Chapter Three (Darkstar)

Lark was surprised by how quickly Darkstar recovered. Within a day she was strong enough to shout insults and throw her empty dishes at him when he came to visit. She made it absolutely clear that while she was a prisoner, she was not to be trifled with.

            Lark locked the gate behind him as he pressed a hand to a shallow wound on his forehead that had been caused by a plate that had been launched.

            “And don’t come back again!” she screamed after him.

            He sighed, wishing that she would sleep so he could see if her wound had healed properly. With all the thrashing and fighting she did he was sure that she had reopened her cut.

            He took a different approach. “Has your wound healed?”

            There was a stunned silence, and then he heard Darkstar laugh darkly. “As if you care! I’m not a baby, I’ll take care of myself!”

            He rolled his eyes and figured that was the closest thing to an answer he was going to get. He turned and looked at her once more before he left her to be.

            Over the next few days Darkstar’s attitude toward him did not change. He visited her three times a day to bring meals and check on her. She did not eat much, and Lark wondered if that was typical for a Shekiah or if she was just trying to spite Ganondorf. She had not touched the blankets he had brought to ward off the damp cold of the cell.

            “Get under a blanket for the love of the sages!” he exclaimed one day. “You’ll catch your death!”

            Her reply was the same as it had been every night. “As if you care.”

            A week passed, and Lark soon found himself visiting her more and more often. Her remarks were always biting and full of raw loathing, but he could not bring himself to feel anger toward her. He also found that Ganondorf visited her occasionally, and he worried that perhaps she would tell him that he had visited her far more than the allotted three times a day.

            When he asked her she only sniffed disdainfully. “I’m no tattle. We Shekiah may be scum in your eyes, but we still have our dignity!”

            From then on, Darkstar’s chidings weren’t as bitter.

            One day Lark was called away to a social gathering, and for the first time realized that it almost hurt to be away from her. He was only gone for a day and a half, but he rushed to her cell as soon as he returned.

            And then there was the prospect of marriage. He was of the age where most men began to court, and he stalled his father by radical excuses, which barely persuaded him. Still, Damir sent young women to seek him out. He was courteous, but turned each away.

            After one such day, he was given a box of sweets as a gift from the last girl. He raised an eyebrow and slipped it under his cloak, then went to grab Darkstar’s dinner from the cook.

            He examined the candies and picked out a delicately shaped morsel of marzipan in the likeness of a summer rose. Smiling, he slipped it under her napkin and then left her to discover it herself. When he returned to gather her dishes, he found that she had touched only a small portion of the fruit and bread, but the candy was gone, and he saw her huddled in a corner, nibbling on it quietly.

            It then became tradition for him to always give her a candy with her meal, and he discovered from later conversations that she enjoyed the marzipan the most. He made it a point to have it as often as he could.

            It was about two weeks into her imprisonment when she began to talk to him freely. She mostly asked about him, and deftly avoided questions about herself. “I’m just another Shekiah,” she said. “Nothing special about me.”

            Except that you’re a Shekiah, and that you’re the last one, Lark thought. But he did not voice it.

            It was an odd relationship, and it was smooth at first. They talked of everything and nothing. He enjoyed her company, and hoped she felt the same way. Though she still spoke bluntly, her eyes seemed softer when he was around, and once or twice, he had been able to coax a small smile from her.

Lark never questioned what he was doing until the repercussions of his actions were staring him in the face.

            Damir was in his study when he called for Lark. He was surprised, seeing as how he and his father had become somewhat distant over the last couple of weeks.

            “How is Darkstar?” Damir asked distantly.

            “She’s just fine. She gains strength every day.”

            Damir nodded. “That’s good. You’ve done your duty well, and you are relieved of your responsibilities.”

            Lark had to carefully conceal the shock on his face. “I…I’m glad…but won’t she need to be taken care of?”

            His father rose and shook his head. “She won’t need care because she will be dead tomorrow.” He strode out the door without another word.

            Lark felt the blood rush out of his face. Though he knew this would ultimately be her fate all along, he had forced it to the back of his mind. “Yes, Father,” he said quietly to the empty room.

            He couldn’t bring himself to visit her that night. He went up to his room and stared out the window for a long time, wishing for sleep to come. When he finally closed his eyes, he pictured Darkstar sprawled out on a stone table, thrashing against the chains that held her as Ganondorf and Damir slowly approached. Through claps of thunder he could hear her crying despairingly.

            “Lark…Lark!”

            He saw himself then, at Ganondorf’s side, with emotionless eyes even as he heard her cries, and he was carrying a knife coated with Sylvic Oil in his hand.

~*~*~*~

            Darkstar clutched Sage’s shawl tightly as the two fled far into the night. She had been seven at the time, no more than an infant by Shekian standards, but old enough to remember with crystal clarity. Sage was nearing her thirtieth year, but the prolonged lives of the Shekiah made her look not a day older than thirteen.

            “Sage,” Darkstar pleaded. “Please, take me home…”

            Sage continued her relentless pace and only pressed the petite Darkstar closer to her as she ran. “No, Darkstar, there is nothing there for you but death.”

            “But my brothers…!”

            A strangled sob came from Sage’s lips, and for a moment she faltered. “They are…fine. They’re in a beautiful place now.” She peered behind her cautiously, and then gestured to a forest to the east. It was no more than a mile off. “We’ll stop in Kokiri Forest,” she said wearily. “We’ll hide there.”

            As soon as Sage sat down, she leaned against a tree, the first sign she had shown of the toll the run had taken on her. Her breath came in labored gasps.

            Darkstar went over and nestled in her lap. “Sage, are you okay?”

