#violet27writes

Time woke on the cold stone floor. Alone.

This was wrong.

He should be…well, not here?

Where was here?

He and the others had been… They’d been, where? Doing what? Only a blank space sat in his mind instead of a recall. Something had happened. He just couldn’t quite remember… what.

He needed to get back to his boys.

Though a headache pounded away at his skull, Time pushed himself into a sitting position. Each of his limbs felt heavy and his joints stiff, as if he had been on the hard ground for quite a while. Perhaps he had.

Something behind him gave off a soft enough blue glow. His vision swam when he tried to look over his shoulder to see what it was. A question for later. But for now, it was enough illumination to make out his surroundings. He sat in the middle of a large, decorated stone chamber; odd symbols and swirls covered the entirety of the walls and ceiling. The floor was not without its intricacies, however, with stones that made up a larger artwork that reminded him of the composition of stained glass.

The only object of note was a well-crafted mirror that sat against the wall in front of him. Elegant metalwork made up its frame. Even though it looked as if without dust or wear, he could hardly make out the reflection it showed. The glass was as if covered by fog. How strange.

When his mind finally stopped the worst of its spinning, he finally looked behind to see where the soft light was coming from, only to see…

The Master Sword.

It lay in the true center of the room, unsheathed and unblemished. It didn’t even look as worn as it did the day he pulled it from its pedestal at ten years old, unaware of the burden that would be placed on him. The allure and shine of the blade itself told that this was Sky’s blade. Newly forged and well-cared for. What was it doing here? Never would Sky choose to leave it like this.

A sharper worry ran through his chest. Had there been a fight in this room? He didn’t know. And that scared him.

Furthermore, there seemed to be no way out of the chamber. No corridors, no hallways. He was trapped. Trapped with nothing but a mirror and that accursed sword.

As much as he hated to admit it, this place felt too eerily similar to the Temple of Time.

He could wait it out and see if something happened. Surely there had to be a sort of entrance if he had ended up here. But he did not know if time was on his side. It usually wasn’t. Regardless, he would not touch the sword. So he decided he might mess around with the only other object he could; the mirror without a true reflection.

From his spot on the floor, he could sense an underlying sort of magic hanging over it like a sheet. Perhaps pulling it away like one would bring an answer to his questions.

Time got all the way to his feet. His head still pounded in time with his heartbeat, but it was not as bad as before. The mirror sat menacingly, somehow.

Yet, he still moved toward it. Whoever had crafted it had done so with great care. And whoever had set the magic had done so with precision. Even though he’d grown up around magic, he had only caught the vestiges of it because he had been looking. He reached out, trying to focus on it.

The moment his fingers touched the glass, the fog cleared, and a face appeared on the other side, looking straight at him.

A young man. A boy.

A Hero. A child.

Time saw himself, in a body too big and too old, scared and alone. He quickly pulled away, looking down at himself only to find the familiar golden armor, hands calloused from the ranch instead of a sword, and exactly the way he was supposed to be. Still lacking the depth perception that missing an eye. Still sore from being an ‘old man’ sleeping on the ground. “What?”

A look back up at the mirror had not changed the reflection that it showed. A young Link still stood on the other side of the mirror, slowly scanning him up and down. Eyes young and curious.

“You’re… me.” Little Link said slowly.

Was this an illusion? A trick?

“I never thought I would… get old.” The boy continued, almost with confusion at the end of his sentence.

That broke a chuckle out of Time, perhaps a bit maniacal, but nonetheless with some amusement. This must’ve been himself just before the 7-year sleep. The weight of the world not having fully rested upon him yet. “You always would have, young one. Even though you will have to be out of place for a time.”

Link frowned at his words. He stepped back. “Sorry. But I don’t think, um, I’m not supposed to… I shouldn’t be here.”

Time raised his hands in a quick surrender. “I do not mean to startle you, though I’m sure this is confusing. It is for me as well. I’m not sure how you’re here, but do not grow dismayed. There is a future ahead of you.”

“You’re not….” Young Link further insisted, seeming to grow frustrated. “You’re not me.

“Not yet. I would hate to lie to you, or to trick you-”

“No, you don’t understand. You can't be me. I don’t get to grow old because I’m supposed to be dead!”

Time blinked. Another veil fell away.

In the place of young Link stood a teen covered in blood- drenched in the crimson as if it had fallen from the sky itself. His torso was torn open to reveal the viscera underneath, hanging onto flesh that was sickly pale and dying. An eye, the same Time had lost, was freshly gouged out, leaving nothing but an empty, bloody socket. Beneath ivory ribs sat a heart that did not beat. Lungs that did not breathe. There was not a single unblemished mark on his skin that still held life.

Other than the remaining eye that stared intently at him.

Time found himself unable to speak.

“Now do you understand?” The teen said quietly, his voice ragged and rough in a way that morbidly reminded him of Wild, throat long-torn and scarred. “I’m the one who failed.”

