It's a secret to everyone

Wind was maybe, possibly, just a little bit lost. It wasn’t his fault—Wild should have given better instructions. All these weird mushroom tree things looked the same, and he'd said the stable was just over the ridge but which ridge? They were everywhere. If the stars were out, Wind's navigation skills would put the rest of them to shame. Alas.

Wild also should have warned him about the local wildlife.

The four wolves circled closer, hungry yellow eyes fixed on Wind. He reached back slowly for the hilt of his sword.

Suddenly, a wolf lunged forward, teeth set to tear out his throat. He skipped backward and cried out as the ground gave way to thin air, sending him plunging downward. The fall was short. He landed on his feet, and something in his ankle crunched. He screamed and collapsed as white-hot pain shot up his leg. He curled up and clutched at it, eyes squeezed shut.

The agony gradually subsided enough for him to uncurl a little. He wiped tears from his face and looked up.

He sat at the bottom of a dark, narrow chasm. The opening above him featured protrusions like teeth, an impression not helped by the strange color of the cratered stone. It felt a bit like he had been swallowed by some leviathan. He shivered. At least it sounded like the wolves had finally given up the chase, their howls fading into the distance.

The hole he had fallen down was far above him, the ledge too high to reach if he jumped. His ankle throbbed, warning him that climbing out was probably not an option. He would need to wait for rescue. He sighed and leaned his head back against the rock behind him. This stinks. Literally, he thought, wrinkling his nose at the acrid scent. He looked around, frowning.

The pit was not as empty as he had first thought. A swirling mass of something clung to the wall and ceiling adjacent, glistening black shot through with glowing magenta. Particles emanated from it like burning embers. The sight sent a prickle of unease through him.

By its sickly pink illumination, he could see a pile of bleached bones, some unlucky animal that had fallen into the same trap. The pit was thankfully empty of monsters. Something boxy caught Wind's eye, and his heart leapt—a crate! There would be supplies inside, or perhaps even treasure. With a burst of energy, he stood, hand against the wall for balance, and hobbled toward it.

The crate was made of wooden planks. It was fairly large, almost up to his shoulders. He felt around the top and discovered that the lid was tightly sealed. No problem for an adventurer, though. He pulled out the Phantom Sword and wedged it into the gap, carefully applying leverage to the blade until it seemed likely to break. Disappointed, he stopped. Whoever had designed this crate had clearly never had to open one. Maybe he should just bomb it.

Wind's ankle was really hurting now. He sat down against the wall to catch his breath. His head hurt, probably from the fall, though he didn't remember hitting it. He was starting to feel a little dizzy as well. He took a slow breath in and let it out slowly. It didn't help much. In fact, the dizziness increased until he caught himself tipping to the side and threw out a hand to keep from faceplanting. He shook his head in a vain attempt to clear it. His eyes fell again on the weird glowing gunk.

It seemed almost alive. It swelled and shrank periodically, colors shifting hypnotically. Wind found himself mesmerized.

He was snapped out of his staring by the sharp sting of his cheek meeting the rough wall of the cave. He gasped, and this time the smell of rotten eggs made him gag. He coughed. His throat burned like he had been standing in the path of campfire smoke for too long. There was something in the air here, he suddenly realized, something that was making him feel sick. He looked around the enclosed space, taking in the single opening for fresh air far overhead. Maybe there was something poisonous on the surface close by, trickling down into the cave from above. Or maybe there was a vent in here and gases were seeping up through the ground. But his eye caught on glowy pink, and he knew the true source was neither of those.

Was it just his imagination, or was the goop closer than before?

Wind swallowed hard and tried to judge the distance up to the mouth of the chasm. He pulled out his grappling hook and clumsily made it to his feet, stumbling forward until he was directly below the hole. He carefully shifted his weight so he wouldn't overbalance. Then he swung the grappling hook in a circle, gathering momentum, and let it fly up over the edge and out of sight. He tugged on the rope until it caught, then tested it, pulling harder. It was stuck, but not firmly. Climbing it was risky. He chewed his lip indecisively.