            She opened her ruby eyes and smiled. “Oh, Dark, I’ll be fine.” She raised herself to her feet and gathered some lush leaves that had not fallen too long ago. Gently, she lifted Darkstar and placed her on the pile, draping her own violet cloak over her to provide more warmth. “Sleep now,” she said. And then, with tears in her eyes, “Forget me, forget all of this.”

            Darkstar put her tiny arms around her and the pair clung to each other one last time. “Sage,” she said. “Where will we go?”

            Sage opened her mouth to reply but she heard angry voices in the distance.

            “They can’t have gone far!” one said.

            “These are Shekiah we’re talking about!” the other snapped. “They’ll disappear in a second.”

            Sage pressed two fingers over Darkstar’s lips and leaned closer. “Darkstar,” she whispered softly in her ear, “in time you will come to despise the people that did this to us, but please, you must learn to forgive. My life is over, but I see great things for you. You must survive!

            “And that is why I must do this…please forgive me.”

            The bushes on either side of them parted to reveal two heavily armed men. Both bore the insignia of Hyrulean Knights but wore the helm of a regiment that Darkstar didn’t recognize. “You, girl!” the larger said as he whipped his sword up to Sage’s throat. “Are you the one they call Sage?”

            Sage drew herself up and stood tall and proud. “I am.”

            Darkstar tried to call out but found that no sound came from her throat. She struggled, but found that she was bound. By the looks on the men’s faces, she knew that they didn’t see her and thought Sage was the only one.

            The men laughed and the younger of the two maneuvered around her and gripped her hands, holding them tightly behind her back.

            “Why are you doing this to us?” she asked quietly. “We are only humble servants of the royal family.”

            The larger man withdrew his sword and put his face only a finger’s breadth from her flawless face. Sage didn’t even flinch.

            “Traitors,” he said slowly. “Don’t pretend you don’t know.”

            “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I don’t—“

            But the men didn’t allow her to finish. The younger man administered a well-placed hit and Sage fell unconscious. Darkstar could only watch, helpless and mute, as the older man carried Sage’s limp body away.

            “Another victory for the Crimson Followers!” they both shouted triumphantly.

            The symbol on their helm burned itself into Darkstar’s mind. Crimson Followers, she thought, you will pay for this…

            She didn’t know how long she remained in the dark, but eventually, motherly arms wrapped around her. “Darkstar?” the voice asked disbelievingly. A word from the stranger and she was released from her bonds.

            “Impa?” Darkstar mouthed, but lost consciousness before she heard the reply.

~*~*~*~

Chapter Two (Darkstar)

It was a bleak midwinter’s day when the messenger rode in with his dispatch. The rider pushed his ebony horse to its limits, digging his heels into the horse’s side whenever the poor beast slowed. Only when they reached the black iron gates of Ganondorf’s fortress did he dare to stop.

            “Message for the king,” the rider said bluntly to the two vigilant guards. “Urgent. If I stable my horse, can you have the king greet me by the time I am finished?”

            “How urgent?” one of the guards asked disconnectedly.

            “It’s about the Shekiah girl.”

            The guards quickly moved into action. Abandoning their posts while calling for another to take their place, one rushed into the castle to bring his king the news while the other took the reins of messenger’s horse and motioned for the man to dismount.

            “You can go on, sir. Ganondorf will not want to wait, and I will take good care of your horse.”

            The rider dismounted fluidly and grunted his affirmative. The guard gave him directions to the room where the king would be waiting, and then the messenger walked briskly toward the castle, his cape flowing like a crimson tide.

            The king was eagerly awaiting him in the west wing of the castle. He was a gargantuan man, physically fit and muscular. His skin was a dark tan, gained from his life under the harsh Gerudo sun. His hair was the color of flames, and his eyes were a venomous yellow. A large, ceremonial jewel rested on his forehead, proclaiming his heritage and birthright as a leader of the Gerudo.

            “You have news of the girl?” he asked in a voice like thunder.

            With a shaking hand, the messenger offered up a letter sealed with red wax and bearing the insignia of Caspian.

~*~*~*~

            Lark pulled down a thick tome from the shelves, heaving it up in his arms and finally dropping it on the table with a thud. It was long, tiresome work going through the records archives, but he did not mind it too much. With deft fingers, he flipped through the hundreds of pages, examining all that had been shipped to Lake Hylia port within the past five years. He took his index finger and ran it lightly along the page as he scanned, and smiled in victory as he found the shipment he had been looking for over the past several hours.

            Shipment: 700 Sylvic Oil

Date: 15 Winter

            Confirmation of arrival never received

            He quickly copied the data onto a small notepad on a nearby table and then continued skimming the entries until he found a second entry.

            Shipment: 1000 Sylvic Oil

            Date: 20 Spring

            Confirmation of arrival received on 30 Spring

            “Have you found it?”

            Lark turned to see a tall and lanky man in the doorway, dressed in robes of crimson with a flowing black cape. His hair barely grazed the nape of his neck and his eyes were such a light blue that sometimes he appeared to have no iris at all.

            “Yes, Father,” Lark said, holding up the sheet with his scribbled notes. “Where does King Ganondorf want me to put them?”

            The man in the robes motioned for the younger boy to follow. He acquiesced silently, slipping into his father’s shadow and trying to go unseen. He was much more at home in the archives, where he could work in quiet solitude. In the halls of the castle, everyone was watching everything. It was a wariness that pervaded the castle as they all strived to please the temperamental king while silently slipping their way up into power. Lark had no desire to join the deadly contest.

            At length they came to an ornately carved set of doors. The man in the cape turned to his son and placed his hand on his shoulder. Looking him squarely in the eye, he said, “Ganondorf will need this immediately, but do not linger over it. You are to give it to him and then return promptly to my side. There is something important about to happen, and the king is graciously allowing you to witness.”

