able to help. Do you understand how reckless and stupid and—” 

“Yes, I do,” he interrupted, pushing between him and Wind to start walking down the hall — walking, not hobbling or staggering or stumbling or anything like that. He’d missed it. “But you couldn’t do anything anyway. It’s over with. We can leave now.” 

“Sure, but you have to talk about this!” Twilight argued. 

“That’s not okay, Wars,” Wind agreed, jogging to catch up. “We need to know whenever someone in the party is injured or in trouble: didn’t you tell us all that after Wild and Hyrule ran off for the first time?” He had said that. He was just surprised Wind had remembered. 

Time cut the other two off, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I thought this had stopped,” he murmured, and that hurt worst of all. “I thought you were safe.” 

He took a deep, shuddering breath. “I am safe. I didn’t want…I like being here, Time. I do. I am safe. I just didn’t want…I didn’t want you guys to suffer, knowing you couldn’t save me while I was still alive. That’s all. ‘Sides, that’s not a great way to go out.” He chuckled awkwardly, but Time sighed tiredly. 

“We’ll talk later,” he promised. “Let’s just all go home.” He started walking, and with worried glances, Twilight and Wind started walking as well. Warriors was about to follow as well when he realized he was missing someone at his side. 

He turned around to see Shadow behind him, standing there uncomfortably, hesitantly, uncertainly, his shoulders next to his ears and Warriors’ scarf around his head. 

“Well?” he asked. “You coming or not? Thought I heard something about buttered pesto toast in Castletown with a certain someone.” 

Shadow cracked a grin and scurried to his side. “Sounds delicious, Captain. You’ll pay for it, right? Wanna impress him, but I’m kinda broke.” 

“Keep dreaming, kid.”

∆∆∆

Thunder rolled and rain poured all across Hyrule Field when they resurfaced. Time and Twilight had tried to take a little shelter by the collapsed wall, chatting about their next steps, but Wind had immediately run out of the burned–out, broken shell of a house to begin splashing in muddy puddles, his bright, relieved laughter ringing out across the plains under the expanse of grey, open sky. The fresh scent of petrichor washed over Warriors as he stepped out of the bunker. He stood under the massive hole in the ceiling looking up at the sky, feeling the rain soak into his clothes. The dirt and dust and blood gradually sluiced off of him, and he choked out a laugh, rejoicing in the feeling of standing, of breathing fresh air, of being out. Raindrops pattered against his eyelids and kissed his cheeks, just as relieved to see him. 

He spun around, water flicking off of his hair, to hold out a hand to Shadow, who still lingered in the doorway to the bunker. It occurred to him that the shade had been down there for substantially longer than him, alone and lost and confused, completely cut off from fresh air. Sure enough, Shadow’s eyes were closed, and he was taking slow, heavy breaths, tasting the glorious scent of rain and life. 

“C’mon,” Warriors said. Shadow’s eyes flickered open. “Gotta see the world, right? More proof it’s the future?” 

“Right.” But Shadow didn’t move. 

He frowned. Every muscle and nerve screamed at him to just get away from the bunker, but he approached anyway. “You okay?” 

Shadow nodded jerkily. “Fine. It’s fine. I just…” He bit his lip. “It’s just bright.” 

Warriors considered that. He hadn’t noticed it before, but even with the blanketing clouds and pouring rain that pounded its rhythm on the rotting roof, the surface was still so much brighter than the tunnels far below. 

“Tell you what,” he decided. “Can we go to the door? It’s not too bright in here, and that way we can figure out if the light will hurt you at all. And we can look out for Four and the others.” 

Shadow nodded, pulling his scarf tighter, and Warriors slung an arm around his shoulders, pulling him to his side. They strolled to the front door of the cabin, avoiding puddles and passing Time and Twilight, who gave them passing glances but didn’t stop them. 

Warriors leaned against the outer wall of the house with his arms crossed, feeling the rain drench his face and boots once more. He didn’t mind it. Shadow hung in the doorway, orange eyes peeking out from beneath the azure scarf. 

“You wanna try it?” Warriors asked.  “You seemed to be doing just fine with the light from the torches down below. As long as you didn’t touch them.” 

“That’s…different.” 

“How is it different?” he pressed. “The sun is just a big ball of fire. Same stuff. Besides, it’s at least a little filtered out. Lot safer to test than full sunlight, I’d bet.” 

“I’d bet you have no clue how to test anything,” Shadow grumbled, but he hesitantly edged his pinkie finger out of the doorway, pulling it back with a small gasp. Warriors snapped his gaze towards him, but Shadow was staring at his finger, bemused. There was no damage. 

He watched as the shade stuck his hand out under the rain, giggling as water splashed his palm, then his elbow, then his shoulder, then his hair. The scarf came down, settling around his shoulders, and he looked up, eyes wide, into the pouring rainstorm. Thunder rumbled, making his ears twitch. 

Warriors smirked, and Shadow was shoved fully onto the muddy ground. 

“HEY!” he protested, popping up. Warriors couldn’t muffle his amusement, chuckles turning into full belly laughs at the sight of Shadow, muddy, soaked, and absolutely furious. He looked like a wet cat. “See how YOU like it!” 

