The caverns blurred and tilted, the pain radiating from his arm getting inexplicably worse. He reached out to steady himself again and stumbled when he misread the distance. His hands caught luminous stone and dolomite before he hit the floor. Just barely.

He clung to the wall like he was clinging to consciousness. The voice came again, insistent. Impatient.

“Rest. The blending takes time.”

He glared at his hands, one dark and mottled with scars, the other glowing like luminous stone.

Some said that glow came from the souls of the dead.

“I can’t rest,” he hissed, pushing himself up, even as vertigo and fever tried to send him crashing down. “That thing took her. She could be hurt, or worse by now. If I can’t find her—”

The voice scoffed, and his blood boiled. “Is your Zelda really so fragile?”

“No, she is not fragile.”

“Then rest. Trust her, as she trusts you.”

The cave swam, all blotchy and hot, and he swerved to his knees, and then to his hands. Sweat dripped off his nose and pattered on the cool floor, the sound of his haggard breath drowning out the hollow moan and trickle of water echoing out of distant tunnels.

He whispered, sagging, trembling, “What’s happening to me?”

“Your body fights me off as it would an infection. Resists.”

“Then get out of it.”

“That beast was mine to contain. You will help me seal him again.”

His arms gave out, sending him sprawling on his back. The heat pumping through him was unreal. Like his blood was on fire. His vision pulsed red and thick. A heartbeat in the dark.

The pain jolted again, sending his back arching. Running up his wrist, his arm, into his neck, his shoulder, his chest, his ribs. He loosed a stale, broken breath when it ebbed, stars behind his eyes.

“I have to save her,” he growled, demanding, or pleading.

“She carries the blood of the goddess. Her power is ancient.”

“You don’t understand. I—” He puffed a sigh, defeated. All the strength in his voice was gone. “I just got her back.”

The voice was silent for a moment, considering. “Link, is it?”

He closed his eyes, swallowed sludge, all but melted to the rock. It was like he was draining away—muscles atrophying, soul disintegrating, as his body waged a losing battle. He could feel the fever rising like an ember in his chest, in his brain.

He gasped, breathless at the heat, “Yes.”

“Yield, Link, and the pain will be quick.”

Lightning and fire burst out of his arm, spreading to his throat, his belly, his mind. And the scream that burst out of him was long, and anguished, and burning.