            Slightly alarmed, Lark lowered his head. “Yes, father,” he muttered simply.

            And then the doors were thrown open.

            Lark almost recoiled in shock. Before him lay the throne room, forbidden to all but the most trusted, who arrived in royal splendor, and the condemned, who arrived in chains. Seeing as he was not bound, Lark assumed that he had finally grown of the age to be recognized by the king, and that some duty awaited him. The thought unnerved him, even though his father had been training him for this day for as long as he could remember.

            “Ah, Damir, you’re here at last. And is this your son?”

            Lark immediately recognized Caspian’s voice. He stood at the table, on the right hand of the king. By the smile he wore on his face and the wicked gleam in his eye, Lark knew that Caspian had done something to gain favor with Ganondorf. Lark noticed that he had been given a heavier, more elaborate cloak as a mark of his promotion.

            Hearing the greeting, Ganondorf looked up and stared at Lark for a long time. His gaze reminded Lark of his little sister, who inspected her new toys thoroughly before using them. Lark kept his gaze level, though it was hard to withstand such searing scrutiny.

            Damir stepped forward. “Lark has found the information you requested, my liege.”

            “Ah,” Ganondorf said simply. “Well, bring it here.”

            Lark approached and placed it in the king’s large hand and then shied back as he had been instructed. Ganondorf smirked and then opened the letter.

            “I thought as much,” Ganondorf said. “The first shipment must have been intercepted, but the second made it through. That should suffice.”

            “It did,” Caspian replied. “We even managed to bring her here without use of the oil.”

            Lark pondered this for a moment, then in a brief moment of inspiration asked, “Her? There’s a girl---“

            The glances from the three older men cut him off. He lowered his head, his cheeks crimson, and muttered an apology.

 Ganondorf glanced at Damir. “How much does he know?”

            “Nothing. It isn’t information I would give even to my own son easily.”

            The king then turned to Caspian. “When will she be here?”

            “She is at the gates. At your word, my men will bring her in.”

            Ganondorf nodded once and smiled wickedly. “I’ve waited a long time, let’s not postpone our meeting any longer.”

            Caspian left, clasping his hands behind his back confidently. Lark stood at attention and waited where he was. He had hoped to stay out of the attention of his father and the king, but luck was not on his side.

            “Tell me, boy, what do you know of the Shekiah?”

            “The Shekiah?” Lark repeated, speaking slowly and carefully. “They are…figures from stories I heard as a child. The shadow people. They guarded the royal family—oh!—the old… the false one, that is,” he hastily corrected, giving a bow as an apology.   

Ganondorf did raise an eyebrow, but did not comment on Lark’s slip. “You think the Shekiah a child’s tale, then?” he smiled in amusement. “How would you like to meet a legend?”

            The doors creaked and a small army of men came marching through, each dressed in the crimson uniform and obsidian helm of Ganondorf’s followers. There was only one gap in the red and black tide, where a woman was being dragged between two men.

            Lark’s mouth fell open as soon as he saw her. There was something different about her, he could feel it. There was no other explanation than for her to be a Shekiah. He knew immediately by her fabled silver-white hair and face markings. She was tall for a woman, and slender, but strong. Her dark robes clung to her as dirty, wispy rags, torn from her ordeal. Even so, though she was weakened and chained, there was nobility in her, and a mythic aura of an ancient, powerful magic. Her eyes remained closed, her face smooth as marble, composed as could be, despite her dire situation.

            The two men who dragged her by the arms threw her to the ground, where he body bent into a kneeling position before the king. She kicked the guard behind her, knocking the wind out of him, but another grabbed her hair and shoved her face into the floor. The men jeered, Ganondorf smirking down at her. She endured the shame soundlessly. When she was released, and she raised her head, and happened to meet Lark’s eyes.

            The color reminded him of velvet roses. It was a beautiful, passionate color, and he was spellbound. He extended a hand palm up, though he was feet away, as if to help her. Then her face hardened again, and her eyes became as fierce as flames. Confusion was replaced with utter loathing and she looked away in resentment.

            She thrashed against the arms that held her and Ganondorf laughed, clearly amused. “Darkstar of the Shekiah, I welcome you to my humble palace.”

            Darkstar’s lips curled in disgust. She raised her chin proudly, the only form of defiance she could muster in her current position.

            Ganondorf strode forward and looked her in the eye, then took her hand and muttered a single word under his breath. Darkstar would not cry out, but her sharp intake of breath betrayed her pain.

            Ganondorf frowned. “You haven’t been treating her well, have you Caspian?”

            “…Was I supposed to?”

            “Under normal circumstances, no, but I need this one strong. I would not have my only link to immortality marred by frailty.”

            Damir and Caspian nodded as if they knew what he was talking about, and even smiled a little, but the way Ganondorf said it made Lark both curious and fearful. Though he hated being kept in the dark, he decided not to press the matter for fear of what they meant.

            “But what of all the oil?” Damir asked casually. “Will it be put to use here?”

            “Most certainly. Just because she’s here,” he sneered, “doesn’t mean she won’t need to be held in check, especially as she regains strength.”

            Darkstar struggled and forced herself to her feet. “As if you could subdue a Shekiah!” she spat venomously.

            “Ah…defiance.” Ganondorf said. “Damir, Caspian, leave and take your men. There’s something I wish to show Lark.”

            Lark stiffened, feeling like his father was abandoning him as he walked away.

            “This is your new charge, Lark.” Ganondorf said, gesturing to the girl when everyone else was gone. “She is to be well fed and warm, but not overly comfortable. If she tries to escape, use the oil.”

