#gloomstruck

At that, the Heroes all stopped and stared at her, various expressions of confusion, shock, and disdain on their faces. “Then why send him away?!” The piercing violet gaze of the Hero of Legends might have caused any other woman to shrink back, but Zelda didn’t win a war by being weak or indecisive.

She met his stare unflinchingly. “It is Wisdom,” she began, “that he spend time in the shadows to find his light.” She thought of the living shadow she sensed beneath him, the pulsing darkness warring with his natural tendencies. “Only then can he be whole and healed.”

Confused murmuring met her words, but she rolled over top of them. “Besides, he will not need long. We will retrieve him before the sun rises. I suggest you all rest until then.”

-----

Four recoiled from the twin red orbs under his feet, groaning when the movement jostled his aching shoulders. “Who’s there?” he asked cautiously.

“Are they gone?” A voice, familiar, so like his own but just a bit off, echoed in an eerie whisper from the cell walls.

Four's thoughts and worries fizzled into static as the whisper died. Only one remained.

How many years has it been since I’ve heard that voice?

“Shadow?” he croaked, disbelieving. A chill of anticipation rippled across his skin.

The red eyes rose from the ground; the shadows coalesced into a silhouette that mirrored his own, down to the faintly pulsing red veins spidering across its skin. “Oh, spirits of darkness, Link!” the figure said, fretting. “This is all my fault, I’m so sorry!”

“Shadow!” Four gasped, tears beading in his eyes. “I can’t believe it, you…you’re alive! You’re here! How are you here?! Why do you–”

Warm, living, real fingers pressed against his lips, stemming the flow of words. “I’m alive,” Shadow said with a small smile. It quickly fell. “I’m just not well. Neither are you.” Shadow dug his hands into his hair – covering the slash of a white headband Four could make out in the gloom – and started shaking his head. “I messed up, I’m so stupid, I was weak and I’ve corrupted you and now you’re stuck here and it’s all my fault!”

“Hey, hey no,” Four soothed, wishing he could wrap his friend up in a hug. “It’s not your fault, you didn’t know better I’m sure–”

Shadow chuckled wetly and looked away. “You don’t even know what I’ve done.”

Four twisted in his chains, tilting his head until he caught Shadow’s eye. “Then fill me in?” he asked gently, earnestly. With Shadow here, it was easy to forget the dark presence in his body, mind, and blood.

Shadow studied him for a moment, then closed his eyes and sighed. Slowly, he began his tale, of waking up weak, the false memories the gloom planted, his hunt for power, the burning light and the doubts it sowed, his murderous rampage through hordes of monsters.

Hours must have passed by the time Shadow told of feeling the Chain's presence for the first time, how he’d followed them through the depths and defied the gloom's compulsions.

“That was you,” Four murmured, wonder coloring his tone. “When you first saw us, I felt something, deep in my soul, like I could be whole again. Then, when you jumped into my shadow in the tree, I felt it even stronger.”

“Yeah,” Shadow said. “Despite my confusion, you always felt like home. It’s why I followed you through the dark gate.

“But then I let go of the power I held, and it corrupted you. I’ve done almost nothing but try to reel it back into me since we left the portal.” His voice grew wobbly. “It…haunts me, the lies the gloom planted, how much I loved them…And then you attacked the Princess because I was weak; I hate that MY actions led you here, I…” he broke off, sobbing.

Weak, sniveling traitor, the malice sneered; Four shook his head to dislodge the intrusive thought, stretching up onto his tiptoes to ease some pressure from his shoulders and wrists. For the dozenth time, he wished he could embrace Shadow, assure him that all would be okay. Guess it was time to find a new way to convince him.

“Shadow,” he called. “Look at me. Please.”

Shadow sniffled but did as he asked. With eyes now adjusted to the darkness of the cell, Four saw the grief and contrition written plainly across his friend's features. No trace of the evil, power-hungry pawn remained.

“Shadow, you have been so brave, so heroic, trying to take all this on yourself. I’m proud of you.”

Shadow blushed, then stammered, “W-what? Link, I…” He took a deep breath then let it out in a whoosh. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Four smiled at him, adding, “You’re also an idiot.”

Shadow’s eyes went wide and his jaw fell open, but no sound escaped.

“You should know by now that we’re always strongest together.” Suddenly, Artemis' words made sense. “So let me help you,” he concluded, tilting his head toward Shadow. “Darkness,” he nodded back to himself, “and Light, together, can collect and contain this malice long enough for Artemis to cleanse it, I’m certain.”

Shadow didn’t know how long he spent wandering amidst the gloom, only that he left a trail of dull black behind him as he absorbed more and more of that delicious power. He kept diligent distance between himself and any other monsters – he’d meet them on his own terms.

Once the gloom he’d assimilated healed his wounds, he began practicing with the magic it gave him, unwilling to be caught unprepared again. He sent shadowy tendrils flicking out in all directions, focusing on making them as sharp and strong as swords, then morphing them so they were blunt and devastating like the hammers he’d had to face.

One of these tendrils struck a tree, startling a swarm of small, frog-like creatures from behind it. They ran, yipping and barking, a short distance away before they turned and snarled at him.

