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Ghirahim was in the best mood he’d been in for centuries.
Admittedly, being on the Surface for hundreds of years was rather…isolating. His minions were mindless and not good company, the Surface-dwelling creatures were weak and fled when they saw him (rightfully so), and the dragons tried to kill him on sight (a mutual behavior).
Despite Ghirahim’s long-ago vow to revive his Master, he’d been metaphorically sitting around twiddling his thumbs ever since. Oh, he wasn’t idle—his hands were always Demise’s vigilant workshop—but little progress was made. There was not much magic left in the Mortal Realm, and certainly nothing strong enough to break the Goddess’s seal on Demise. The Sacred Realm, where the remaining humans had fled, was fiercely and solidly warded. And while terrorizing the other Surface dwellers was a delightful pastime, it didn’t amount to anything productive.
Ghirahim had, in that second century or so, managed to uncover the Goddess’s plans thanks to spying on that tenacious and annoying little Shiekah, the last member of the faction of humans that guarded the Sealed Grounds. She unfortunately had learned to create her own wards to chase him away most of the time, but in her loneliness, sometimes she prayed aloud to that accursed Goddess of hers, and Ghirahim had managed to pick up on a few significant details while creeping about the grounds.
The Goddess Hylia was no more.
The glorious and ethereal being who had opposed Ghirahim’s Master with graceful and unwavering resolve, who had thrusted her own blade against Ghirahim himself, who had, in the end, plunged her sacred weapon through Demise’s skull and sealed him deep in the ground, had, in the aftermath, been too wounded to continue. Gods and demons did not heal with time as mortals did, though their endurance was far superior. And due to her divine nature, she was unable to wield the very power she guarded, the sacred Triforce.
So, whispered in the hallowed halls on the lips of reverent Shiekah, Ghirahim had learned that Hylia, his loathed and despised enemy, had lowered herself to the flesh of worms and insects, and recreated herself as a human, to be able to use the Triforce and slay Demise once and for all.
Ghirahim wasn’t sure whether to think she was pathetic or brave for doing so. On one hand, it was downright repulsive to imagine her radiance in some sack of veins, viscera, and digestive systems. On the other…her dedication to protecting the humans she cared for so deeply was…admirable, in a twisted way.
No matter what he thought about it, it was done. And there were certain opportunities to be seized with such a vulnerable source of power. So Ghirahim threw himself into research of how to pierce the Sacred Realm and swipe away the little human vessel who would hold unimaginable power in her skin.
Except, well…the spells came up blank, numerous times, after numerous attempts. Ghirahim eavesdropped on the Shiekah some more and eventually determined that Hylia’s transition from deity to human would take…time. Unfortunately. From the way the Shiekah spoke of it, a good, long time. She continuously muttered about waiting, watching, preparing, for the day her beloved goddess would return to her, forever if need be.
Lovely.
Leaving Ghirahim with nothing to do but linger around and tap his foot as he waited. And waited. Suns rose and set, moons waxed and waned, trees changed with the cycle of seasons and sands shifted with the winds. Every once in a while, he would cast the searching spell again, each time resulting with disappointment.
Until recently.
Finally, in the center of the basin of the potion he’d concocted, there had been a faint glow. He’d almost gotten his hair singed from leaning over it, peering at the small sign of divine light it detected. Precious, muffled, but still very much present. And in that moment, he rejoiced just as her sniveling little humans would, his grin wide and deranged.
From there, after so much time of waiting, it was a quick task to carefully pinpointing her location in the Sacred Realm, crafting a small fissure at her location with all the magic he had accumulated, and conjuring a storm to suck her out. A simple, powerful extraction.
She landed in Faron Woods, not far from the Sealed Grounds, the place of his master and close to his own hidden base. Ghirahim immediately gathered his energy to warp right to her, departing in a spark of crystalline magic.