            Lark shook his head. “I don’t know anything about the Sylvic oil though, other than it’s highly prized and was shipped in bulk to Lake Hylia.”

            “I figured as much, and it’s time you learned.”

            Ganondorf drew a small dagger from a tiny sheath on his hip and handed it to Lark, who took it with a gulp. “In the storeroom there is…“ He stopped abruptly, peering at Darkstar. He examined her for a minute, and then moved forward, grabbing a small pouch that was tied to her waist. “Never mind. Our little Shekiah thief seems to have stolen some already.”

            He took the pouch and opened the toughened leather. Inside was the bottle Darkstar had found on the ship. “It would seem that she doesn’t know the nature of Sylvic oil either, or else she wouldn’t be carrying it.”

            He moved one long finger across the runes and whispered aloud the ancient translation in fluid syllables. The letters shone a sickly purple in response to Ganondorf’s touch, more of energized darkness than actual light. Darkstar’s eyes dilated as she stared on.

            “Do you remember, Shekiah? You have felt the touch of this oil once before.”

            Darkstar’s lips were slightly parted as if she didn’t believe what she was seeing. She remembered vividly the feel of the runes beneath her fingers in the cell and cringed. “I…don’t…” But her voice was weak and disbelieving. Lark saw an emotion flash through her eyes, and knew that she did remember.

            Ganondorf pulled the cork out of the bottle and emptied the contents into a small silver bowl. The oil itself might have been mistaken for water. “Lark, put your hand in the oil.”

            Lark looked doubtfully at the small bowl, but approached. He stretched out his fingers and cautiously dipped one in, and only when the liquid did nothing did he immerse his whole hand. It was surprisingly warm and felt more like thick air than liquid.

            “Drink,” Ganondorf commanded.

            Lark looked at Ganondorf for a long time, as if to question, but Ganondorf let the silence speak for itself.

            Lark cupped his hands to gather as much of it as he could. He took one small sip and almost jumped in surprise. It was sweet and light with a taste that vaguely reminded him of blueberries. He felt light headed for a moment, but once the dizziness passed, he felt fully energized.

            “But if it restores energy, then why are you using it on her?” He allowed the rest of the oil to slip through his fingers and back into the bowl.

            Ganondorf handed the bottle to Lark. “You know enough of the ancient language. Read it yourself.”

            “The first part is…” he squinted his eyes in concentration. “Sylvic Oil. And then…bane of the shadows--”

            Lark whirled around to check on Darkstar, seeing as she was not kept in check by a guard. “She’s gone!” he cried when he did not see her.

            Ganondorf quickly took the dagger from Lark and thrust it into the remaining oil, giving the previously silver blade a crimson color with the very tip black. With practiced ease he turned slightly to his right and threw the knife at what appeared to be only empty space.

            Darkstar flickered into view only when the knife struck her in her side. The room was silent, except for the pained gasps the came from Darkstar’s lips as she struggled to stay upright. Lark’s heart lurched as she stumbled and eventually sagged against a wall.

            “Darkstar!” Lark cried. He no longer cared if Ganondorf was behind him, he ran to her and caught her a second before her head hit the cold stone floor. Tears fell freely from the Shekiah’s eyes, as hard as she tried to fight them, a sight that ripped at his heartstrings.

            “Concentrated light,” Ganondorf said simply. “That’s all that Sylvic Oil is. To those who live in the light, it will heal, but for Darkstar’s people, who dwell in the shadows…”

            Lark placed a hand on her cheek. It was cold with sweat.

            “…You can see the results. The Shekiah are known for healing quickly, but the oil will slow recovery to twice as long as it would to heal if a human had received the wound. Aside from the pain now, she will also forever carry the scar.”

            “All that Sylvic Oil,” Lark said quietly. “It was solely for capturing her?”

            “I need a Shekiah to obtain immortality, and she is the only Shekiah left alive.”

            Lark raised himself to his feet, still clutching Darkstar tightly. “I…I’ll take her to her cell. I assume you want her alive…I’ll tend to her wound.”

            Ganondorf nodded. “There will be medicines waiting, and it’s far from fatal, even with the oil.”

            Lark grimly set out, and for the first time noticed how incredibly light she was. His young sister weighed more than she did as a fully grown adult.

            “Oh, and Lark…”

            He turned to see Ganondorf returned to the table with the maps. “Well fed and warm, but no pleasantries. She is still prisoner…and I will only say that I know you sympathize with her, but needless affiliation with her on your part will earn you death. This is a test to see how well you will serve me, and I will not tolerate failure. Do I make myself clear?”

            Lark felt the tips of his pointed ears redden. “She’s just…pretty. That’s all, my lord. I wouldn’t actually help her…I am loyal to you.”

            “See that you keep it that way.”

            Lark turned and walked away. Only when he was out of sight did he run, anxious to heal her and see her eyes once more.

~*~*~*~

Chapter One (Darkstar)

“Darkstar,” a voice called softly.

            She flicked her hand at the source of the voice as a warning, but her movement was lazy, and her hand was caught.

            “Darkstar, please.”

            She opened one eye, thoroughly annoyed, to see Nasir beside her. She moved her hands and, to her surprise, found that she had been freed from the rough rope leash.

            She smiled maliciously. “You do know I could kill you, right?”

            “I won’t stop you,” Nasir said sadly. “I deserve it.”

            This took Darkstar aback. She stared deep into his eyes, trying to detect anything that should make her suspicious, but found nothing but sincerity.

            This doused her anger like water on a flame. She suddenly became aware of the deep lines in his face, only made deeper by the light of the flickering candle in his hand. “Why did you come back?”