They were…kinda cute; the noise they made was not. Shadow sent out his magic as a dozen spears, killing each baby monster before it could charge at him. Their dying squeals echoed through the power he held, ringing like music and whetting the desire to rend, to destroy.

And so he went. He traveled through a few more lengths of gloom, until the power and malice were practically bursting from him, practicing all the while. By the time he made it back to the scene of his great defeat, he’d honed the power into a razor’s edge, intimately familiar and supremely confident he could finally hold his own.

Time to begin the hunt.

He swept through the camp, killing each monster that opposed him and absorbing their life force. He left their swords, spears, and hammers where they lay, content with the magic he could shape to his every whim. He checked inside the chest they were guarding, but found only a flower that glowed like the sun. He left it lying in the dirt.

He walked on, taking out two more camps before he discovered – quite by accident – that he could shadow-travel between pockets of gloom.

He had stepped into a slightly deeper patch that pooled at the bottom of a slope when his foot slipped into intangibility, sending him plunging face first towards the ground. He yelped and covered his head with his arms, squeezing his eyes shut.

The impact he expected never came. Instead, the cool liquid closed over his head and sent his consciousness careening through space. He emerged someplace where several of the monsters were shrouded in ice, although the temperature of the air hadn’t changed.

A piggy lookout with a blue pelt and forked horns spotted him immediately, sounding an alarm.

"Bring it on!” he challenged, snapping a dark tendril at the bowbeast to silence its horn.

An icy bat and silver lizard charged him first, but an effortless dodge and swipe of his shadowy blade dispatched both within moments.

Shadow cackled, turning to face the next challengers. A pair of the bauble-horned silver pigs approached, but these two looked different. These two had baskets on their backs and some sort of armor covering their entire bodies. No matter how he slashed with his blade, the armor blocked them from all damage.

Distracted by the pair as he tried to figure out a blade that would get them out of his way, Shadow forgot about the two ice monsters clinging to the rock walls of the camp. They shot streams of icy balls at him, catching him off guard and freezing him in place.

Cold became his every thought. He struggled to free himself, to do so much as breathe, but was helpless as the two pig monsters sheathed their weapons and pushed his frozen body to the edge of a cliff. With malicious grunts and snorts, they pushed him over.

Falling took forever. Shadow battered at the ice with his magic, finally freeing himself as he hit the ground and rolled several feet.

Instantly, burning replaced the cold. Shadow gasped as he took stock of where he’d landed. Bright, divine light shone all around him, unraveling the tapestry of power he’d woven for himself. His skin tightened as it burned in the all-encompassing radiation, worse than any sunlight he could remember.

The light kept pulling the gloom from his body, mutating and poisoning the memories he’d received from it.

Instead of Zelda's pity, he saw her confidently telling him he was a hero.

“You are one of the ‘Links,’” she said warmly. “You are actually a hero yourself.”

Instead of staring down the tips of the Four Sword at four angry copies of Link, he lay in a pile of shattered glass as they hovered over him in concern.

“Shadow!” the purple Link – Vio – cried, uncharacteristically emotional. “Why would you do that?! I thought you-, hang in there, I-”

Shadow screamed as he weakly dragged himself through sand and grass, scared of the light and desperate to escape the burning agony it brought to his body and mind. Even after its influence faded behind him he crawled on, moaning, until he sensed gloom nearby. He collapsed into it and sobbed, choking as it prodded at the holes in his power.

What was true? Was he a hero, or a villain? He was irrefutably a creature of darkness, but could he live in the light?

Who was Shadow Link, really?

Beneath him, the gloom hissed, pulsing faster as it seamlessly patched the holes the light had left behind. A shroud of darkness flicked into place across his mind, drowning out the questions, leaving only vicious anger.

He emerged a new creature. Malice fairly sparked from his fingertips; hatred and anger turned his eyes a brilliant, blazing red.

Between one blink and the next, he’d traveled through the shadows back to the camp at the cliff’s peak. He formed his magic into a massive mallet and swung, obliterating the armored and ice creatures alike.

Nothing was safe after that.

He defeated pig monsters and lizards; tall, lanky creatures with snouts and enormously fat pigs with bugles; huge, walking stone piles and giant versions of the babies he’d first killed.

He took out winged creatures large and small; monsters that spat rocks or other elementally charged projectiles and strange, lumbering mummies, some of which spat acid – those were his favorite.

He took great pleasure tearing the cuboid automatons and any stal monsters that appeared apart piece by piece until there was nothing left.

The sleeping, one-eyed giants and rampaging beast-men offered some resistance, but ultimately they fell to his might just the same.

He barely paused to think about the banana-loving, white-masked weirdos he kept finding throughout the land. He would have left them alone, honestly, but they had the only edible food, so they had to be vanquished as well.

He even found a few arenas, each containing three-headed dragons, molten spiders, flying centipedes, giant moths, or dirty fish blobs. Those took much more effort and ingenuity.

He’d just defeated his third giant moth when he felt…something…shiver through the air and vibrate amidst his very core.

People – non-banana-weirdos people – had just entered the wasteland, and they were close.

Cautious and intrigued, he made his way to where he could sense their light, their goodness, like a blight in the beautiful darkness. He caught up to them as they spilled out onto a plain near his resurrection site.