He didn't want to stay here and wait for help. Needing to be rescued would only cement the thought in the other heroes' minds that he was young and helpless and couldn't look out for himself. It was also terribly boring in this pit. If he was honest with himself, though, mostly he just really needed to be far away from the glowing ooze, whatever it was.

It was definitely closer now.

Wind gave the rope one more yank and started hauling himself upward. It was hard. He hadn't had to do this in a while, and he wasn't exactly at his best right now, distracted by the pain in his ankle and increasingly lightheaded and nauseous. Still, he made good progress, until his unseen anchor shifted ominously. He had half a second to think oh shoot and then he was falling again. He hit the ground and blacked out.

He woke up to a sharp, pulsing ache in the back of his head and shoulders. His ankle was screaming at him. It took a moment for the pain in his hand to register. When it did, he hissed and brought it close, squinting at it through streaming eyes and seeing only black and magenta. He blinked uncomprehendingly. Then he gasped and frantically scrubbed his hand on his tunic. Get it off, get it off! The glowing ooze was sticky, though, and when he looked again, it clung on stubbornly, covering the back of his hand and wrapping around his pinky. The stuff burned fiercely. He whimpered, too dazed to care who heard.

He only tried to sit up once before concluding that that would not be happening. The attempt nearly made him pass out again. He lay where he had fallen and struggled to stay awake so he could call out if he heard the others. They would find him. He would really rather it was sooner than later, though.

He didn’t really notice the pain in his hand anymore. The goop continued to eat away at the skin like acid. His vision was thankfully too blurry to make out any gory details.

His breathing sounded a little funny to his own ears. His chest felt tight, like a wallmaster had grabbed him around the middle. He took in the deepest breath he could manage, trying to push back the dizziness. Instead, miasma filled his lungs. The world spun and slipped out of focus.

…

“—ind! Sailor, can you hear me?”

Someone was talking to him. Wind wanted to answer, but his slow, whistley breathing didn’t change. He wiggled his fingers experimentally—nothing. It was like he had been removed from command of his body and was now only watching from the brig. Mutiny.

Through half-lidded eyes, he watched the blurry figure of Warriors lean in. Warm fingers pressed against his neck, feeling for his sluggish pulse. The ooze burned, but it was also cold somehow, and the warmth of hylian touch was a welcome change.

Abruptly, Wind realized his arm was moving, rising up as if to stroke Warriors’s cheek. The captain went to grasp his hand and let out a shocked sound as it shot forward and closed around his throat instead.

Oily satisfaction curled in his gut as Warriors clawed at the hand around his windpipe. Wind shouldn’t have been strong enough to do damage, he wasn’t wearing his power bracelets, but Warriors was making an awful choking noise. Wind's fingers dug in harder, putting pressure on the blood vessels on either side of the captain's neck. Warriors's movements became desperate and uncoordinated. Wind panicked distantly as foreign hatred twisted his own face into a sneer.

A shout and the thump of boots on stone, and then someone else was helping to pry Wind’s fingers away. Warriors gasped in air and started coughing. The newcomer pinned Wind's arms to the ground and snarled, “Don’t move.” The voice sounded like Legend’s, though Wind had never heard him sound so furious and upset.

“Wars, talk to me. No, not with your voice, you idiot.” Pained wheezing and the sort of silence that usually meant signing. Legend’s hands tensed where they gripped his arms.

“You think this pink stuff—? Dang it, we’ve got to get him out of here. Do you think you can climb?”

More silence.

“No, you're right, we can’t move him like this. His head…Here, I'm sure I have a fairy in here.” Legend let go of his left hand, the one covered in evil ooze, to dig in his pouch. Wind’s fingers twitched without his permission. Before he could freak out about it, Warriors grabbed his arm.