Failed.

The word finally made some things click.

The timeline they had figured out was: Sky first, then Four, then Time. But that was where their timeline got confusing, and they had given up trying to figure it out. Legend spoke of the Hero before him as the one who failed, who died, and left their world in a ruined state. Unlike Wind, who said the Hero disappeared, not that he failed; though that he was Time himself. And further unlike Twilight, whom he knew to be his descendant, whose Hero was also somehow Time. Warriors came later, since he knew of most of them, and Wild was somewhere. Possibly even near the end due to his time’s ‘technological’ advancements.

They could never quite pin down who the Hero before Legend and Hyrule was. After all, none of them knew a Hero who had died (Wild thought it might have been himself, but they couldn’t make that connection well enough to stand), and the rest of the Heroes all hoped it wasn’t them.

But if the teen in front of him, who was also him, was the one who failed… It opened the possibility that his time travel had split in many directions. One where a young child, forced into a body much too old for him, unaware of the truth of the world… did not succeed against Ganon. Did not grow up. And left the world for its next Hero. For a 10-year-old Legend.

This was a version of him who died.

That was a horrifying thought.

“...Sorry.” Link said quietly. His voice was once again soft.

Time looked back at the mirror to still see the teenager, although now without injury. His green clothes were spotless. Both eyes stared at his boots.

“Though I’m glad that another me got to grow up properly.”

He wasn’t sure what to say. Or what he could say, given everything. “I am sorry you had to meet with such a terrible fate.”

Link bit his lip. Something Time still did when he was anxious. “You talk kinda funny.”

“I suppose it happens when you grow up.” Was that insensitive? Maybe. He wasn’t sure.

“I don’t think I ever cared to grow up. I just wanted to go home. But I know you do too, at least back to the others, right?”

Home. The meaning of the word had changed so much since the start of his adventure. The Forest had been home. When all he needed and knew lay within: the Great Deku Tree, Saria, and the other Kokiri. Then the Deku Tree died, and he was told to follow his destiny. After that, it was hard to pin down where a home might be. Getting thrown forward in time and then back again, falling into Termina and the entirety of that world, to not quite having a place. Not until he met Malon again.

Because of her, Time finally had a place to call home: Lon Lon Ranch, by her side.

Right now, the only home Link had was the memory of one; a concept.

The boy did not comment on Time’s silence. When everything else had failed in his life, sometimes silence was all he had to hold onto. Instead, he leaned close to his side of the mirror. “All you have to do is break the mirror. Then you can go back to them.”

“What will that do to you?”

Link shrugged weakly. “That’s just what she told me.”

“Who told you?”

“Her.” His gaze lifted to a spot above Time’s shoulder. A different blue filled the chamber. The sound of chimes akin to bells followed, if bells could ever sound so distorted and odd, that is.

Whatever it was, Time spun to meet it, hand falling to the hilt of the weapon that wasn’t there.

Rising from the center of the chamber, from the Master Sword, rose a spirit. She was otherworldly in appearance, levitating into the air until she was several inches above the ground.

Instantly, he knew who it was. How could he not? Sky always spoke of the Spirit in the sword. Even Warriors could attest to having met the Spirit during the War, though Time had never seen hair nor hide of such an entity during it. Certainly not one bright and loud as this one.

They bowed gracefully, as a dancer or performer might before putting on a show. When they spoke, the words were strange and garbled, yet he could understand perfectly. “Greetings to you, Master Link, it is a pleasure to finally speak to you. My given name is-”

“I do not wish to speak with you, for I have nothing courteous to say.” Time cut off; he was not doing this. Perhaps like a child, he turned from her and faced the mirror once more. “Breaking the mirror will bring me back to the boys?”

Link was nearly pressed up against the glass, back in his 10-year-old form. “Please just talk to her?”

“That Sword is a curse; if I do not have to interact with it, then I will not.” The Spirit chimed behind him.

“No, she’s not. She’s my friend, like Navi was.”

“Why do you defend it? Pulling it from its pedestal brought nothing but a world of troubles… It led you to your death.”

“She tried protecting me!” The boy bit his lip again. “I failed because I wasn’t strong enough. Please don’t blame her for that.”

Time drew further from the Spirit. Still dressed in his golden armor, it would be easy enough to break the glass and get all this over with. The only thing stopping him from doing so was the boy that both was and was not him. He did not deserve his potential last moments in this plane of existence to end like this. Call him soft, but a child’s lament would be a cry heard even among the deaf. “She did nothing that we could not have done ourselves. You are strong, Link. The evil you fought would only have been sealed again for a time, as he rose again whenever the Hero’s Spirit was reborn. One day, he will be done away with for good, though I do not know when that will come to pass. Do not hold yourself to such an unreachable standard.”

“But you did it! It was only unreachable for me.”