Nine men or boys, of varying ages and sizes. All armed to the teeth with projectiles and short-range weapons. A low, involuntary growl slipped between his teeth as he saw his doppelganger among the men. “That’s why they all reek of light and goodness,” he snarled quietly, “They must be ‘Heroes.’”

Three of them turned towards him suddenly; he dropped into the gloom they’d just crossed, hiding but not traveling. He didn’t want them to know he was there, not yet.

Not until he decided what he’d do with them.

Voices filtered down to him as he hid. He let just his eyes manifest to see which of the heroes was talking.

 “What is it?” Red-shirt demanded.

“I thought I felt something,” Link whispered.

“Heard something,” Wolf Pelt added.

“We’re being monitored,” Tattoos intoned.

Well, that won’t do. Their senses were sharper than he thought. Shadow let himself travel to some gloom close to the camp they were headed for, the first one he’d decimated, and settled in to wait.

He watched them approach, watched Scarface climb up and over the rocks. He laughed to himself as the rest tiptoed around the camp, talking quietly to each other, but cut it off abruptly as three different heroes – Red-shirt, Scarf, and Greenie – mounted the rock and looked around.

Cursing, he melted into the gloom and left, hunting for more monsters to kill.

Some hours later, a braided thread of panic, pain and fear reached around his heart and mind and tugged. A weak, insignificant spark in the back of his head responded, pulling him through the gloom before he could figure out what had happened.

He emerged in a narrow streak of gloom at the base of a cliff, behind some tall, rocky pillars. Across a gap, he saw Tattoos holding his doppelganger on top of another pillar. Link looked pale as death, lips blue and shaking like a leaf. An arrow had pierced his lower leg, staining the surrounding tights a deep maroon.

The weak, insignificant spark in his mind nearly wept at the sight. Shadow ignored it.

Something on the other side of the rocks shattered, then sinister laughter echoed off the cliff face.

“Cub!” someone above him shouted. A dread chill shuddered across his soul; he retreated into the gloom as Scarface sprinted past, scrambling up the cliff.

Shadow stared at Scarface, perplexed at how he could possibly stay up there, but was distracted as an empty, malicious presence writhed over and through the gloom he hid in.

It felt like Ganon. Shadow retreated further into the gloom, making himself as unobtrusive as possible, ready to flee at a moment’s notice.

Another hero yelled something, but Shadow was too deep to make out the words. Finally, the Ganon-presence withered away, and he breathed a silent sigh of relief.

He might be a menace and a monster, but that thing was infinitely worse.

Shadow surfaced slowly, curiosity at what the heroes were up to driving him forward.

He peered around the closest rocky pillar, watching as Red-shirt fed Greenie something, Scarface sat with the Kid, and Scarf bandaged Link's leg. He couldn’t see Tattoos, Wolf Pelt, or Cape.

When Link got up and walked to where the Kid and Scarface sat, Shadow flickered into his place under his doppelganger. That niggling, weak part in the back of his mind nearly purred in satisfaction, handily evading the malice that tried to drown it.

He listened as they discussed the existence of “gloom spawn” and their rate of appearance, the gloom he'd assimilated wriggling with unbridled pleasure at the fear in their voices.

Disturbed, he shadow-traveled to a place far from the heroes.

Who was he, really?

The malice burned in his veins, but no matter how hard it tried, it could not contain that small part in the back of his head that demanded to be noticed with more and more urgency.

Shadow spent hours traveling through the darkness, alternatingly pulled towards destruction and concern. Every time he popped up near the heroes, one would turn, hand on a weapon, and stare in his direction. Rather than be seen and known, he’d let the malice pull him towards more monsters, destroying their camps as much for the thrill of destruction as for the growing light in the back of his mind.

Who was Shadow Link, really?

When the heroes appeared to be stopping for a time, Shadow flew over their location, resting on a large arch of bone or stone, and stared across the camp, conflicted.

The hatred and anger he’d felt after that horrid divine light still pulsed throughout his body, darkening his thoughts and writhing through his being. But the holes that same divine light had exposed were growing, fighting back, shedding light gently but firmly across the malice.

It was tearing him apart. Who was he??

Back and forth he went, while the heroes slept, traveling through the gloom, destroying monsters, keeping an eye on their camp, his thoughts a whirlwind.

Villain.

Hero.

Darkness.

Light.

Malice.

Peace.

Suffering.

Hope.

Shadow.

Link.

Finally exhausted, Shadow settled at the edge of a wide mass of gloom he found on the open plain near the heroes' camp; half in, half out, he begged for numbness, for rest, for relief.

Oblivion came, and he welcomed it with open arms.

Some time later, the low hum of voices woke him. Sound traveled far, he’d discovered, but even still he secreted himself among the shadows at the edge of the gloom, hiding, waiting, and watching.

The heroes, loosely led by Scarface, passed within feet of his hiding spot, but no one noticed. He smirked, pleased.

He was just about to leave when something shrieked; the gloom surrounding him suddenly rippled as the Ganon-presence manifested right in the heroes' path.

Five writhing hands emerged from the gloom, preparing to strike down the heroes, ready to consume everything in their path.

The malice they contained pulled on his soul, constraining him to act, to destroy.