He found her laying in a clearing, still unconscious, wearing a simple pink dress and, ironically, the symbol of Hylia on a blue layer of the skirt. He supposed in general ascetic she resembled the Light Goddess, with long blonde hair and beautiful features, but only in the plainest sense. A golden harp laid not far from her, resembling the one Hylia had wielded. Ghirahim had clear memories of the goddess using her quick, skilled fingers to spring music that she warped into weapons, attacks of magical storms, rays of resplendent light, and various natural elements of the Mortal Realm, called to her command. Symphonies, preludes, requiems, nocturnes, melodies and all, raising creation to her conduction.
But this girl’s power…Ghirahim approached her and folded his hands behind his back, leaning forward to observe her closely. He flicked his tongue out to taste the magic in the air. He almost felt nothing, and yet…
Ghirahim was never much for eating—he didn’t require it, after all—but in the boredom of the last several hundred years, he had partaken in a few adventurous activities. Who could blame him? He was curious by nature. And the best way he could describe this girl’s power was biting into something that hadn’t been mixed properly. Like eating bread that was flavorless until suddenly you bit into a clump of herbs or sugar or baking material, and it exploded in your mouth to the point of unpleasantness.
This was most definitely Hylia.
Hylia, in mortal form. The Spirit Maiden.
And after decades of war and fierce battles to press her strength to waver even a little, here she laid, at Ghirahim’s feet, rendered unconscious by a mere storm. The tornado had no doubt been a rough ride, but Ghirahim had ensured it wouldn’t kill her. It was ironic to take such care with one he had once been so determined to destroy. Demise might laugh if he were here; that dark, bloodthirsty one of his.
While Ghirahim ruminated, the girl began to stir. A little moan of discomfort left her lips, and she blinked her eyes open, dazed, before she finally, blearily focused on him.
Ghirahim let his lips peel back from his sharp teeth in a smile. “Hello.”
The girl shut her eyes for a moment, raising a hand to her head. Ghirahim watched her closely as she gingerly pushed herself up, wincing a little as she did. Ghirahim took a small step back but watched her no less intently.
“Where…am I?” she muttered, her eyes slowly widening as she looked around the clearing, the cliffs that boxed them in aside from the winding grassy paths that led to other parts of the forest and the Sealed Grounds.
She clearly didn’t recognize the Surface, or the very area (or adjacent area) where she had imprisoned Demise. Did she have no memories of her past life?
Curious, Ghirahim decided to go along with it.
“You had quite a fall, tumbling from the sky as you did,” he told her, masking his expression into one of curiosity and concern. “You are by Faron Woods. Where did you come from?”
“Faron Woods?” the girl asked, looking up at him. Her eyes were blue and, though perfectly aware, dull. They did not glow with the ferocity, valor, and willpower of Hylia. “I’ve never heard of it. I thought I knew…” She trailed off, her brow furrowing. Ghirahim guessed she was trying to recall how she’d gotten here.
A drop of wariness came upon him, wondering if she would suddenly understand her situation, recognize him, and attack. He didn’t know what abilities she had, but if she possessed her old powers (and she did have the harp still), there was no way Ghirahim could counter her without Demise’s support.
But to his fascination, she snapped up straighter in alarm and cried out, “I’m on the Surface!”
Her realization, though clearly groundbreaking for her, paled in comparison to the true magnitude of their current state of affairs.
Ghirahim couldn’t help his captivation. He knew he should whisk her up and march her straight to the Sealed Grounds, perform the ritual he knew by heart, and revive his glorious Master back into the Mortal Realm.
But…she was interesting. Ghirahim had never seen nor heard of a god incarnated into a human. He was curious. Demise had waited centuries; he could wait a few moments more, couldn’t he?
“Yes,” Ghirahim confirmed, observing the wonder in the young girl’s eyes and she looked around, her gaze falling on a flock of small birds not far from them. “Faron Woods is part of the Surface. Welcome.”
