The Awakening of the First Wing before the Events of the Age of Imprisonment and Tears of the Kingdom.
Deep within a lightless grotto near the Akkala Span, a leathery, iridescent membrane twitched. For centuries, the Aerocuda had been nothing more than a dehydrated husk, a relic of a malice-fueled age long forgotten. But as Sansonâs heavy boots caused a micro-tremor in the cavern floor, a single, glowing yellow eye snapped open.
The creatureâs neck elongated with a sickening series of pops. It wasn't just a beast; it was a precursorâa prototype of the flying terrors that would one day swarm the skies of Hyrule. It uncurled its wings, the sound resembling wet parchment being torn.
"Just a little further," Sanson whispered to himself, wiping soot from his brow. "Find the rock, get the pay, go home to a nice vat of lava. Simple."
Then came the sound: a high-pitched, warbling shriek that vibrated the very calcium in Sansonâs rocky hide. The Aerocuda didn't just scream; it announced its return to the world of the living.
The pursuit was a chaotic blur of red dust and screeching winds. Sanson barreled down the grassy slopes of Akkala, his momentum carrying him perilously close to the cliffs. Behind him, the Aerocuda beat its wings with unnatural speed, its prehistoric lungs drawing in the fresh air of a new age as it nipped at Sansonâs heels.
"Iâm too young to be bird food!" Sanson hollered as he bounced off a stray boulder. "I haven't even finished my rock-roast collection!"
As he neared the construction site of what would become a major waypoint, Sanson lost his footing. He uncurled mid-air, flailing wildly, and landed face-first in the dirt right at the feet of a much larger, sturdier Goron who was busy hoisting a massive timber beam.
Greyson looked down, blinking slowly. "Sanson? You're supposed to be scouting. Why are you hugging the mud?"
"Up! Look up, brother!" Sanson pointed a trembling finger.
The Aerocuda pulled out of its dive, hovering just twenty feet above them. It let out another piercing cry, circling like a vulture that had found a particularly stubborn meal.
The Savior and the Slogan
Greyson didn't flinch. He dropped the timber beam with a thud that shook the earth. "Thatâs a big bat," Greyson grunted. "But it's in the way of progress."
Greyson reached into his belt and pulled out a massive iron sledgehammer. As the Aerocuda lunged for Sansonâs head, Greyson swung with the force of a falling star. The impact was visceralâthe hammer caught the creature square in the chest, sending a shockwave of dust into the air.
The Aerocuda let out a final, pathetic wheeze before being launched backward, disappearing over the cliffs of the Akkala Sea. For a moment, there was silence. The "extinction" of the species seemed temporary, but for now, the skies were clear.
"Is it... is it gone?" Sanson asked, peeking through his fingers.
"Gone," Greyson confirmed, wiping his brow. "You look like youâve seen a Ghost Gleeok, Sanson. You need a job that keeps you on the ground. Somewhere with walls."
At that moment, a man with a truly monumental haircut stepped out from behind a half-finished scaffold. Hudson, President of Hudson Construction, had been watching the entire ordeal with an analytical eye.
"Impressive strength," Hudson said, his voice a steady baritone. "And you, the little one. You have... endurance. Iâm looking for workers for my new project. Everything we build must be sturdy. Everything must be 'Son'."
Sanson, still dizzy and desperate to please anyone who could keep him away from flying monsters, scrambled to his feet. "Oh, I'll work! I'll do anything! If the job is to build, then consider it... Son and Done!"
The silence that followed was heavy. Greyson winced. Hudson simply stared, his mustache twitching.
"Son and Done?" Hudson repeated slowly. "Thatâs... catchy. Highly efficient. It fits the brand."
"Wait, I didn't meanâ" Sanson started, but Hudson was already handing them both yellow hardhats.
"Welcome to the team," Hudson said, pointing toward the foundation of a new home. "From this day forward, we build for every-son. And since you coined the phrase, Sanson, you start with the heavy lifting. Get to work."
Sanson looked at the heavy stones, then at the empty sky where the Aerocuda had been. He sighed, a small puff of steam escaping his nose. "Well... at least rocks don't have wings."
The prehistoric terror was battered, its wings tattered from Greysonâs hammer blow, but its malice remained intact. Retreating from the construction site, the Aerocuda glided on ragged membranes, seeking the shadows beneath the massive stone span of the Akkala Bridge.
It was a creature out of time, nursing a broken chest plate and a wounded ego.
Below the bridge, a lone traveler sat by a small cooking pot. He wore the simple robes of a Hylian merchant, but his posture was too rigid, his eyes darting toward the road with a predatory stillness. He was a Yiga Footsoldier, waiting for a hero who would never come this way.
The Aerocuda didn't care about his allegiance. It only saw a silhouette in the dim light.
With a raspy, guttural shriek that echoed off the damp stone pillars, the beast dropped from the rafters. The traveler looked up, his hand reaching for a hidden sickle, but he was too slow. The Aerocudaâs weight slammed into him, its talons finding the gaps in his armor. There was no "poof" of red paperâjust the cold reality of a prehistoric predator reclaiming its territory.
The beast let out a triumphant warble, its yellow eye glowing with a feverish light.
A Chain Reaction of Chaos
Driven by a mix of adrenaline and dying desperation, the Aerocuda didn't stop to feast. It took to the air again, soaring low over the tall autumn grass of the Akkala Highlands. It spotted another traveler standing near a signpostâanother "civilian" offering bananas to passersby.
The Aerocuda lunged again, a blur of leathery skin and screeching fury. It struck the second Yiga disguised as a traveler, knocking him backward into a cluster of rocks.
"Master Kohga... save..." the soldier gasped before the Aerocudaâs final, frantic thrashing silenced him.
However, the commotionâthe screeching, the clatter of weapons, and the scent of the scuffleâcarried on the wind. From the nearby marshes, a trio of Lizalfos perked up. Their flicking tongues tasted the air, and their yellow eyes locked onto the flailing creature.
They hissed in unison, sensing a rival predator encroaching on their hunting grounds. They began to encircle the bridge, their camouflaged skin blending into the gray stone.
The Aerocuda tried to rise. It flapped its wings, but the internal damage from Greysonâs hammer had finally caught up to it. Each beat of its wings sprayed dark, corrupted fluid onto the grass. The screech it let out was no longer a threat; it was a plea.
The Lizalfos drew closer, their bone-clubs raised, but they stopped just short.
The Aerocudaâs glow began to dim. Its long, serpent-like neck draped across the cold earth. It had survived the Great Plateauâs isolation and the wrath of a Goron, but its ancient heart couldn't sustain the frenzy of the modern world. With one final, shuddering breath, the creatureâs eye clouded over.
The first of its kind had returned only to become a cautionary tale whispered in the winds of Akkala. The Lizalfos hissed in disappointment, poking at the remains with their spears, realizing the "great sky-terror" was now nothing more than a heap of leathery hide and broken dreams.
However, following the death of Queen Sonia and the birth of Demon King, as blood moon rises, Lizalfos' horns become bladed, the same Aerocuda awakening and used as a watcher to surrounding the stronghold as Lizalfos claimed it, however rather than him alone, more Aerocudas along with monsters unleashed by Demon King's secret stone cause Zonai, Sages and Zelda to stop the war in age of Imprisonment during the game's cutscenes.
prguitarman
romaincrisis
dededos
vaporwave
snowghoul
kaledo-art
2087
discoholicmusic
jacobvanloon