            Nasir smiled. “I felt guilty, first and foremost of all. I saw your pendant,” here he pulled out the golden symbol on the chain and placed it in her hand, “and I remembered the history of your people.”

            Darkstar looked away.

            “And I didn’t want to be one of the ones responsible for the death of such a proud and beautiful race.”

            There was silence for a long time, and when Darkstar looked up, there was the faintest hint of moisture in her eyes. “I am…the last one then?” she asked.

            “Even Lady Impa has disappeared…” He laid a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

            Darkstar didn’t reply, but closed her eyes for a long while, breathing slowly.

            “But,” Nasir continued, “I was searching through some old documents of mine and I found a note on why you are wanted by Ganondorf.”

            She smirked, chuckling bitterly. “How much did it tell you?”

            “Only of a prophecy, and a vague one at that. But still, if you are the one foretold, then Ganondorf will have reasons for wanting you.”

            “I doubt it,” Darkstar said simply. “I make it a point to ignore prophecy. I think he just wants me because of all the information I stole.”

            Nasir smiled genuinely. “There’s a way to find out. Go to Hyrule. If you find the one called Anay then…”

            “It’s a moot point,” she interrupted angrily. “I’m not going back to Hyrule.”

            Nasir opened his mouth to object, but closed it as he saw the look in her eyes. There was so much anger, hatred, fear, and sadness. Nasir knew all too well what it was that made her hate the golden land so strongly.

            “Then I will help you escape.”

            Darkstar looked up, an eyebrow raised. “At the expense of your life? You’d be willing to risk a fate worse than death for me?”

            “Why else do you think I came back?” Nasir stood up and began to pace. “Before King Ganondorf came into power, I was a wealthy seaman. I traded with Calita, and when I came home I always had my wife and daughter to keep me company.”

            “And then the Hero of Time was exiled…Ganondorf came into power. The king’s men, in his conquest to take over the village of Kuato, murdered my wife and daughter. I still served him out of fear like the coward I am. But I’m tired of…”

            He stopped and took a deep breath. “That man…no, that monster…does not deserve be the king. If you are anyone that stands even a chance of putting a just ruler on the throne once more, then I will give my life to assist you.”

            “Even if you hold the willpower, how do you plan on doing it?”

            Nasir gestured for her to stand as he pulled a large map from his cloak. He laid it on a table in the corner, putting heavy items like candles and shells on the corners to keep it from rolling up on itself again.

            “The pact I made with the captain of the other ship was simple; I offered the added protection of my ship in exchange for you staying aboard. I said I would escort you to the shores of Lake Hylia,” he gestured to a point on the map, “at this port.”

            He moved his finger southward along the map until he reached a narrow river that connected the open sea to the enclosed lake. “This is Zora’s Pass, the only way into Lake Hylia by way of the sea. Despite its appearance on the map, it is wide enough for two ships to sail abreast and is easy sailing. Once we go through the pass and get to about here,” he pointed to a small dot of land in the center of the lake, “I will be able to deposit you onto this little island. Beneath the surface lies the Water Temple, a haven for all those who oppose Ganondorf. The Zoras will be there, and you will be able to seek their aid.”

            “But the other ship?” Darkstar asked.

            “I have planned it so that you will be able to get onto the island itself unseen, and we will continue on for a little ways. Once we reach the port I will flee, but if worst comes to worst, this ship is well equipped for battle.”

            Darkstar ran her fingers along the map. She knew Nasir was lying. The ship was already gravely wounded from their assault earlier; even with the best crew, such damage would take time to mend that she knew could not have passed. He could not hope to best the enemy ship, should it come to a battle. The risk to Nasir was far greater than he admitted.

            The question, then, was if she cared.

            “I will not ask this of you,” she said.

            “I will do it either way,” Nasir replied, his resolve unwavering. “This war has to end.”

            “You will be a fugitive. He will hunt you.”

            “I have nothing left to lose.”

            The Shekiah silently rolled up the map. “…I will do it, then.”

            Nasir clapped her on the shoulder, a gesture that Darkstar did not respond to. “Then it is decided.”

            Both the captain and the Shekiah were unaware that Caspian was outside their door, listening in the shadows.

~*~*~*~

            It was two days before they reached Zora’s Pass. At the latter end of their journey, Darkstar found enjoyment in watching the sleek bodied Zoras zip through the waters, their bluish bodies invisible to untrained eyes. The river was pure, she noted, much purer than the moat that supplied Castle Town with water. She had heard rumors that the Zoras had created tools to help the air-breathers swim as she did, and she decided that she would like that. She made a note to ask them.

            She had played the part of helpless maiden to fool Caspian, but inside she was confident and serene. Freedom, she told herself, was only days away. Nasir never mentioned their scheme again, but she could tell that he hadn’t forgotten by the wink he gave her every now and then.

            After half a day’s sailing the reddish walls of the pass gave way to endless cerulean waters. In the distance was the silhouette of a single tree, marking the small island where Darkstar was to go.

            “Caspian,” Nasir called. “Go to your ship and tell them we are running low on fresh water. We’ll stop at that island and look for an inlet.”

            Caspian raised an eyebrow. “I thought we had plenty…”

            Nasir shrugged. “Check for yourself, if you will.”

            Darkstar smirked, remembering how last night she had carefully poured all but a little of the water overboard while Caspian and the crew were asleep. Her smug expression was hidden behind her scarf. Though everyone knew by now that she was a Shekiah, she preferred to be hidden. She despised the way people looked at her markings, for one, but the Shekiah had also always been known as the shadow people. Darkness was her element; she was most at home enfolded in the shadows.

            After being satisfied that their rations were indeed low, Caspian flagged down the other ship and conversed with the captain. He returned with the captain’s consent, and they altered their course to reach the island while the second ship stalled a ways away.