Link’s light and goodness pulled on his being, urging him to rest, to be whole.

Shadow’s heart hammered in his ribs, blood rushing loudly in his ears. He clutched his head and squeezed his eyes closed, unable to think straight through the conflicting messages.

WHO WAS SHADOW LINK?

The heroes scattered back the way they’d come.

Shadow joined them.

Invisible and intangible, Shadow darted past Scarface standing alone against the gloom spawn, past Wolf Pelt and Cape, through the cluster that was Tattoos, Scarf, Greenie, and the Kid, until he found his place in Link's shadow, right as he took an item from Red-shirt and rocketed halfway up a tree.

He did his best to ignore the siren call of the gloom behind him. It festered in his blood and surged through his magic; it planted thoughts, images, and ideas in his head, like just how easy it would be to materialize and knock Link from the tree to crash to the earth below. With luck, he’d take more of the heroes down with him.

Shadow doggedly shook his head, clinging tighter to Link's magical core. He curled up tight and pressed close to the space between Link and the tree – Link's violet eyes flickered his way briefly – trying to shut down all his senses and just exist.

He heard shouting, and screeching, then finally blessed silence. Weary beyond anything he could remember, Shadow released a shuddering sigh and lost consciousness.

Light at the edge of his being roused Shadow from sleep to alertness in a heartbeat. It held the same divine signature as the stuff that had burned him before; even proximity to the light was fraying the power he held.

Despite the questions over his identity that plagued him, Shadow knew he didn’t want to lose the power he’d gained. He dove from Link's shadow into a tiny patch of gloom, just far enough away from the light that it couldn’t affect him.

He watched the heroes sprint towards the light, confused for a single moment. He understood why when another gloom spawn erupted where they’d just been standing.

He held his breath, hoping it wouldn’t notice him.

Its ravening form pursued the heroes until, as if slamming into a barrier, it stopped amidst the trees. It writhed and shrieked, but the divine light held it at bay. Finally, with a vicious hiss, it faded away, and Shadow could breathe again.

He stayed in the small bit of gloom, watching as most of the heroes fell asleep under the root-like structure and Scarface started a fire, cooking something that made his mouth water. He rose in idle curiosity as Scarface climbed the outside of the root, looked around, and glided back down.

A tug in the pit of his stomach startled him a step closer to the heroes. He stared in wonder as a Dark gate – in defiance of all that should have been otherwise – spiraled into existence at the far edge of the bright clearing.

The heroes rose, packed up, and started walking through the portal, but Shadow remained frozen in place.

Should he go? He had power here.

But power wasn’t enough now. He’d proved it by denying the gloom's compulsion and following Link.

Link would know who he truly was.

Link was disappearing through the portal!

Slowly, he released his stranglehold on the tapestry of power he’d woven, allowing the light to shine through and the intoxicating tendrils of power to dissipate. Within Link's shadow, he found peace, and belonging, and hope.

He still wasn’t ready to be seen or known by the other heroes, though. So, he stayed hidden, even through the jealousy of Link eating something that wasn’t bananas.

Suddenly, Link put his head in his hands and muttered, “Green? Blue? Red? Vio?” His eyes remained tightly shut, as if he were searching internally for something.

Were they still around? He hadn’t seen any evidence that they were, but after breaking the Dark Mirror and sacrificing himself for Link his own memories just…stopped. He tried to peek at Link's memories, but couldn’t make heads nor tails of them, with how fast they flickered past.

Link's head lifted, and Shadow followed his gaze. Wolf-pelt was staring at them, discerning and predatory; Shadow quailed as deep blue eyes flicked briefly toward his hiding place.

They talked, Link ate, and Shadow did his absolute best to stay hidden, silent, invisible. He almost broke from cover when Link rolled up his leggings at Scarf's request.

How could Link have the same patchwork gloom pattern as the monsters Shadow had killed?! There wasn’t any gloom around to corrupt–

Oh. Oh no. Horror raced, hot and fast, through Shadow's being. He’d corrupted Link, hadn’t he? When he let go of the gloom's power, it hadn’t dissipated like he’d thought. It had latched onto the closest living thing, and that was Link.

What have I done? Shadow trembled as Link clutched his head in his hands again. This time, his eyes were open, and the bright vermillion was a dead ringer for Shadow's own. He glimpsed more of the gloom corruption on his hands and forehead.

All the places he had direct contact with me. Shadow’s non-corporeal throat tightened against frightening guilt; as the other heroes crowded closer he had to repress the urge to flee, sure that he would be discovered, found out, torn apart for corrupting a Hero of Courage.

Shadow rushed through Link's being as his counterpart discovered the gloom on his fingers and forehead. Desperately, he began clutching at the threads of gloom, pulling them away, back toward himself, trying to weave the tapestry anew. If anyone deserved to be corrupted, it was him.

The power he’d once coveted and mastered refused to obey. Corrupt them, too…Great. The gloom had a voice now.

Scarf came close, but Shadow couldn’t focus on the conversation the other heroes were having around him. He spent the march from the clearing chasing down the power that had come so easily before, always just a bit too late as its dark fire spread throughout Link's hands, legs, and face.

