#acetier

Link draws his bow again, forgoing the bomb arrows Revali always favoured; instead, he nocks one of Robbie's Ancient Arrows.

Have to end this quickly.

His arrow strikes true, this time, and then he's left drifting in an eerie, open sky, alone.

It's six hours before the tug of Revali's power anchors in his chest again. Revali's Gale is now ready, he thinks, mimicking the cadence of the words that always accompany that sensation -- but Revali's words don't come.

--

The Koroks' puzzles range from amusing to aggravating.

On the least annoying end of the scale: chasing lights, finding acorns, following flowers (usually).

A bit more annoying, depending on circumstance: following flowers (sometimes), rock puzzles, metal blocks, clockflower rings.

Far more of a pain than they're worth: acorn balloons.

Link hates those acorn balloons with a passion. They jerk around erratically. They duck in and out of the trees so that he can't track them. They move at such random speeds. They disappear within ten seconds of him leaving the treestump pedestal that sends the signal to spawn them.

And so often, he's running low on arrows and doesn't have enough to spare on Korok games.

He's staring down yet another cluster of circling acorn balloons when a thought occurs to him: What if...

He crouches low on the pedestal. Revali, he thinks. It's not necessary to literally call for the Champions—otherwise Mipha would never reach him in time—but with Revali, in particular, it has quickly become a habit.

It takes seven seconds to reach the zenith of Revali's Gale. He's counted it before.

It would certainly take more than three seconds to pick off those balloons, for almost anyone else.

He reaches for his bow, a three-shot device of the forest's make, and feels time start to crawl: slower, slower, slower.

He nocks three arrows, catches two balloons but misses the third. Draws again, and catches his fall with the paraglider just in time; below, the final balloon bursts.

"Cheater," Revali says snidely as the column of his Gale subsides; he's gone before Link can retort.

Honestly. Just because Revali could have done it in a single shot...

--

Revali takes his front-row vantage point of Link's archery — oh, forgive him, of Link's pale imitation of aerial archery — very seriously. Link can almost see the mark of a teacher in him. He wonders what Revali would have been like as an instructor.

"Shoulders," he barks sometimes, when Link's back holds more tension than his bowstring.

"Keep your eyes dead ahead," he advises, other times, when Link is tempted to use precious seconds to scan the field for further enemies; "one thing at a time."

"Remember to aim for where your target will be, not where it is now," he warns whenever the slowing of time reaches its limits, and Link is left with seconds to spare before his strength runs out.

"Don't miss," he says, as Link prepares to take aim at the thing that struck down Urbosa—and this time his words have the sound of camaraderie, no scorn to be found in them at all.

"I know," Link replies, reaching for Revali's Great Eagle Bow. He nocks three arrows to the string and obliterates Thunderblight Ganon in a hail of explosions that would make even Revali proud.

--

"You know, I had to succeed at that trial without supernatural means at my disposal."

Link hides a grin in the fur ruff of his Snowquill: Revali's words have the ring of a familiar refrain, rendered less irritating with repetition.

"I do hope you appreciate that," Revali continues, needling. Link tries to imagine the expression he would be wearing, how he might gesture emphatically: swooping drama, theatrical in motion, every inch of his persona polished and practiced.

Every facet of doubt buffed away, hidden behind that carefully constructed confidence.

"How long did it take you?"

Revali makes a sound of affront and this reaction, this one Link can picture: his head tilting up, his feathers puffing out in displeasure.

"Four," he says shortly, and Link leans back to stare at the shape of Vah Medoh's head overhead, no longer trying to disguise his grin.

"Four hours?" he asks, keeping his tone light and just this side of innocent. "Four days?"

"Four attempts," Revali snaps, and Link should have known, really. Revali always was exactly as good as he claimed. If only he could have met Ganon's Blight when in optimal condition... Link doubts Windblight could have bested Champion Revali, if the battle hadn't been stacked in its favour.

The thought is bitter, and not something Link should dwell on. The last thing Revali would want is Link's sympathy. So he pushes it aside,

"You don't have to rub it in," says Link, but he's smiling as he says it. While Revali splutters in protest, Link smiles, and huffs out a laugh, and desperately tries not to linger on just how unfair it is that the Champions, that Revali, should have fallen when he was granted this second chance.

All he can do is make the most of it, and avenge them.

--

"Dead ahead."

Revali's voice is all around Link, carried in the column of his Gale. Link can't look at him, can't afford to take his eyes off the rampaging incarnation of Malice below, and Revali must know that.

He wouldn't speak at such a crucial moment, otherwise.

His next words come so close to Link's ear that, if Revali lived, his breath would surely be warm against the shell of it. Instead Link feels only the cold grip of Gale, the only touch Revali had ever bestowed on him.

"Don't miss," Revali tells him.

It sounds like affection.

It sounds like faith.

It sounds like goodbye.

"Got it," Link says—or tries to, but the winds snatch his voice away.

At least that means Revali probably heard him. Cold comfort. Comfort all the same.

He shoots. Dead ahead.