            Darkstar felt as if sparks of life has been scattered throughout her veins. She tingled with anticipation, barely able to contain herself.

            The Zoras would take her to Calita, she was sure of it. Perhaps with their aid she could swim there herself. She would never have to live under the harsh Hyrulean sun again. She could leave, and eventually, perhaps she could forget her dark past as well.

            When the anchor was dropped and the crew on the island, Nasir put a hand on Darkstar’s shoulder.

            “Make Ganondorf pay.”

            Darkstar nodded silently, certain that she would do no such thing.

            “Go along,” Nasir whispered. “Goodbye, and may the goddesses protect you.”

            She ignored the comment. The deities had been nothing but cruel to her thus far, she saw no reason to put her faith in them now.

Darkstar walked away slowly, and removed her boots so she could feel the grass in between her toes. She went over and lounged casually by the tree, seeing the enemy’s ship in the distance, but not caring. They could not possibly see her.

            “Come aboard!” Nasir shouted to the crew. “Break’s up.”

            Darkstar took this as her cue and she shimmied, unseen, up the tree. Using all of the energy she possessed, she called on the power of her ancestors to shield herself from the eyes of the sailors.

            Once the anchor was lifted, she removed her shield and gracefully slid to the ground. She looked up at Nasir, memorizing his face and vowing to repay him, should the opportunity arise. She owed him that much. She raised her hand in a simple farewell.

            From a distance, she could Nasir’s expression of worry as his lips formed words that she couldn’t hear. She tilted her head to one side, showing confusion. He repeated it, this time moving his lips more frantically, waving his arms. It was many moments before she could read the word on his lips.

            Caspian!

            The implications hadn’t even registered in her mind when she felt cold steel against her throat and a hand lock around her wrists in an iron grip.

            She could only watch in despair as some sort of flare went up, alerting the other ship to Nasir’s betrayal. The enemy ship turned around, approaching at full speed, and Darkstar saw the side panels of the ship slide away to reveal canons.

            “Nasir!” Darkstar screamed at the top of her lungs. “Nasir, leave!”

            But her ally ship was sailing toward her, Nasir’s eyes full of concern.

            “If that’s the way he wants it…” Caspian hissed into her ear.

            Darkstar jerked to her right as if to attempt escape but Caspian pressed the knife closer to her throat. “I really don’t want to kill you, missy. That’s the master’s job.” But she could tell that he would love nothing more than to take her life that very instant.

            “Darkstar!”

            Nasir was on the island now. Behind him were his ship and crew, fighting a battle they could not possibly win, while he stood with his saber bared and gleaming in the fading sunlight. 

            He advanced toward Caspian slowly, keeping in mind the current status quo.

            “Caspian,” he called. “Please, you have no quarrel with her.”

            He didn’t reply, only tightened his grip on her wrists.

            “At least fight me honorably in combat!” Nasir cried desperately.

            Caspian raised a single eyebrow. “Is that what you wish? I would have thought you valued your life more than the pittance this girl is worth.”

            Nasir didn’t answer, but held his battle stance.

            “Nasir…” Darkstar began, but Caspian kicked the insides of her knees and she fell to the ground. She felt his hands leave her wrists for only a split second before another binding took their place.

She gaped as he walked in front of her, and she experimentally tried to stand, thinking herself freed, when her chains shot a strong jolt of electricity through her entire being. She screamed, not so much out of pain as of shock, and fell flat on her stomach. She moaned as she felt the paralysis seep throughout her body.

The two men had gone on without her, each lunging and blocking in turn, neither holding the upper hand as of yet. Nasir’s mouth was set in a grim line while Caspian smiled jubilantly, as if he had already won.

But Darkstar, who was highly trained in the art of swordplay, noticed that Nasir’s strokes were far more fluid, while Caspian’s were jerky and powerful. Even with grace and poise on his side, only one of Nasir’s blows seeped through Caspian’s defenses, which only tore his sleeve from the elbow down.

There was an insignia tattooed on Caspian’s arm…

            Darkstar curled up, wishing it all would end. The home she had known was all in flames around her, the ash and smoke stung her eyes, and her life flowed away with her blood. A beam had long since collapsed, barring the door. She sat in the corner of her closet crying, waiting for death to come…

But a man with a mark on his right forearm somehow managed to reach her. While half of her was thankful for the rescue, the other half recognized him as the man who had murdered her family…

“You’re…” Darkstar stared for a while, as if unable to speak. “Wait, Nasir he’s a Crimson Follower!”

Nasir turned to her, and then back to Caspian, but his opponent had taken advantage of the brief lapse in Nasir’s concentration. A flaming ball shot out of his palm and hit Nasir squarely in the chest.

Time did not slow as she had heard some describe; it all happened so fast. Darkstar screamed something but couldn’t hear herself. But Nasir could, and he smiled at her. “I regret nothing,” he whispered weakly before his eyes closed and he collapsed on the ground.

Caspian was now advancing toward her, and she drew herself up to her feet. She stared at him, not even aware of the tears that spilled from her eyes. “I won’t let you take me…” she choked.

Caspian only extended a hand. “Try to stop me, Shekiah.” The next words were muttered under his breath softly.

And then all Darkstar could see was black…but she could hear a blood-curdling scream.

Her scream, she realized with a shock. 

And Hyrule awaits…

~*~*~*~

Prologue (Darkstar)

She supposed she should be terrified. Perhaps she should scream in terror or faint like the frail ladies of the Hyrulean Court, but she felt nothing but the blackness that she had so carefully hidden her feelings in.

            It wasn’t the first battle she had been trapped in, and neither would it be the last.