They reached a bustling town, and Shadow clutched the threads of power tighter as the other eight heroes boxed Link in, ensuring he wouldn’t touch and corrupt the townspeople. Someone pulled Link's hood over his head, careful not to touch him.

Before Shadow knew it, they were in the throne room, in front of who was apparently Scarf's Princess Zelda. At her presence, the gloom he held hissed and writhed like a nest of Ropes. With a sudden jerk, he lost his grip on the threads of power; they dispersed throughout Link eagerly, seeking to consume the light. Shadow scrambled after them, desperate to reel them back in.

-----

Four looked up from his hands as they entered Artemis' throne room. The fire that had been growing steadily since he landed in this era suddenly flared to life inside him, wriggling into every extremity.

Corrupt! Kill the Princess!! The voice – the presence – thrust his own mind away as whatever power had possessed him wrested control of his body, drawing the Four Sword and charging straight toward Artemis.

His sword rebounded off a blue crystalline prism that appeared around him just before he made contact with Artemis. Her cobalt eyes pierced into his soul, and he found the courage to fight back against the dark power.

Dropping his sword, he collapsed to his knees and clutched his head; the astonished voices of the Chain floated through his prison.

“What's gotten into you, Four?!” Warriors shouted.

Four cringed against the marble tiles, trembling as courage and darkness flowed and fought within. “I don't know!” he sputtered. “There’s…there’s something in my head, I can’t control it!”

A woman who could only be Warriors' Impa strode to his side. “Stand,” she commanded. Four tried, but fell back to his knees. “For attempting to attack the Princess, you will be taken to the dungeons.”

“Now, wait! Impa, please!” Warriors tried to plead, “I know Four! He would never willingly attack Zelda.”

“Willingly or not, it does not change the fact that it happened. He was caught red-handed in the act! It’s only Princess Zelda's quick thinking that saved her life.”

Artemis held up a hand to forestall her General. Carefully, she descended the steps from her throne and stood in front of Four. “Hero of Men, of Light, and of the Four Sword,” she spoke calmly, but firmly. “Rise.”

Under her command and the strength of her power, the darkness receded, and Four managed to stagger to his feet.

“Link, you hold a great darkness, but also great light. You will struggle, but together you will conquer it.”

“Together?” Four queried, dizzy. “Princess, I don’t…understand.”

She smiled warmly, and her gaze flickered toward his feet for just a moment. “You will,” she assured. “Nayru's Love shall protect you for now. Use this time wisely.”

She nodded to Impa, who summoned the guards. “Take him to the dungeons!” she barked. “Chain him so he cannot escape!”

The guards prodded at the crystal and Four stumbled along, down a long hallway, around several corners, then down several flights of stairs. Inside the protective crystal of Nayru's Love, he could feel the dark power stirring, but it remained subdued.

Finally, they arrived in the dungeons, and the crystal shattered. With disturbing efficiency – before the dark power could roar back to life – the guards threw manacles around his wrists and hoisted them into the air, leaving him gasping as they secured the chains out of reach.

The cell door slammed shut. Four shivered in the darkness, shoulders already protesting the strain. Deep inside, the dark presence hissed, impotent.

He sighed, hanging his head. What did Artemis mean, ‘together?’

When the knock sounded throughout their suite, every head turned toward the sound. When Time opened the door, revealing Artemis outside, everyone jumped up and strapped on the few effects they’d managed to remove.

“Is it time?” Warriors almost begged.

Artemis nodded. “We shall retrieve him at once. Captain Link, will you choose one of your brothers to come with us? I must request the rest of you gather in the main courtyard.”

Warriors turned pleading, haggard eyes onto Time. “Will you come?”

Time nodded firmly. “I will.”

Warriors' shoulders sank in relief, and they silently followed Artemis down to the dungeon.

The main door groaned on its hinges when Artemis pushed it open; Time heard the clank and rattle of chains from a handful of cells as prisoners stirred.

He didn’t care about the other prisoners. He snatched a torch from the wall and stalked down the corridor until a familiar quadricolored tunic caught his eye.

Four slept, head on his chest, breath whistling faintly. Limp in his chains, arms suspended away from his body, he looked so…small. Time's heart twisted uncomfortably in his chest. “Four?” he whispered.

The Smithy’s ears twitched. Eyelids fluttered. A grimace, a deeper breath that left as a keening whine.

Finally, his eyes opened. But they weren’t their usual comforting gray, or even the eerie crimson from the day before. Instead, each eye was a mix of two colors, split down the middle: red and purple in his left, blue and green in his right. “Time?” he breathed.

A clatter of footsteps sounded as Artemis and Warriors arrived at the cell. Four stood more erect when he saw the Princess. “Wars? Artemis, we’re so sorry! We didn’t…we’d never–”

Artemis held up her hand, gently cutting off his apology. “Do you know what you need to do?”

Four blinked, shocked at the interruption. “Yes.”

“Are you ready?”

“We are.”

“Very well.” She pulled out a ring of keys, unlocking first his cell, then – carefully – his manacles.

Four groaned as his arms were released, falling bonelessly to his hands and knees. His arms trembled; in the flickering torchlight, his shadow appeared to hover worryingly behind him.

Warriors stepped forward, but Four glared up at him through his bangs. “Stop.”