“We are the same, are we not? Our strengths. Our weaknesses. A failure from one of us secured the future of two of our Heroes, as I’m sure you know. There was life in the destruction. I cannot say why fate chose you to fall rather than me. But I do know it all began because of that acursed sword.”

A blink. Link was the teen once again. “It’s not her fault.”

“How can a thorn be the downfall of a lion? Or a spark be the conception of a fire that burns a forest to ash? I care little for the excuses that attempt to sweeten the harshness of truth, nor do I desire to hear them.”

“She doesn’t have excuses; she has answers. I’m glad I don’t have to become as grumpy like you. If you listen to her for just one minute, I’ll let it go. So… let her talk. Please.”

Time could not find it in himself to debate further. “Speak, Spirit. The young one has fought well enough to give you a moment to do so. But answer me this: Why was all the suffering necessary?”

The Spirit gazed at him with terribly uncanny blank eyes. Slowly rising up and down almost like a breath. Then she spoke, “My sole purpose was to guide the Hero of the Skies; then I was put to rest, lying dormant until the next Hero arose. When you released me from my pedestal, it was not my decision to send you to your sleep.” Her tone changed, ever so slightly as she added, “All is as Hylia wills it.”

Time twitched, but allowed her to continue.

“I regret that I was unable to take action in your time of need. It was my every intention to assist you during your journey, as I had done for the Hero before you.” She turned to address young Link. “As with you as well. The probability of your victory would have increased by… increased greatly, had I been able to assist you. Although we have since discussed this.” Fi looked back at Time. “I understand your hatred. I only wish to illuminate the reasoning behind the events in your past.”

Time tore from her gaze, instead once again taking in the beauty of the prison he stood trapped in. “If that is truly the case,” He had to pause to find his words, “Then I am sorry for the resentment toward you. I cannot say how quickly things will change. There is much for me to think over. Still many to blame.”

“That is all I have to ask, Hero of Time.”

Quiet followed, only broken by the sound of his breaths. He supposed the other two didn’t breathe anymore.

“I must be going. Worry for the others will drive me mad, more so than I might already be, if I cannot reunite with them soon.” Right now, this was too much to handle. All he really wanted to do was go run some monsters through. “Do either of you object?”

The Spirit spoke first. “I do not. Have luck on your journey.”

“Perhaps we will meet again.”

“Improbable. However, possible. Give the Hero of Skies my greetings.” With that, she faded into a little light that returned to the Master Sword, giving it back its azure glow. Time picked it up slowly, wishing for the sheath so he did not have to truly hold onto it. Old habits die hard, regardless of whether they were truly dead or not.

She hummed in his hands.

“And you, young one? Anything you wish to say before departing?”

Link made a face. “Stop being so grumpy. I don’t like how your face looks when you mope.”

“I will try.” Time let himself smile the smallest bit. “These boys make it much easier to smile on this journey every once in a while. I do believe you would like them.”

“I believe I do. We’re the same, remember?”

He hovered near. “I truly do wish you a peaceful rest after all of this. It is the very least that you deserve.”

- - -

Legend cursed at the shining golden gate. 

A golden gate meant another hero. It meant their eight would become nine. It meant another Link whose life they had to disrupt. 

Screw all that.

It had been three or four weeks since the last golden gate and the welcoming of Four into their numbers. Since then, they had been through three different, much less divine-feeling portals, making them all assume that Four would be the last of their heroes. Turns out they were wrong.

How many more would have to join them? Just how big was the threat they would have to face? And how long before he could walk right up to Hylia and tell her to buzz off-

“Ack! Legend!” Wind yelled, throwing his arms up to keep Legend’s feathers out of his face. Whoops. 

Legend forced his flaring wings to chill out, muttering a quick apology to the tiny Sailor. It wasn’t Legend’s fault he was standing so close, after all. 

Well, there was no use in trying to fight it. Luckily, they had already packed up camp and were set to begin traveling. At least this time, Hylia let them prepare. He waited for no one before stepping into it.

Walking through it felt like every other time before. Disorienting. Cold. Wrong. One would think Hylia could spare a better way of traveling, but no, of course not. It didn’t seem she cared for their destination, either. The moment his feet found purchase in this new time, Legend was practically assaulted by the weather. 

Rain fell from the heavens in freezing cold sheets, immediately drenching through all the layers of his clothing. Someone yelped from the sudden shock of it. Strong gales blew from their left, causing Legend to stumble into the person nearest to him, Warriors, who was flaring out his wings to try to keep himself balanced. Legend nearly did the same until he then heard the thunder that boomed and echoed all around them, followed quickly by flashing lightning just beyond them. His wings stayed pressed tightly against himself. It was more likely that the wind would simply knock him down if he tried, anyway. 

A quick check assured that the two smallest were standing with others; Wind leaned against Wild, and Four with Twilight.

