@viisaus
The waters ran cold through her fingers as she stood at the edge of the sacred spring in Faron Woods. So much of the place was still so similar to what she remembered-- and it was still so shockingly different. The magic had long since drained from the lands, the dragon gone, the lake migrated off.
And the cistern. Taken over by monkies and grown through with vines, the water stagnant and no longer cleansing. Home to monsters and over grown invasive plant species now. And perhaps the cistern was a hope long lost, but the guardian of light in these lands was still here. Not strong, but not forgotten by time at least.
The mud clung to her sandals and the water soaked her bottoms, but Impa was largely unbothered even as the tail of her cloak dragged through the waters. Golden harp in calloused hands was held out, fingers plucking a few strands before setting in to a slow and eerie tone.
← → ↓← → ↓
Where as the birds chirped and the wind rustled the soft leaves-- all was silent for the performance. Not even a breeze dared brush past as the sheikah woman rocked slowly with each note set-- the waters at her feet almost seeming to shimmer gold as the song reached its peak.
As the notes fell off, like ripples in the water, life seemed to return to the spring in full force. The birds began a chorus, the waters of the spring glittering and clearer than before. And a soft smile graced Impa’s lips as she felt the familiar radiance buried deep in the waters magic.