“Found it,” Legend declared triumphantly. There was the pop of a cork and the chime of a fairy, and warmth tingled over Wind’s face before fading. The pain in his skull ebbed slightly, then came roaring back with a vengeance. He felt woozy and tired. The others’ voices were more distant than before.

“—not working? But why—”

A quiet chime, and a soft curse. “It’s too risky to move him, though. Wolfie should be back with the others soon…”

He lost the thread of conversation then. A heavy, suffocating presence curled around his mind and dragged him slowly downward, away from the light.

Legend’s ears pricked, and he cut off Warriors’s urgent signing to listen hard. Distant voices, too far to make out. He looked down at Wind’s pale, slack face, the blood spread like a halo around his head, and felt his remaining patience snap like a dry branch in winter. They needed backup now. He yanked his fire rod from his pouch, aimed for the hole in the ceiling, and shot a fireball high into the air. A shout, and the voices came closer.

“Help is coming,” he assured Wind pointlessly. The kid remained unresponsive, probably unconscious. His fingers twitched again. Legend swallowed hard and revised his assessment. Wind was definitely unconscious, but whatever was in his system was awake, merely biding its time.

“Hey, are you guys okay?” called Wild from above. Legend couldn't make out his expression with the light behind him, but he sounded worried.

“Wind is hurt,” Legend answered. “We’ll need help getting him up—” He yelped as something grabbed his tunic front and yanked him down hard, toward the puddle of malevolent sludge Wind had fallen near. Legend’s eyes widened, and he rolled, letting his momentum carry him through it and away. He scrambled back to his feet and gasped in surprised pain. He had angled himself so bare skin wouldn’t touch the strange substance, but the ooze had rapidly soaked through the fabric over his shoulder, and it burned. He resisted the urge to try wiping it off with his sleeve.

“Vet—” Warriors cut off in a painful-sounding cough. Legend looked over to see him wrestling to keep Wind down, one arm over the kid’s chest and one hand holding both his skinny wrists. Can’t even handle one concussed teenager. Some knight, he thought scathingly.

“I'm coming down!” called Wild. Ignoring the rope, he lowered himself to hang by his fingertips, then carefully dropped down the rest of the way. Time's and Four's silhouettes appeared over the hole in his place.

Wild came closer, pausing as he got a good look at their state. “Malice,” he murmured. “That’s not good. But there shouldn’t be any left—never mind.” He crouched down by Wind. “We need the Master Sword. I don't know where Sky is, though.”

“The Master Sword?” interrupted Legend, hope warring with anger. He reached back and drew the Tempered Sword, forged from the weakened Master Sword of his own era. It shone brightly in the darkness. Immediately, the creeping animosity evaporated from his mind, and a clarity he hadn’t realized he missed returned. He blinked rapidly. His shoulder tingled. The sludge on his tunic hissed as it burned away slowly like mist before the sun.

Wild gaped, then allowed, “That will work. Come here.”

Legend knelt cautiously beside them. Wind’s eyes were open. They fell on the Tempered Sword in Legend’s hands, and his face contorted in a vicious snarl that was out of place on the sailor. He fought harder to escape Warriors’s hold.

“Just touching it should be enough,” said Wild, sounding uncertain.

Legend lowered the flat of the blade to Wind's bare forearm, and the sailor screamed.

Legend flinched back. “Don’t stop,” rasped Warriors. He let out a grunt as a booted foot met his stomach, but he only adjusted his grip. Legend took a deep breath and tried again.

Wind howled in agony. He thrashed as dark smoke rose from the mire coating his hand and forearm. His chest jerked and shuddered, and black mist streamed from his mouth and nose. Legend held the Tempered Sword steady and bitterly wondered if Sky’s sword would have been faster and less painful.

It ended all at once. The last streak of black vanished into the glowing blade of Legend’s sword, and Wind fell limp, eyes closed. They all panted in the sudden silence, Warriors’s wheezing loud and obvious now. Wild gave him a concerned look.