Hylia had dropped them in the middle of a god-forsaken lightning storm.

How lovely. He could already imagine how long it would take to dry out all his belongings.

Even better, it seemed as if they were on some kind of platform or elevated plain. Only darkness was visible past the edge, and no one would dare get close enough to see what might lie beyond. Not unless they were keen on getting blown off. Well, he’d keep an extra eye out for Wild and Hyrule.

Though, perhaps there was a bit of an upside to all this: They wouldn’t have to look far for their new hero.

In the center of it all stood a young man pointing a glowing blue Master Sword in their direction, his stance one of tired defense. The man looked confused, surprised maybe; it was hard to make out his exact expression through the heavy rain.

The leader of their rag-tag group, Time, made his way to the front of them, hands up in a sign of peace. His expression was unnoteworthy, but Legend knew that he was actively fighting back a grimace. The Old Man hated the rain; anything more than a drizzle made him irritable. Owls were not as resistant to rain as other birds, after all.

Time tried calling out to the man, but his words were stolen by the wind. Legend couldn’t even hear most of the words. The Master Sword stayed raised in warning. 

Hmm, that might be a problem. It had been difficult enough to explain themselves to any of the heroes in the first place, armed to the gills and suddenly appearing out of nowhere. It would be nearly impossible to do so if they had no true way of communication. This hero was ready for a fight.

And perhaps he had the advantage. Maybe this horrid weather was a staple of his time; if so, he surely had the advantage over any of them.

Before they could find out if that would be the case, the hero crumpled to the ground as a puppet with cut strings. And as if in pity, the rain began to let up, softening from a torrential downpour to a more tolerable rainfall. Time, Warriors, and himself, as the closest ones, surged toward the young man. Legend nearly jumped into the air, ready to spring into a quick flight to reach the fallen hero, but caught himself just before he spread his wings.

That was close. He certainly wasn’t heavy enough to fight against the winds- they would’ve easily snatched him up and carelessly tossed him away. Instead, he clinked his heels together and whispered an incantation under his breath. The Pegasus boots sang with magic. Legend ran.

When he reached the hero, the only thing he could think was, oh. This was much worse than he thought.

Just a first glance revealed pressing injuries that only one fresh from a battle should bear. Dark gashes of blood that must have been stab wounds stained the rain-soaked green tunic, and a long cut down the length of his thigh. His left arm twisted wrongly. Any exposed flesh was either black and blue, or angry red. 

In the hand that had been holding the Master Sword, the palm and fingers of the hero’s glove looked as if melted onto the skin of his hand. Exactly in the shape of her hilt. 

And perhaps worst of all, the hero, battered and broken, was only still a teenager (though that was nothing new).

Warriors finally caught up, kneeling beside the two of them. Immediately, the Captain acted, pulling the hero to himself and brushing his fingers over the evident injuries, assessing them. Being held like a child made the hero look even younger.

It was then Legend realized: the hero had no wings.

They were not folded under him, as he’d initially believed. Nor were they dark and just hard to see in the still-falling rain. No, he simply had none. Legend’s wings fluttered at the thought. He forced them back down.

The others caught up, questions in their eyes, but silence on their lips.

Then, something tugged the edge of his soul. Legend’s gaze flew up, searching. However, there was no new swirling portal in front of them. He turned.

The golden gate still stood. No.

All of the heroes bristled at once, those who could, flaring their wings in anger.

“It seems she already expects us to travel back.” Time commented. There was no lost love for Hylia in his tone. His single blue eye stared at the new hero for only a moment, before continuing, “It’s best we comply.”

Even though it was insane. Even though they had never been asked to travel through the portals more than once in the same day, let alone only a few, rain-soaked minutes after arriving. However, there was little to be done about it. Either they went through the portal willingly, or Hylia made a new one and forced them through it. He’d found that out the hard way. 

At their best, the portals were disorienting and sickening. At the worst, Legend felt as though he was being twisted inside out. His defiance had instantly turned to regret; it had been horrible. They could not do that to the boy.

It seemed like Twilight, who had also experienced the forced portal, had come to the same conclusion. “Let’s go.” He agreed. 

“No, wait.” Came a whisper.

The boy was blinking up at them, his one bruised eyelid staying stubbornly closed. 

Time knelt beside the boy. “I truly do apologize, but we must go. She…” He pauses, as if holding back as much harshness as he was able, “Hylia has willed it.”

“But,” the boy starts, trying to straighten himself as if to pull away from the Captain and move himself. A cry of pain results from the simple attempt of movement. He looks out into the nothing that waits beyond the plateau, “She’s down there. Zelda.”

And just like that, it got even worse.

While Legend could’ve put two-and-two together (a part of him already had, the rest just didn’t want to admit it), those words confirmed it. He was still on his adventure. Or from the looks of it, was just shy of completing it and returning home. But now he wouldn’t be going home.