All of a sudden, Warriors was tackled into the mud. Fistfuls of the stuff were pressed into his face, and he pushed them away, laughing even harder. “Okay! Okay! I’m sorry! I give!” 

“Yeah, you’d better.” The weight disappeared from his chest, and he sat up, wiping the mud from his eyes. Shadow was hovering a yard or two away, twirling with the raindrops. When he saw Warriors looking, he stuck out his tongue. 

What a brat. 

“GUYS!” Wind suddenly cheered. Warriors and Shadow both looked over to see Wind running through the pouring rain towards a small group of figures trekking through the mud. As they watched, he threw himself at one of the figures: a long–haired, lanky one that caught him quick. 

Wild. 

“Time, Twi!” Warriors called. “Backup’s here!” He pushed himself to his feet as they came out of the house, grinning as the figures came closer. Warriors pulled Shadow out of the air, and all four walked to meet them. 

Wind was chattering with Wild and Legend, presumably catching them up on everything that had happened. When Hyrule saw them all, he ran forward, scanning them all and narrowing his eyes at Warriors, who waved him off. 

“Great to see you all!” the traveler said. “Find anything cool?” 

“Not really,” Warriors told him, jabbing a thumb at Shadow, who had puffed out his chest and grinned brightly despite the tension in his frame. “Just this loser.” 

Hyrule’s eyes flew wide, and he reached for his sword, making Shadow tense further. Legend and Wild noticed his sudden movement and caught sight of Shadow, reaching for their weapons as well. Warriors was about to step forward to de–escalate, but Twilight got there first. 

He grabbed Hyrule’s hand gently and lowered it, shooting stern glances at the other two. “He’s a friend,” he reassured them. “Or so Warriors says. And I trust him. He’s been a great help.” 

“Who’s a friend?” Sky’s voice asked. He poked out from behind Legend, scanning all of them just as Hyrule had, smiling at the sight of no major injuries. The glint in his eyes made Warriors concerned that they were all going to be subjected to either massive amounts of cuddles or “friendly” spars to punish them for scaring him. But then his gaze landed on Shadow, and his face gained a calculating sort of look. “Hey, there! I’m Sky.” 

Shadow’s jaw had dropped entirely, and he simply stared at Sky, nodding a little. Right. Warriors had forgotten that he knew about the Chosen Hero. Shadow shook himself. “Uh–hm, yeah. Yeah, uh, h–hi.” 

Sky grinned a little more, and he opened his mouth to say more, but a voice came from behind Wild. “Golden Three, move already,” it grouched. Warriors watched Shadow light up. “Let me through, fatass.” Four muscled his way past Wild, who chuckled, and took in the sight of the five of them. His golden hair had been plastered to his skull, and his clothes, like the rest of them, were soaked through, but he had shadows under his eyes, like he hadn’t been sleeping. His sleep schedule hadn’t been fantastic recently, Warriors had noticed, but he hadn’t realized it had gotten that bad. 

Shadow would probably help with that, though. No more one–sided conversations, no more quiet sobbing in the middle of the night. Look, he wanted to say. He’s here, Four. I kept him safe for you. 

But when he saw Shadow, Four’s face went stony. He turned around, emotionless, and started walking away. 

“Smithy?” Sky asked. “Where're you going?” 

“Back to bed,” he called, his voice blank. “Can’t see straight. Sorry.” 

Everyone stood, silent and uncertain, as the smithy walked away. For half of a terrifying second, Warriors considered the idea that Shadow had lied. He was a trickster, after all. He was a dark being skilled in lies and deception and betrayal. Maybe he didn’t love Four at all. Maybe he had just used Warriors to get close enough to kill him. But as he watched, Shadow’s face crumpled, then utterly shattered, and he internally cursed himself. 

Shadow was a teenager who liked pesto on toast and didn’t like people telling him what to do and dearly, dearly loved Link Smith. And Warriors could trust him. 

Four hadn’t been sleeping. And Shadow had been dead. 

“Well?” he murmured, giving Shadow a little push. “What are you waiting for? I may not know shit about romance, but I know he’s been missing you.” 

“Clearly…clearly not,” Shadow managed, swallowing. “It’s…whatever. Guess it’s been a while. He’s entitled to his own opinions.” 

“He sure is,” Warriors agreed. “And his opinion is that he’s hallucinating. Go get him. Quick! Go! Run!” 

Shadow swallowed again. He stumbled, unsteady, but Warriors shoved him again, and he took off sprinting. Time and Sky pulled Wild and Legend out of the way just in time, before they got bowled over. Warriors started after him, walking as he watched the shade tear across the field, skidding to a stop behind his hero. He watched Shadow grab his shoulder and spin him around. He watched Four blink, then blink again, then again. Four’s shriek as he tackled Shadow echoed across the rain–soaked field, able to be heard decades in the future. 

Warriors grinned beneath the pouring rain. Lightning flashed in the far distance, illuminating the shaking forms of the smith and the shade as they cried in each other’s arms, finally reunited. 

Maybe he would pay for that toast. They certainly deserved it.