Warriors stopped.

Four grimaced, but sat up straight. “Sorry. The Malice is contained, but until it is purged we’re not safe to touch.”

Artemis crouched nearby, heedless of her skirts dragging along the ground. “What do you need, Hero?”

“We need…” Four closed his eyes and held his head. His lips moved silently, like he was talking to himself, before he continued. “We need our sword…a strong magic circle…” his eyes opened and met Time's, “…and a whole lot of trust from the Chain.”

-----

This is crazy, it’ll never work, Blue whispered as Time led them out of the dungeon.

We’ve already discussed this, Vio whispered back. It has to.

After Shadow had finished his tale, Four spent another hour tracking down the dormant remnants of the Colors in his mind. It shouldn’t have been possible, his mind had been One since the end of his adventure, but with Shadow's return and the Malice infecting his body, his sense of self – of Oneness – had fractured.

Soon he’d gathered the warm hearth, the spring breeze, the steady ground and the gentle rain and coaxed them back to consciousness. They were still quiet, faded, an echo of the voices he once knew, but there all the same.

Vio's right, Green sighed. The pre-dawn light filtered softly through tall glass windows, warming Four's frigid skin. Unless we want to do Wild's quest all over again, this is the only way.

It’ll be nice to see each other again, Red breathed, glowing warmly in the back of his mind.

The Malice they held in a stranglehold hissed.

------

Twilight turned as Time, Warriors, Four, and Artemis entered the courtyard. Four and Artemis stayed back, discussing something in hushed voices, but Time strode forward with confidence, Wars trailing in his wake.

“How is he?” Twilight asked.

“Still corrupted, hurting, but they’re convinced they know how to fix it.”

“They?” Legend interrupted. “He’s never referred to himself as plural before.”

“I don’t think it’s permanent,” Time said. “It seems to me like it’s a result of whatever the corruption has done to him. Who has his sword?”

Legend raised a hand, then carefully pulled the unsheathed blade from his pouch. He held it like it was familiar to him.

“Does he need anythin’ from us?” Twilight asked.

“All he asked for was our trust.”

“That’s it?” Wind worried. “We can’t do anything else to help him?”

Warriors shook his head. “I’m afraid that’s it. He wouldn’t even let me touch him. No, whatever happens now is between him and Zelda.”

At that, the two in question approached solemnly. Four stopped nearby, but Artemis merely gave a small bow and moved on to the center of the courtyard, brows furrowed in concentration.

Twilight looked Four up and down. He looked tired. Sluggish. The dark circles under his eyes blended in with the shadows between each dull red vein across his face.

At least his eyes weren’t that bloody, glowing crimson anymore. Twilight much preferred the prism they now showed, even if it was still a little odd.

Four gave a wan smile and carefully took his sword from Legend. Once he had it settled comfortably in his palm he sighed deeply. “Let’s get this over with,” he mumbled, then looked down at his feet. “You ready?”

“Not really,” whispered a copy of Four's voice from somewhere near the ground.

Twilight thought nothing of the shadow that materialized from under Four. Midna had done the same all through his adventure.

SHING!

Twilight turned, startled, as Time, Warriors, Hyrule, Wild and Legend all pointed their swords at the shadow that now cowered behind Four. Sky and Wind stood nearby, wary, but not openly hostile.

Immediately, Four raised his own blade into a defensive guard. “No!” he barked. “Shadow is not an enemy, and we won’t let you hurt him!”

“But,” Warriors blustered, “it’s a Dark! Like the one we’ve been hunting!”

“He,” Four spoke very clearly, in a voice that chilled Twilight to the bone, “is my shadow, not a Dark. Stow your blades.” His eyes softened. “Trust us, remember?”

Twilight sensed the reluctance in the rest of the Chain, but one by one, they sheathed their weapons. In return, Twilight saw the relief and relaxation come by degrees over Four and his shadow.

“Thank you,” Four breathed. “We’ll explain more about him once this is over, but for now, it’s time for one more of our secrets to be revealed.”

Twilight stayed back as Four took Shadow's hand in his own, walking to where Artemis had laid a gently glowing golden circle of goddess magic around the central courtyard. Twilight caught a grimace on Four's face before he thrust the Four Sword between two cobblestones.

Four and Shadow each placed their hands on its pommel and closed their eyes. The pre-dawn light shifted closer to full bloom, the sun just barely under the horizon.

A light flared from the center of the magic circle, and the world around Twilight twisted.

-----

Please work, Vio pleaded as they drew on the magic of the Four Sword.

The Malice inside their body hissed and writhed against the blooming light, digging its metaphorical claws in deep.

A twist.

A shift.

A realignment.

Vio opened his eyes and allowed the smallest of relieved smiles to touch his lips. Surrounding the Four Sword were the other Colors, and Shadow with them.

Red's eyes were huge and filled with tears. Vio stepped back and held up a hand, forestalling Red's incoming hug. “Remember the plan,” he said firmly. “We cannot touch until we are purged.”

Red hugged himself instead, his body clear of the gloom poisoning except for his right hand. “Right, right, sorry,” he whispered.