Getting back to his feet, a knee definitely ‘popped.’ Still, Time directed his attention to the other heroes. “Come, let’s give him the moment.”

Quickly, Time and Twilight herded the remaining heroes into the portal. “We’ll meet you on the other side.” The Old Man winked at them (or had it just been a blink?) before he stepped through. Only Warriors, Legend, and the new hero remained.

The boy wasted no time. Tugging on Warriors’ scarf, he tried to pull himself up, to no avail. “Please, I just, I need to see her.” He whispered, voice ragged, desperation clear on his face. It was not a question. 

Even if he wanted to, Legend was not strong enough nor big enough to carry a passenger. Not anymore. Not since…

Stupid bleeding heart, he was. He locked eyes with Warriors. At first, he wasn’t sure what he would ask, other than perhaps to find a way to help the kid. “Captain?”

Warriors, who had appeared as torn as Legend himself was, simply nodded, expression cooling into one of resolve. He slowly rose to his feet. The boy in his arms whimpered. His blistered hands shook as he tried to grab onto the Captain.

Though the rain still poured from above, and the winds still tugged all around, Warriors lifted his wings. And jumped into the air. Within only a few seconds, Legend was lost from sight, and Warriors and his new friend soared. 

He tried flying straight just long enough to clear the plateau. Even that little bit of distance was hard. He was confident enough to know that he would not be knocked completely out of the air, but to end up exactly where he planned was less likely.

Luckily, all he planned was the dropoff. Once there was nothing but empty air beneath him, Warriors dove.

The new hero screamed. First, in surprise and fear, then it shifted more toward joy, if not disbelief. The boy clung onto him so tightly, the Captain would not be surprised to wake up with bruises in the shapes of fingers the next morning. Regardless, he knew there was no chance he would drop him.

As they fell, the storm was left behind. The thunder faded, and the rain lightened more and more the further they got. How peculiar. Warriors kept his wings flared, slowing their descent. There was no way of telling just how far the surface was, after all. To his relief, land was within sight. 

Shapes began sharpening underneath. A large stone statue made the new hero squirm, tossing his head back to get a better view. Warriors leaned toward it, letting muscle memory guide the movement of his wings. There was a little platform near the base of the statue, and at the very least, he could get them there. He would, given the pure determination this new hero held to get there.

Warriors circled the back of the statue’s head and back around to the front. They drew closer.

He heard her before he saw her.

“Link!”

Zelda. Immediately he was sure. Dressed in all white, with long golden hair and a peculiar expression set on her face. 

And then a golden gate opened before them, too close to maneuver around. Invisible hands grabbed him. Warriors was forced into the gate, the new hero held tightly in his arms. 

They’d made it to the computer room, shooting down droids along the way. Echo focused his attention on the data socket. The others broke away to do their own jobs: Wrecker to set more detonators, Hunter and Tech to make their way to the last-known location of some locals who had been locked up, and Crosshair to provide cover fire outside while Echo was preoccupied.

Kneeling down, Echo inserted his scomp-arm into the computer, letting the numbers and code flood his mind. He immediately found the controls to bolt down both entrances to the room, locking him in. Now all he needed to do was to find the data they were looking for, then shut down the power to the separatist base just like he’d done dozens of times over now.

It was a bit strange, being back on the right side of the war. Here he was, searching for the oncoming plans to support his brothers and his Republic rather than being the one to make the strategies that could destroy them. The very thing that made him their adversary was now what could save them. He would do his part until his last life caught up with him.

There. He pulled on the information, letting it settle onto his mind so he could send it to the Marauder and the Resolute after the mission. It was quick and easy, revealing that this information wasn’t as expansive as they had been led to believe. There wasn’t enough time to properly sift through it, but hopefully, it would still be as important. Once that was done, he let himself be pulled back to his body. The code rushed past him as his consciousness flew. It was not dissimilar to being tugged by a physical lifeline, although the anchor was his body, not a winch and pulley.

Echo blinked as he was again ‘aware.’ The sounds of battle filled his ears: Basterfire, whirring, shouts, and crashing. He took a moment to regain feeling in his limbs. His left hand supported him against the wall. His legs twitched as he manually checked their connection where they kneeled on the ground. It seemed all was well.

Time to go.

The scomp spun, still inside the computer. He started to disconnect and pull it out when- Pain ran up his arm, electricity surging through wires and circuits. The air in his lungs stuttered. The socket locked up, leaving Echo unable to pull away from the computer’s last-minute defense. He was stuck.

Had Echo been any less of a man, the power surge would have shut him down. Overloaded components. Rendered his modifications useless. But Echo was no droid. Nor was this place any Lola Sayu. He stayed upright as the electricity flooded his body, joints locking and prosthetics unmoving from the power influx. His entire frame shook along with the shocks. Echo gritted his teeth, hanging onto the thought of getting out of this dreadful place.