“No,” croaked Warriors. “No, no, don’t do this to me, Sailor, no,” and Legend finally noticed Wind’s still chest. His own heart skipped a beat.

There was a tinkling chime, and a fairy darted out of Wind's bag, flying a looping path above him. Wind gasped in a breath and quickly started hyperventilating. Legend breathed again.

“Shhh shh, Wind, you’re okay, we’ve got you. Deep breaths, buddy,” coached Wild soothingly, running a hand up and down Wind’s arm. The Malice was gone, but it had left behind deep burns. They were no longer weeping, thanks to the fairy.

Wind sobbed and started crying in earnest. Warriors tenderly probed around the back of his skull, then scooped him up and held him to his chest. Wind clung to his tunic like a child.

“Everything alright?” asked Four timidly, and Legend abruptly realized he and Time had been listening to Wind’s screams and then the sudden silence with no explanation.

“Fine now,” Legend called up. “We’ll explain once we’re all on solid ground.” Four nodded slowly, clearly wanting to press but pragmatic enough to wait.

“Is he safe to move now, Wars?” Legend asked. Warriors pulled away from Wind enough to look him over. Wind bore the gentle prodding without protest, quietly admitting to some pain in his back and his ankle. Warriors signed for him to wiggle his toes and roll his foot, frowning as Wind tried.

“Probably broken,” Warriors concluded. “Should be alright if the boot stays on and we don’t jostle it. His head and spine are stable.”

Wild stepped forward to rig a harness for Wind, looping the rope around his legs and torso to distribute pressure. They helped Wind to stand, keeping weight off his broken ankle, then Wild called up, “Ready when you are!” Time and Four pulled. Wind clung to the rope as he rose slowly, and Wild climbed the wall alongside him, making sure the rope didn’t catch or spin. At the top, a hand appeared to pull Wind over the edge to safety. Wild followed.

Legend looked at Warriors, who was trying to subtly massage his bruised neck, and said firmly, “You're next. Don’t think I didn’t notice you got burned, too.” Warriors grimaced. He had brushed against the Malice on Wind’s hand while pinning his wrists.

They lowered the rope, and at Legend’s pointed look, Warriors stepped into the harness. He checked the knots and nodded. “He's ready,” called Legend. Warriors was pulled up and disappeared from view.

Left alone, Legend looked around the chasm. It was empty save for the pulsing Malice, a wooden crate, a grappling hook, and the darkening bloodstain where Wind had fallen. Legend bent down to gather up the grappling hook and tucked it into his bag. Wind had been missing for an hour before they started searching in earnest. How long did he sit here in the dark waiting for them before he became desperate enough to try climbing out? The air here was tainted; now that he knew what to look for, Legend could feel it dulling his mind and sapping his strength. He drew the sword again and gritted his teeth as cleansing fire swept over him, burning away the tendrils of darkness. Wind had suffered for every second.

The harness dropped down, and Legend sheathed his sword and stepped into the ropes. He adjusted the harness until it was snug, then gave it a quick tug and called up, “Ready!” His brothers pulled, and his feet left the ground as he ascended. Strong, gauntleted hands gripped his forearms and pulled him up over the ledge and into bright sunlight and fresh air.

Legend squinted and shaded his eyes. Time gave him a firm nod and a pat on his uninjured shoulder and let him go, moving back to where Wind slumped against a boulder with Four and Wild hovering nearby. The kid looked worse in daylight, pale and tired and shivering. He was holding a bottle of blue potion, and Wars looked like he was coaxing him to drink it. The captain’s scarf had been carefully arranged to hide the bruises left by a small hand.

A bark heralded the arrival of the others. Wolfie transformed midstep into Twilight, staggering up to them with wide eyes. “I'm so sorry, I came back as quick as I could, but these two ran afoul of a hinox and we couldn’t risk leading it to you. Is everyone alright?”