Vio looked critically around the circle. Red's right hand, Blue's left, Shadow's legs…

He turned to Green, who nodded and pulled down the collar of his tunic. Patchy red veins peeked out from his chest. Good.

No one's faces had any trace of the gloom, which meant that was where his portion had manifested. He could feel it, twining with his thoughts, trying to expand and corrupt him fully.

They wouldn’t give it the chance. “To your places,” he commanded.

Quickly, they oriented themselves within the circle – Vio, Blue, Green, Shadow, and Red – five points of a star with their Sword at the center.

They knelt in place, and Artemis began a prayer of balance, of harmony, just as they’d discussed with her upon leaving the dungeon. Her prayer served as a conduit for her magic, and a metronome to which the Colors and Shadow could work.

First, the elements.

Vio’s Earth. Blue’s Water. Green’s Air. Shadow’s Darkness. Red’s Fire.

And the Four Sword, their Light, in the center.

The runes of the circle lit with the sickening red of Wild's gloom, contained within the Heroes of the Four Sword, constrained by the magic into form made tangible. Vio grinned as he caught sight of Red and Blue's bare, clear hands. It was working.

Next, the character, the whole, what made Four Link. His truest self, the traits they held, the virtues each represented.

Vio’s Reasoning. Blue’s Anger. Green’s Composure. Shadow’s Mischief. Red’s Sentimentality.

And the Four Sword, the symbol of their Heroism, in the center.

Vio watched as, slowly but surely, divine golden light forced the seething malice closer to the center, compacting its form, snapping up any attempts to writhe free. The Four Sword flared, eager to consume the impending darkness. At a motion from Green, they stood, following the light toward their sword.

Last, the characteristics and tasks they held for themselves.

Vio at the head, their Knowledge. Blue on the left, their Offense. Green near the middle, their Essence. Shadow beneath, their Reflection. Red on the right, their Defense.

And the Four Sword, their Unity, their purpose, their all, in the center.

Please, goddesses, purge our soul, reforge our bonds, let us be whole!

The malice shrieked. The dawn broke. Five hands landed on their sword, and light consumed them.

-----

Legend watched, eyes narrowed, as the five copies of the Smithy took up places inside the magic circle. He had no idea what their plan was, he’d never seen magic like this, but he hoped they knew what they were doing.

Seeing them corrupted was bringing back bad memories.

They knelt, Artemis began to pray, and – to Legend's magical senses – the circle exploded with colors.

Violet, blue, green, gray and red, streams of color swirled lazily from each figure inside the circle, spiraling inward toward the sword still lodged between the cobbles. Where the colors converged, a white light began to shine.

Pulses of acidic, malicious crimson, interspersed with the deepest black, suddenly surged from each Color and Shadow, reaching back toward the Heroes, the edge of the circle, held back only by the goddess' light and Will.

They took on form, like gibdos, like the gloom hands, but renewed and strengthening bursts of color from the Heroes pushed them back. The golden light of the circle and the white light building inside the Four Sword flared, simultaneously pushing and pulling the Malice toward the sword.

Green made a motion, and five figures stood, pacing slowly toward the center. Their light grew brighter still, and the embodiment of the malice that had corrupted them shriveled, shrieked, then disappeared with a flash as Four's component parts and his shadow placed their hands on his sword.

The light that blossomed from within the circle rivaled the breaking dawn for radiance, enough that Legend had to cover his eyes from the glow.

When he could see again, only two people stood inside the circle: Four, back in his multi-colored tunic, and Shadow, the hood of his dark tunic swaying in an unseen breeze.

The sense of wrongness that had surrounded Four since he pulled on Legend's mirror shield the day before had finally dissipated. Legend sighed in relief.

He'd actually done it.

-----

Shadow peeled one eye open, surprised at the intensity of the sunlight beating down on the courtyard. He’d been so engrossed in the ritual Link had suggested, he didn’t even realize it had risen.

Well, that answered one of his questions. This creature of darkness could, indeed, survive in the light. And he owed it all to the hero in front of him.

Without Link and his rainbow of colors, they’d still be corrupted. Shadow searched inside, savoring the pure, natural shadow magic that came as easy as breathing. No need to practice, or gather more, or hunt, like he’d had to with the gloom's power.

He opened both eyes and looked toward his Rainbow. Warm gray eyes, clear and untainted, looked back.

Link's brow suddenly furrowed. “Shadow, what happened to your face? I thought it was just the malice but…”

Confused, Shadow reached up. Thin, jagged scars radiated from the bridge of his nose outward, around his nose and across both cheeks. They connected to each other in geometric patterns, almost like… “Mirror shards…” he whispered.

“What?”

“Cracks in a mirror,” Shadow said more clearly, “like from when I…

“Destroyed the Dark Mirror,” he and Link spoke together. They spent a moment, just processing, before a thought from earlier distracted Shadow.

“Red never got his hug, did he?”

Link blinked, the warm gray tilting toward amber. “Huh. No, he didn’t.”

Shadow smirked. “Well, better get to it, Rainbow. I’ve had the worst two weeks of my lives; I could really use one.”

His Rainbow laughed, pulled his sword from the dirt, and raised it toward the sky. Sunlight refracted off the blade, then Shadow found himself at the center of a group hug.

“Thank you!” Red grinned.