Something about his words seemed to snap her attention back onto him. She looked up as if only just now fully realizing he was there.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, and he blinked at her in bewilderment. “I’m not being very polite, am I? My name is Zelda. What’s yours?”
Never in a million years had Ghirahim ever imagined the Goddess Hylia apologizing to him. He quickly masked his shock.
“Ghirahim,” he introduced with a little bow. “Some call me Lord Ghirahim, though I’m not fussy.”
The girl—Zelda, she said her name was, which he supposed it made sense that she wouldn’t be called Hylia—looked a little confused. “Lord?”
Ghirahim didn’t want to tell her ‘Demon Lord.’ He had a feeling that would not go well. So instead he brushed it off, saying, “There are not many other creatures to rule over here on the Surface, but I’m a being of great power, so forgive me for indulging in a little vanity.” After a pause, he added, “Forgive my flare, as well. You do not have to address me as such,” though he didn’t know why he said so. Hylia treating him with reverence would be hilarious, but it also just seemed wrong and awkward.
“It’s nice to meet you, Ghirahim,” Zelda said with a nod. So polite. Ghirahim was fond of manners, or at least the display of it, so he found himself a little charmed.
“Likewise,” he said with a grin. He then extended a hand to her. “Are you able to get to your feet?”
“Let’s see,” she said with a nervous smile. But despite her doubt, she placed her hand in his and he helped her to her feet. She let go, brushing off her skirts and fetching her harp, completely ignorant of how she’d just casually taken the hand of one of her greatest enemies.
“You appear to be all in one piece,” Ghirahim said smoothly.
She smiled a little. “That’s something good, at least.”
The girl’s eyes flicked away a moment and her kind demeaner faded. Ghirahim watched her grip the fabric of her dress anxiously. “I hate to be rude…” she began, pursing her lips, “and not that your home isn’t lovely—” Ghirahim nearly chuckled, she thought this was his home, “—but do you know how I could get back to the Sky? I have family and friends there who will be worried about me. I need to let them know I’m alright.”
Sensing the perfect opportunity, Ghirahim slipped on an expression of thoughtfulness and raised a hand to his chin.
“Well, I have never heard of a predicament such as yours,” he told her, tapping a fingertip against his jaw. “However, I may still be able to help. I am capable of magic, you see. And if you would journey with me a short distance from here, I will take to you to a place that would allow me to examine the magical residues around you more accurately. Perhaps I can discover something about how you – fell – “ he corrected himself at the last second, almost saying, were taken “ - and thus how to help you get back.”
All of this was completely false, of course. Ghirahim could taste the magic around her just by flicking out his tongue. But Demise would be proud of his manipulation. The Demon King liked to take advantage of the goddess’s naivete, occasionally pretending to be open to negotiations to get her to lower her guard. The fact that she had trusted them, endured consequences for it, and yet had still overcome them, was a testament to her strength.
“Would you really?” the Spirit Maiden’s eyes lit up with hope and she stepped closer to him. “Yes, thank you!”
Charmed despite himself, Ghirahim extended his arm, and the young human girl looped her own around his. He was much taller than her, even in this more humanoid form, and had to lean down slightly to keep her comfortable. But he delighted in it. Here they were, on a casual stroll, to sacrifice her soul and revive the Demon King. The only thing that would make this better was a silver platter to put her on.
Her gait was much slower than his, but Ghirahim didn’t mind it. In fact, he savored it, having not felt this cheerful in some time.
“This is all so amazing,” she said to him, her head turning this way and that to observe the trees, the wildlife, the hills. “I keep expecting to see a drop off to the Sky around a corner. But everything feels…solid. I had never thought—well, I always believed the stories about the Surface were just fairy tales.”
Extremely humorous, coming from an ancient goddess who had played a large part in the balance of the different realms.
“How enchanting this must be for you,” Ghirahim sighed wistfully, somewhat genuine. “To walk right into the legends you’ve heard about and dreamed of.”