Hyrule and Sky looked roughed up, but no one was bleeding. Legend guessed they had run most of the way here. He sighed and eased up on his glaring. “We’re fine,” he said shortly. “Some injuries, but nothing we couldn't handle.”

Twilight’s gaze lingered on the charred fabric at Legend’s shoulder. Legend scowled and folded his arms to hide the rope burns from his own hasty descent. “If you want to help, catch Wars on his own and make him drink a red potion.”

Twilight's attention immediately turned to the captain, successfully diverted. Legend failed to feel bad about setting the Rancher on him. The fool should have taken care of himself.

Hyrule was not so easily distracted. He pulled Legend’s tunic down past his shoulder and hissed in sympathy, ignoring Legend’s attempts to bat him away. “This looks nasty, what did you do?”

Legend huffed loudly and replied, “There was some evil sludge down there, and I tripped into it. We all got a little burned. Sailor got the worst of it. I'll be fine.” He tugged his tunic back into place. Still, when Hyrule handed him a red potion, he didn't push it away.

When he had finished drinking, he looked back to the cluster of heroes around Wind. The sailor was fast asleep, head resting in Sky’s lap with Wild’s cloak draped over him like a blanket. Someone had removed his boot and wrapped his injured ankle. Bandages covered his left hand where it poked out from under the cloak. He seemed to be breathing easier now.

Wild had taken the lead in explaining the situation, which Legend was grateful for. "I've always steered clear of Malice, it makes me feel weird in a memory kind of way, but I've heard other people complain of feeling ill after being around it for too long. Animals instinctively avoid it. I saw a deer slip and fall into a Malice pool, once, and it was—" he shuddered "—not pretty. It's like tar, it burns and it's really sticky, almost impossible to clean off. It's no match for the Master Sword, thank Hylia."

Warriors cleared his throat and said quietly, "It didn't just make Wind sick, though. It was like he was possessed."

Wild nodded solemnly. "I had no idea it could do that to hylians. I'm sorry I didn't warn you all."

Legend frowned at his wording. "To hylians? You've seen it possess something else?"

Wild fidgeted and rubbed at his forearms, where Legend knew burn scars lay beneath his arm wraps. "Yes," he admitted. "A dragon spirit, Naydra. And the guardians. Malice is the essence of the Calamity, and it corrupts everything it touches, including people, apparently.” He looked understandably distressed at the idea.

“Poor Wind,” said Sky quietly from his place as the sailor’s pillow. “Of all the pits to fall into…” There were nods and murmurs of agreement all around.

Warriors still sounded a little hoarse as he asked, “Is there any way to get rid of it? It seems irresponsible to leave it for someone else to stumble on.”

"Zelda could," Wild said, "but I imagine she's on the other side of Hyrule, right now. Does anyone have a divine light bomb handy?"

Wild's deprecating little smile suggested he was joking, but Time pulled out a handful of gold-tipped arrows that shone with an inner glow. His mouth curved up in a hint of a smirk as he asked, "Will these do?" Wild's eyes glinted with eager interest. Four dug in his own bag and withdrew a bow decorated with gold trim. Legend left them to it.

Warriors was crouching down by Wind and Sky, who looked close to dozing off as well, head back and eyes shut. Legend came to stand next to him. As he watched, the captain smoothed a hand over Wind's hair.

"He'll be fine, you know."

Warriors must not have noticed him there, because he jumped, startled. He tucked away the knife he'd pulled and blew out a breath, obviously still on edge. "Y-yeah. I know."

"He's exhausted," Legend continued. "That stuff drains your energy. The sailor is tough, though, give him a day and he'll be right back to giving you grey hairs."

Warriors smiled like he knew what Legend was up to, which was stupid because Legend didn't know what Legend was up to. He should stop talking already. Frustrated, he turned on his heel to walk away.

"Thank you, Vet," Warriors said softly. "For saving my life and his."