Shadow sighed, leaning more fully into the embrace.

Wiping his mouth, Four sat back on his heels and took a closer look around. The castle structure didn’t look like his, and the magic in the air was unfamiliar. Not my era, then.

Warriors claimed it instead. “Mine,” he announced proudly, “and we’re only an hour or so from Castle Town. If we set out now, we can have an audience with Artemis by sunset.”

“We’re not leaving until you’ve all eaten,” Wild insisted. “Half of us had direct, prolonged contact with the gloom, and even those who didn’t spent some time in contact with it.” He materialized a cooking pot, still steaming and fragrant, from his slate. “This finished right as the portal appeared, and I’m not letting it go to waste!”

Well, Four didn’t need to be told twice. Even just the memory of the gloom hand's warm, sickening grasp, the way it burned through his vitality like it was so much kindling, made him shudder.

No, the Gloom is cool, comforting, gentle. It is power made manifest.

…What? There was no way he could be hearing voices in his head. He was One now.

Shaking the odd thoughts from his mind, he gratefully accepted a bowl of Wild's hearty cream stew. The first bite melted on his tongue, cooked to utter perfection. A shiver of pleasant warmth ran from head to foot…

…Jealousy at being able to eat anything other than bananas rolled the other way, making the hair on the back of his neck stand to attention.

Four set down his bowl, suddenly nauseous. What was going on?! He was One now, where were these thoughts coming from??

Burying his head in his hands, Four muttered to himself, “Green? Blue? Red? Vio?”

Nothing. Just his own thoughts, on one track since he’d returned the Four Sword to its pedestal, shadows weaving between them as they raced around his mind.

Four looked up again. 

Twilight was staring at him, head tilted slightly.

A curious fear rushed through Four at the look. “What?” he asked, self-conscious. 

-----

Twilight stared at Four, a slight chill that had noting to do with the delicious soup or warm sunlight pulsing across his skin. Four smelled…different. He smelled different, and his eyes, usually gray, almost glowed red in the high noon sun. 

He watched as Four's pupils dilated as he was caught staring. “What?” the Smithy asked.

“…Everythin’ okay?”

Four flinched. “Yes,” he said, too hurriedly. He picked up his bowl and began to shovel the food into his mouth, not unlike Wind was doing beside him.

Twilight’s suspicions grew. Four never shoveled his food. He liked to actually taste what he was eating. If he had hackles in this form, they’d be raised.

Something was wrong with Four.

They finished eating in silence, Four studiously avoiding Twilight's gaze. As they cleaned up, Warriors waved to catch Four's attention. “I’d like to take a final look at that arrow wound, if you don’t mind.”

-----

Four shrugged, unable to see any harm in the request. He felt fine, but he knew Warriors took his self-appointed role as field medic very seriously. “Sure,” he said, pulling off his boot and rolling up his leggings.

And stared, horrified, at the spidery red veins pulsing from the sole of his foot toward his knee, peeking out either side of the pristine white bandages.

Those weren’t there yesterday.

Ye‐es~ corrupt the heroes!

Four clutched the sides of his head, trying to shake the intrusive presence free. No, I am One. I AM ONE!! Sweat dripped down his spine; his shadow wavered as he trembled. 

Warriors pulled up short at the sight of his leg. Twilight stared accusingly over his shoulder. No, nonono…Four shrunk into himself, uncharacteristically frightened of his brothers.

Run, hide, not safe!

They are safe. I am safe. We’ll figure this out.

Four pressed trembling fingers to his lips, breathing deep to try and straighten his racing thoughts. Red out of the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he slowly raised his fingers into his line of sight. 

The pulsing red veins were on his fingertips, too, creeping slowly down his knuckles toward his palms.

Heart pounding, near hyperventilating, he pushed his way to Legend's mirror shield. “Hey, what gives?” Legend exclaimed as Four jerked him around. “Smithy?”

Four wasn’t listening. He barely recognized his own face. Pale, clammy, eyes glowing red, with red veins just beginning to spider out from beneath his headband. 

No wonder Twilight was looking at me funny.

Corrupt them, too…the other voice echoed faintly in his head. 

“What's going on, Four?” Was that Warriors? Scarf?

“I don’t know,” Four whispered, shocked. Even as he watched, the diseased veins expanded, a fraction of an inch at a time along with his racing heartbeat.

Wild appeared behind him, looking just as shocked as Four felt. “Four, that’s…that’s Gloom poisoning! That shouldn’t be possible! How do you feel?!”

“I feel…” Powerful. Scared. Strong. Weak. “Fine. I feel fine! Not sick or anything!” LiarLiar. 

But he had to lie! He was already having issues trusting himself, he hated to imagine how badly it would go if he told them the truth!

“We need to get to the castle. Fast,” Warriors said, already leading the way. “Whatever's happening, Artemis can help, I’m sure.”

The brisk march passed Four by as if in a dream. The voice in his head stayed silent, but he could not stop watching his hands as they slowly grew more red with the insidious creep of whatever curse he’d contracted. They pulsed faintly with a dark fire, not altogether unpleasant. 

That’s what scared him most. The allure of that sort of darkness only ever held passing interest for Vio and Shadow, and neither were present.