His head buzzed. It felt full of static. He didn’t quite realize why until-

“-cho! Answer!” A voice yelled through the comms.

He couldn’t find the words to respond.

A curse followed shortly after. More instructions were given, though Echo gave up trying to comprehend the words. He was losing this fight with consciousness.

The room rumbled from some kind of explosion, followed shortly by Wrecker’s manic laughter from the comms. Worryingly, even that didn’t shock him back to awareness.

One of the doors blocking off the computer room flew open. His eyes turned to it, expecting to see one of his squadmates. Instead, two dozen battle droids flooded in, all blasters aimed at him.

No no no no. Not again.

The electricity flowing from the computer was still burning. His flesh hand twitched beneath, while the rest of his body still trembled. Echo couldn’t move- there was nothing he could do to escape or to defend himself.

This was not Lola Sayu. His squad knew something was wrong- The comms were still filled with aggressive chatter.

A droid broke from its formation to step up to the controls.

This was not the citadel. His brothers were on their way.

The socket pulled him forward, trying to bring him back into the computer. Trying to do something. He didn’t know what.

The second door behind him opened without a sound. He knew he was surrounded.

“Echo!”

Although he knew he was hardly in the clearest mindset, he would not forget what happened next.

The droids were all pushed back by some invisible gust of wind that Echo couldn’t feel. Falling back and crashing to the ground. Then their frames crumpled, as if crushed, circuits flashing and metal crunching. Each one destroyed beyond repair. It happened quickly. Echo wasn’t sure if he believed what his eyes saw.

The world went silent.

If it weren’t for the fact that Echo knew their squad was the only Republic forces here, he would’ve thought a Jedi was standing behind him. His neck was still stuck in place, preventing him from figuring out who this person was.

Tech and Hunter appeared from the first door, their faces marked with shock and resolve. Then, the first door slammed shut, and the panel on the wall was hit with a blaster bolt, locking it in place.

Tech ran straight for the computer. Hunter kneeled beside him, lips moving, but mouth not making a sound. He looked behind Echo. Talking some more.

A minute later, the socket unlocked, rejecting his scomp and forcing it out. The electricity lingered, but lessened dramatically.

Hunter didn’t catch him time. But someone else did.

Echo wasn’t awake long enough to figure out who.

- - -

Echo came back to consciousness with a start. The memory of electricity still runs though him. Exhaustion sits on his frame- the ache thrums on his bones. But now relative quiet is what meets him rather than the sounds of the battle. He uses the moment to take in his surroundings.

First, the frame underneath him is not cold durasteel, but instead the hard form that GAR instists is a mattress. Hunter’s thin blanket is what’s draped over him- not a surgical cloth. He caresses his thumb over what has to be Wrecker’s Lula doll. Everything rumbles steadily beneath him, matching the perhaps over-modified engine of the Havoc Marauder. It nearly lulls him back to sleep.

Instead, he blinks into the dim lights of their quarters, catching the ray of light from the bow of the ship. In the next room, several voices go back in forth in easy conversation. He can’t quite catch the words. All he knows is, after a moment, the voices trail off, which results in Wrecker whining over something.

Hunter steps through the entrance to the ‘barracks,’ an odd expression on his features. It shifts into a probably-soft smile. He walks up to the bunk. Crosshair’s bunk (Thankfully; the hammock wouldn’t have been as pleasant).

“Had us worried there for a minute.”

Echo doesn’t quite have the strength to answer beyond a bashful look.

He remembers the strange event that happened before he lost consciousness. How all his enemies were knocked back and crushed from seemingly nothing. It had to be the force. A jedi? Echo doesn’t know. At the moment, he’s not too concerned over it.

Perhaps he’ll ask in the morning.

“Rest. We can bebrief once you’re upright.” Hunter says, seeming to read his mind. Though it’s not quite an order.

Wild blinked at him. The back of his mind told him that something was off. If he had been a little more aware, maybe he would’ve noticed the haggardness of the Traveler’s appearance. Or the solemn look in his eyes. Or the fact that the glow that surrounded Hyrule was very dim- the telltale sign of low magic that only Wild could sense.

However, none of this set off any warnings at him. Instead, he threw back the blanket that had lain over him with a thoughtless ‘hmm,’ barely noticing the wolf pelt that had sat on top.

The low talking slowed to a stop. Other than Hyrule’s, which he ignored. Wild looked up to see what had been going on.

Not too far off, most of the others sat in an odd shape- Wind huddled up next to Wars. Four sat further off, sleeping. Holding a bloodied Sky. Legend was nearby holding a book. Time and Twilight weren’t in sight-

Wait. “Sky!?” He shot to his feet- only to find himself back on the ground. The pain in his skull flared up, reminding him (again) of his injury.

“Wild, you need to slow down.” Hyrule reprimanded. He sat next to him and helped him back into a sitting position.