            She clung to a rail on the portside deck as the small ship lurched again. Above her she could hear the captain bellowing orders and the crew pushing themselves to their limits to follow them. Lightning tore the sky into pieces and her keen ears were ringing from the thunder.

She had always loved the rain, she thought without emotion as she let the torrents of water wash over her. It was a reminder that not even the mighty sky was immune to sorrow, and could weep once in a while. The wailing wind joined her fray and ripped through her long cloak in a violent, desperate lament.

            A second tremor shook the ship so fiercely that she was thrown to the opposite side of the boat, her cloak tangling in a coil of rope. She grimaced as she made out the sound of canons, but did not hurry to untangle her limbs from the rope. No amount of speed would save her, she thought idly. She was helpless.

The thought did not disturb her.

            “You, girl!”

            A sailor stood in the doorway of the captain’s cabin, the light behind him creating a long shadow that spilled nearly to the head of the ship. “Captain wants you.”

            She rose to her feet, rubbing the spot where her arm had been slammed into a barrel as she had slid. She walked by the sailor with such composure that the sailor was left with a creeping suspicion.

            The captain waited inside for her. He was an intimidating man, standing a head taller than anyone on the ship, and dressed in the red and gold linens of nobility. His ebony hair was plastered to his head with the rain he had recently braved, and she could make out a myriad of emotions in his gray eyes.

            He placed a hand on her shoulder and guided her to an office at the back of the ship. It wasn’t a far venture, but she passed enough sailors to pick up mutinous glares pointed at both her and the captain.

            The office was cozy and tight, holding only a desk, a comfortable chair, and shelves on the walls holding compasses, maps, and other navigational tools.

            The captain massaged his temples as if entirely fatigued as he sat in his chair. “What is your name, girl?”

            “Captain Nasir, I don’t understand…”

            “Yes you do!” he snapped at her. Her eyes suddenly widened, but she showed her surprise no other way. She had not expected this from the cool tempered captain.

            He sighed, as if apologizing for the outburst. “What is your real name? You are not Ayami, are you?”

            She lowered her head, burrowing her chin deeper into the scarf that veiled her face. “No,” she murmured. “I am not Ayami.”

            “Then what is your name?”

            At this the girl raised her head, her ruby eyes burning. She paused before speaking, her voice serene and regal. “The name I carry in your language is Darkstar.” It was all that needed to be said.

            “The Shekiah?” Nasir asked. Darkstar slowly nodded, eyes clouded. The captain leaned back in his chair and put his head in his hands. “I have been harboring a fugitive…”

             Darkstar averted her eyes. “Captain Nasir, you have been kind and fair with me, and I would hope to never harm you. If I knew that word of me had spread I would have taken another route.”

            He eyed her curiously, then waved a hand wearily, seeming to accept her sincerity. “Whether you intended this to happen or not, it makes no difference to me now. Our attackers are kingsmen, and they want you in payment for their retreat! Do you understand the position this puts me in? The crew has half a mind to hand you over here and now.”

            Darkstar nodded solemnly, not trusting herself to speak.

            Nasir’s voice was gentle now, full of sympathy and regret. “I have no grudge against you, and anyone who defies King Ganondorf is a friend of mine, but you must understand that I must return you to Hyrule.”

            Darkstar’s eyes flared with such violent light that Nasir’s breath caught. “You swore to take me safely to Calita!” Darkstar seethed. Though he could not see much of her expression beneath her cloak and the scarf, Nasir could feel her rage.

             “I know I did, but Dark—“

            “No!” she screamed, and for a moment her voice broke. “I can’t go back!”

            Nasir averted his eyes in shame. “I’m sorry, Darkstar, but I did what I must.”

            At this two of the King’s guard entered. “Is this the one?” the tallest of the pair asked.

            “Yes,” Nasir said softly. “Take her away…quickly.”

            The two men sprang foreword but Darkstar was too fast. She leapt for the doorway only to find a small battalion waiting for her. As strong and skilled of a fighter as she was, she could not even hope defend herself against so many. There was nowhere she could run, no place to hide. Though in the end many of the kingsmen bled or lay unconscious on the deck, their hands soon seized her and forced her to the ground.

            She writhed with all her strength as they held her down, fighting until the end. When, at last, the metal chains clasped her wrists in an iron lock behind her back, she fell limp, defeated.

            “Enough,” Nasir called. “I have a destination I must reach before the winds shift.”

            One of the soldiers took a fistful of her long, silver hair, which had spilled loose in the struggle. Nasir swallowed hard as he looked at her face unveiled for the first time. Across her hard, sharp features, bright against her moonlight pale skin, wove mythical markings. Her eyes, wide and bright, shone like embers. From her otherworldly features, he had no doubt that she was truly a Shekiah, a people he once thought lived only in legend.           

Nasir turned his back as she was dragged away, not wanting to see the betrayal in her eyes any longer.

            As he returned to his office, more wearied than before, a glint of gold caught his eye. He reached down to find a pendant, which Darkstar had lost in her struggle. The symbol was an eye, wide and ever-watchful, with a long tear extending from the bottom. Once, he knew from the legends, the symbol had just been the eye. It had been much later that the tear hand been added, to remind all who saw it of the oppression that had beset the Shekiah people from their very creation.

 Nasir clenched his hand on the pendant and let the chain dangle from his palm.

            “I’m no better than the king himself…”

~*~*~*~

            The time she spent on the ship was uneventful for Darkstar. She was locked in the brig below the deck, chained like a prisoner. Soon she lost track of time entirely, it was impossible to tell if she had been there for days…weeks…months…

            Still, she found herself cherishing these moments of quiet solitude, much as a prisoner savors the little time before his execution.