“Yes, that’s exactly it,” the Spirit Maiden agreed. “Part of me wants to go explore right now. Maybe I can, later.” She looked dreamy at the thought.
“I’m sure you could,” Ghirahim lied.
“If you don’t mind me asking,” the Spirit Maiden began, pursing her lips again, and leaning forward a little to peer at him, “What…are you? According to the legends, all humans on the Surface were wiped out or fled onto the Sky islands. And you…don’t seem quite human.”
“Not quite human is a good way to put it,” he told her with a wink, leaning back his head to shift his hair so she could see both eyes for it.
What to say? Ghirahim was actually a creature that defied straight definition. He was a Sword Spirit, but also a Demon Lord, and also capable of great magics beyond either. One of a kind, truly. And his origins…he didn’t think about that.
“Beings of magic such as myself are often unique,” he said. Feeling flamboyant, he raised his free hand and strung his fingers on the air, summoning threads of magic to wind around them. A few strings of whirling red magic curled around his fingers, glimmering and twirling. The Spirit Maiden gasped, staring at his hand in adorable amazement. “I have no kind. There are no others like me.”
“That sounds lonely,” the Spirit Maiden said, sounding sorrowful.
Ghirahim shrugged, flicking the magic away from his fingers and letting it disperse into the air. “I take pride in being one-of-a-kind.”
“Well, I’ve certainly never met anyone magical like you before,” the Spirit Maiden replied, the pity fading from her, thankfully.
Again, Ghirahim was amused. She was one of the most magical beings he had ever encountered, her abilities far outpacing his. She wielded the elements of the world and her mere existence was purified light.
However, the subject was dropped as they came out of the woods onto the rim of the Sealed Grounds. A great spiraling chasm opened before them, a wide pathway circling around and around to the bottom center. The grass there was black as if burned, and carved symbols twined around a stone spike driven into the ground at the very center.
The Imprisoned.
Demise.
His Master.
Ghirahim took a step, hungry to continue, but found his arm tugged. His turned his head and saw the Spirit Maiden looking down at the Seal, her expression troubled and distant. Her hold on his arm was tight.
“There’s something…wrong about this place,” she said quietly, like they were in a graveyard of troubled spirits and she was afraid to disturb them.
So long as the Spirit Maiden showed no sign of regaining her memories, Ghirahim would continue with his façade.
He patted her hand on his arm consolingly. “Strong quantities of magic like this can be unsettling for those who aren’t used to it. I promise, you’re perfectly safe.”
She took a small step back, loosening her hold on Ghirahim’s arm. “I don’t know…”
“Come now,” Ghirahim said, flashing his most comforting smile that still showed his fangs. Threatening and consoling all in one. “Don’t you want to go home? If anything happens, I’m right here to protect you.”
She hesitated a beat more, and Ghirahim waited, ready to pounce on her if she moved back one more step.
“Alright,” she said reluctantly, stepping back to his side. “If you’re sure…”
“Absolutely!” he cheered, tugging her along. “You know, if you would be more comfortable, I could carry you to the bottom. I’m stronger than a human and could make it in only a few bounds. No danger at all.”
Wasn’t that a hilarious image, carrying around the Spirit Maiden like he was some kind of hero.
“I think I’d prefer to walk,” she said, though her nose crinkled in amusement.
“As you wish,” Ghirahim bowed his head a little and they continued their walk down the spiral, a much longer way but Ghirahim was willing to wait.
“What other beings are down here?” Zelda asked him eagerly, as her gaze caught on a few more birds flying high overhead, only specks in the sky. Local fauna were cautious about coming near here. “The legends said that humans were removed from the Surface, but the other races that dwelled here remained.”
Ghirahim hummed, absently indulging her. “It is true, humans were Hylia’s people, though she was friendly with the others. There are the Gorons, which are people with skin as hard as rock, the Kikwi, little forest creatures that disguise themselves as bushes, Parella, whom can breathe underwater…”
Zelda watched him raptly through his listing. “Wow,” she said, eyes sparkling. “I wish my Dad could hear about this. He would love it.”