But the Champion was stunned, “Sky’s here! He’s back. And he’s hurt!”

Hyrule simply looked at him. “I know, I know… He’ll be alright. But he’s sleeping right now so we need to let him rest. Okay?”

That was rude. He nodded anyway. Ow. Maybe don’t nod yet.

The Traveler hovered awkwardly. 

Wild blinked down at the soft shirt that was not his- it was one of the Rancher’s sleep shirts. The one with the color of rice pudding. 

Hmm. He could totally go for some pudding right now. Or some rice. That stuff was good…

A finger tapped his forehead. “Ow.” He pulled away.

Legend now sat in front of him, one eyebrow raised. “He’s definitely still out of it.”

“I figured that much,” Hyrule said, “Maybe I should-” “No.” Legend said firmly, “No more magic, you’re exhausted enough.”

“Just a little?”

“No.”

“We need to kill some crabs.” Both of them stopped, eyes turning back to Wild, who stared back with a blank expression.

Legend blinked. “...What?”

“Mmhmm.” Wild elaborated. He didn’t see what was so hard to understand- Rice was great, but it was even better when paired as seafood curry. Which meant he needed to restock his inventory for dinner. Obviously.

The other teens had no further response.

They were boring; he needed someone who would agree with him. “Imma go sit with Sky now.” Wild shot up, nearly falling back down when his brain seemed to burst from his skull. Someone steadied him. Ledge and Rulie’s back-and-forth talking started up again. His head hurt.

“I’m going. You helping?” He said again, dumbing it down in case they still weren’t getting it.

Legend sighed, brushing off the Traveller. “Better than him hurting himself.” With that, the teens settled on either side of Wild, keeping him vertical. Each step sent another pain through him. (Ow.) And when did he put on Wind’s iron boots? His feet were so heavy.

A glance down at his feet revealed them to be bare, his toes now covered in dirt. Hmm…

Anyway, he looked back up and was immediately met with a dizzy spell. 

“Okay, that’s close enough.” Legend declared.

Wild was set on the ground. Right next to Four and… “Sky!”

“SHHH!” Ledge and ‘Rule hissed in unison. 

Four peeked open an eye to glare at the trio. He softened once he saw the Champion. Straightening up, the Smith turned his full gaze back to the other teens, “Alright, now go find something else to do, you two.”

“But-” “Go.”

Wild watched as they left: Legend, of course, in a huff, steps loud and movement exaggerated- At least Hyrule looked apologetic in his much quieter departure.

Before pulling his feet into a cross-cross, Wild shifted closer to the pair still on the ground. Then, for a moment, he just took in Sky’s appearance, eyes lingering on every obvious wound. The dried red on his torso was the most worrisome one. It was reminiscent of the red and white kikoi he usually had tied around his waist, in a way, though the comparison couldn’t have been more different.

The kind hero was never meant to be hurt like this. Even Wild’s muddled mind knew that.

He set the back of a hand carefully on Sky’s head, just as his mind told him to do when someone was under the weather. It just wouldn’t tell him why the motion was important. He heard Four chuckle softly.

Satisfied with the temperature, Wild ran his hand up, combing his fingers through the other’s hair. It was tangled. Not dissimilar to the natural state of his own hair. It would need a wash- Maybe he could steal some of Warriors’ stuff; it was much nicer than the soap Sky tended to use.

Soft blue eyes blinked up at him. Wild smiled.

With a sharp inhale, Sky froze. Four also stiffened in response to the movement.

Wild fell back, immediately regretting the sudden movement as his skull lit up in pain. Then, it was silent.

Once he regained some sense about him, Wild saw Sky’s gaze jump to his hip, searching back and forth. Right where his Slate usually sat, but now held nothing, not even the holster for it. Is that what he was looking for? “I don’t know where my… Sheikah Slate is right now.” He paused to peer out at the campsite. Nope. It must have been in someone’s bag.

Sky seemed to breathe again. 

“Truly?” He asked quietly. His soft and gentle voice was scratchy and hoarse.

“Mmhmm.” Wild responded.

Sky inhaled again, slowly exhaling this time rather than holding it. He made an effort to move his arm, but stopped once he realized that the limb was pinned to his chest. That, along with the sheer amount of bandages covering it. 

Then, even though his expression was full of fear and unease, Sky held out his left hand. Fingers outstretched toward the Champion.

Four stayed quiet through the exchange. Eyes intense and piercing. Simply Watching. Waiting.

Wild moved slowly, used to being gentle with wildlife, especially injured animals. He grasped onto Sky’s hand, warmth rising in him.

Sky pulled him closer to himself, until Wild was close enough that he could lean in and give him a great big hug. However, he didn’t quite trust his uncoordinated limbs to do so without jostling the other’s injury. 