            Food was brought to her at random intervals, as if the sailors only fed her when they remembered that she actually existed. On the stale water and bread she rapidly went from slender to painfully thin…

            But she would have been content to live there forever if it meant freedom from Hyrule, the place she knew she must inevitably end up in.

            She awoke from a dreamless sleep, aching from being curled up so tight against the cold and the damp. As she regained her night vision she found her rations laid out next to her, which she quickly consumed. To her surprise, she tasted dried grapes in her bread, and it was a bit softer than usual. Instead of water, her jug was filled with a juice of crushed berries. She figured that these were the leftovers from the feast the sailors had to celebrate their nearing to land…

            Hyrule…

            Darkstar sighed despairingly, knowing that she had a day, if she was lucky, before she would find herself in the hands of the evil king and locked up in the land she so passionately despised.

            Unexpectedly, the ship hit something, sending Darkstar flying into the wall of her prison. The crates around her followed, and one that had been perilously placed at the top of the stack launched toward her. The wooden box stood no chance against the iron bars, and it shattered upon impact, sending splinters everywhere and leaving the contents rolling on the floor.

            Darkstar sat for a long while, fearing that someone would have heard the crash and come to investigate. After a while, she allowed herself to relax, but she waited a little longer just to be safe.

            Beyond the bars was a bottle, about half a hand in diameter, which gracefully diminished to a point at the top. It was stopped with a cork, and Darkstar could see a label of sorts but couldn’t quite make it out.

            She extended her fingers as far as she could and crept foreword until the shackles on her ankles were taut. Her fingers barely grazed the bars, and it was disheartening to see the cargo on the ground only a breath from her fingertips.

            She stretched her body to its very limits, feeling the burn in her arms and legs increase with every move forward, and was eventually rewarded with the feeling of cool glass against the very tip of her longest finger. She willed it to come to her as a child might coax a stray pet, and it seemed the waves finally heard her as the rocking of the ship sent the bottle rolling peacefully into her palm.

            Darkstar recoiled into the corner, her stolen prize in her hand. She stroked the sides, feeling runes and symbols foreign to her carved into the thick glass. Not able to make out the writing even with her sensitive eyes, she moved her fingers slowly across the glass time and time again, memorizing the feel of the symbols. It seemed that a single phrase was repeated over and over again.

            “Get the girl!” someone above-deck yelled, and instantly there was banging on the door. She quickly hid the bottle in the folds of her cloak as a kingman holding a large ring of keys entered.

            The door swung open and Darkstar was lifted roughly to her feet as a second soldier unlocked the chains on her legs. She glared hatefully at the men as they tied her hands together with a length of rope. One of the men held the end as one would hold a leash. “Not a sound out of you,” he growled.

            Darkstar shut her eyes and relied on the soldiers to guide her as she stepped above deck for the first time in an eternity. The harsh light came as a shock to her, even with her eyes closed, and made her stumble. She picked herself up when one of the men jabbed her harshly with the blunt end of his spear and proceeded with her hands over her eyes.

            “You do understand that she’s worth quite a sum, sir. You can understand my caution. On one hand, if we give her to the king, we’ll be living like emperors the rest of our lives. On the other, if she’s found dead and the king tracks her back to us…”

            “I can sympathize with your plight, but the girl is more trouble than she’s worth,” said a calm and assured voice. “I believe we understand this, at least. Take or leave my offer, I do not have all day.”

            Darkstar started at the familiarity of the voice.  “Nasir?” she asked quietly, still not uncovering her eyes.

            There was laughter from more than one man aboard. “Seems she hasn’t forgotten you after all.”

            “I would be surprised if she had.”

            For a while, she let this sink in. She heard footsteps approach her and the man holding her rope backed up a little. She could tell that Nasir was standing before her.

            “You…” she said softly. She took her hands off her eyes slowly, and to her relief, she could stand the sunlight. Right ahead of her was Nasir, looking at her intently and sorrowfully.

            For a while she appeared confused, but then her mood rapidly changed.

            She leapt at Nasir, letting out a feral cry. The sailor who held her rope leapt on her and tackled her to the ground. She struggled against the hands that held her fast to the deck, hissing threats to everyone in sight.

            Exasperated with his captive, the man who held her drew a knife and twirled it as if preparing to strike.

            “Don’t hurt her!” Nasir yelled as he ran toward her. “Leaver her be.”

            The sailor looked at him as if were insane. In a heavy seaman’s accent, he said, “What care ye?”

            Nasir stepped forward, his composure quickly regained, and gestured for the man to give him her rope. “…Ganondorf will be displeased if she has been harmed.”

            “What a stubborn one,” one of the heavily decorated soldiers remarked. “All that time a prisoner, and she still bites like a viper. King Ganondorf will beat the fight out of her, I assume.”

            Darkstar lay on the ground, no longer restrained but unwilling to get up. Her entire being quivered with anger, and the look in her eyes was strong enough to kill.

            The captain of the ship laughed. “This is quite a price you offer for so worthless a girl. I accept your offer. Take her to your ship, but one of my men will stay aboard to make sure your end of the bargain is upheld.”

            The man holding Darkstar’s leash stepped forward. “This is Caspian,” the captain said by way of introduction. “He will be the one to accompany you and the girl.”

            Nasir nodded. “Let us depart then.”

            Darkstar’s original anger had subsided a bit, but she still stared daggers at Nasir as she was taken aboard his ship.

            She was silent as she was led to the same cabin she had been in on her previous venture, when she had been a passenger headed for Calita. She was not surprised when Caspian stood by the door like a statue after he tied her rope to a nearby post.

            She curled into herself and slept.

 ~*~*~*~