It seemed the Chosen Hero didn’t care. He rose partially from Four’s grip so he could rest his head against Wild. Close enough to a hug: the Champion brought his other arm up to support and cradle his head, fingers once again brushing through the dirty blond locks. They still needed a good wash.

They stayed in the awkward, half-hug for as long as Sky had the strength to sit up. It was both too short and just right when the hero collapsed back onto Four. Wild still rubbed gently at the shoulder above his injured arm.

They smiled at each other.

Until Wild had to mess it up.

The stupid part of his brain broke the silence with “What hurt your arm?”

Sky’s gaze sharpened, and his frame stiffened. Though he made no effort to pull away from him or flee. His expression filled with confusion, brows furrowing.

Other than the breath of nature, the only sound the duo made was their footfalls, too tense to hold any semblance of conversation. Now, as a southerner, Twilight could make any conversation welcoming and easygoing, holding the sickly sweet facade for as long as the occasion called for. Even if the world was falling apart, ‘country charm’ could convince you otherwise. He was certain Time could do the same, if not at least play along, but Twilight had the impression that stewing in anxious silence was still miles better than trying to hold a meaningless conversation. So the silence it was.

Although, the anxious silence came with anxious thoughts. About Sky. About what exactly he had been through. He had been missing for four weeks. All his belongings had been left behind, he’d simply disappeared, and no clue or hint of struggle gave them any traction of his whereabouts. In response, Twilight and the others had raided nearly every monster camp they’d come across, pleaded with each traveler for any information, and searched high and low. And of course this had happened in Wild’s era, the biggest and most spread apart time among them. It had been an agonizing month as they found nothing. Until, that is, a Yiga-disguised traveler had attacked, but had been too slow to get away before Twilight was on top of him, pinning him down. 

Sky was at the old Yiga base.

When they’d arrived, various monsters milled about, and dozens of Yiga lay inside. Unfortunately for them, eight angry heroes didn’t allow them to put up much of a fight. And that’s when they’d found him, battered, beaten, and effectively broken.

Last Twilight had seen him, Sky was bundled up and fretted over by everyone who was still conscious when he and Time had broken off for a supply run.

Twilight didn’t want to think too hard on what their brother had experienced during that month. Torture? Indefinitely so. The dastard behind it all? Gone. They’d fought nothing but goons and lackeys during their battle. By the time they’d gotten to Sky many of his injuries were older and scabbed over, meaning that whoever was responsible for the cruel mistreatment of his brother was long gone. Even Wild had no clues about who, although a concussion was already plaguing him by then.

For his own sake, the dastard would never get close to Sky again. Or else they might not live to see tomorrow. If he got his hands on them-

A heavy hand landed on his shoulder. They stopped as Time met his gaze, “We’re nearly there, so let’s not get lost in thoughts.”

Twilight merely nodded, not knowing whether to be impressed at the fact Time had basically heard his thoughts, or intimidated by it. They continued on, their pace speeding back up as they walked. But no longer in silence.

“Time…” Twilight started, but he paused his words, unsure of what exactly he had been about to ask. Asking if Sky would be okay was a loaded question. They left not soon after he’d startled awake, punched Warriors in the face, and then passed out again, so at least he was still fighting. However, he had been through a lot, and mentally, Twilight wondered how long those wounds would take to heal. That wasn’t something Time could answer.

He could ask if they were going to track down the dastard behind it, but it would be a fruitless search with a fruitless end in Wild’s huge world. Whenever the moment would be when they switch eras would also cause their efforts to have been in vain. No matter how badly he wanted it, revenge would be unwise. So he didn’t ask that.

Instead, he glanced over at his ancestor, “How can we help him?”

The words hung in the air for too long, to the point where Twilight was beginning to wonder about that question too. Was it bold to assume he had any right or capacity to help with such an experience?

“However we can.” Time finally answered. His gaze was pinned ahead of them. “If Sky needs strength, we will hold him up. If quiet, then we will silently comfort. If he’s holding on to his last scraps of courage, we will fill in the gaps with pieces of ourselves and show that a hero’s spirit cannot be quenched by darkness…” It was then that Time finally met his gaze, “But above all, we will be there.”

Twilight allowed the smile to play on his lips, “You should write a play with that fancy language, Old Man. But I fully agree.

“Thank you.”

Time smiled back.

Eventually, the edges of the campsite fell into view, illuminated both by the falling sun and the young fire sitting in its center. 

Warriors was leaned over Hyrule, who was standing around the cookpot, the former looking a little green at whatever vile contents filled the pot. Legend and Wind were nearby, seeming to have a civil bickering match, with Wild half-listening to them while flipping through his slate, bandages still wrapped around his head. And far on the other side of camp, Four read a book with an unconscious Sky leaned in close. 

Camp quieted down when he and Time arrived. Even Four looked up from his book. Something had happened. That much was evident by the atmosphere of the others.