He glanced at her, thinking of how odd it was for her to have a human father. To have been a mewling human baby that screeched and cried and shook its helpless little fists, to have been a young human child that liked pretty clothes and sweets. To have been scolded by her father for sneaking out at night or some other, while her own spirit was far older than his could ever be.
Deciding he wanted to hear more about her strange life, he asked, “Tell me about the Sky. I have never been there myself.”
“Oh, it is wonderful, though I am not sure how it compares to everything here. There are Loftwings that everyone bonds with and flies on, and some people become knights. My friend Link is training to be one…”
She went on and on, Ghirahim listening attentively and occasionally interjecting to ask a question or request more details. Sometimes she turned the questions back on him, asking him about other animals on the Surface and the other races he mentioned.
She was charming and animated, giving interesting information and being interested in Ghirahim in turn. She asked him about his travels and he described withered deserts and blistering volcanos to her, and wistfully talked of oceans with decorous coral reefs below the waves that had dried up into sand long ago. It had been a long time since he’d had someone to truly talk to. But, he supposed, he would have Demise back soon enough.
Even if Demise wasn’t much of a conversationalist.
“Are there monsters down here?” the Spirit Maiden asked at one point, looking unsure. “The legends said these lands were riddled with monsters…but we haven’t seen any.”
Ghirahim smiled with his sharp canines, blinking innocently. “Oh, here and there, but I would hardly call the Surface riddled with them. They’ve faded over the years, I think.”
That last bit was true, and sort of his fault. While he could have continuously plagued the Surface with hordes of bokoblins…that was just so much effort. He was a Lord of Demons, but summoning them took energy and the dragons swept them away when too many demonic creatures encroached on their territory. So, it was pointless and got tedious before too long. Every once in a while Ghirahim went and terrorized some mortals to stave off the boredom, but there was little point in bothering with dirt-diggers or rusted robots or little penguin-creatures that spent most of their day faceplanting.
The Spirit Maiden’s shoulders sagged. “That’s a relief. The legends made it sound like everything was destroyed and the Surface was just a great barren ruin, but it’s so beautiful now, so the land must have recovered—”
She cut off, her eyes going wide. It took Ghirahim a moment to realize they had reached the bottom of the chasm, and she was staring again at the stake embedded in the blackened ground. He’d been so engrossed in the conversation, in hearing what the humans Hylia had so protected still remembered through the years, that hadn’t noticed that they’d reached the end of their descent. Not that it mattered, they had been in no danger, but…still. He should have been entirely focused on their approach.
“I don’t know about this,” she said uneasily, looking at the stake as if a monster might break out of it. Which…well, that was accurate.
“Not to worry!” Ghirahim said cheerily, unwilling to let her back down. He placed his hands on her shoulders and pushed her forward, guiding her to just outside the circle. “Just sit right here and I’ll begin the spell. Everything will be fine.”
He pressed her down and she sat, clearly reluctant but not rebellious.
Ghirahim took a breath. Here they were. At last. This was his moment, this is what he had practiced for and waited for and oh so carefully planned for. Waiting, craving, almost like the prayers the humans murmured to their Goddess. Here it was.
He stretched out his arms and flexed his fingers. Usually he liked to begin complex spells with a dance, to help him start to feel and channel the magic, but the Spirit Maiden was already uneasy and he could do without.
Instead he brought his hands towards his chest, where his diamond was hidden under his human glamour disguise. He called forth the magic from the wellspring of his power, holy origins to corrupted essence, rising to the surface like when his Master had raised him and called forth a Skyward Strike. Magic sparkled and bubbled within his body. Ghirahim then reached out with the magic towards the grain of light in the Spirit Maiden—
He brushed right through it.
…What?
Ghirahim reached again. He saw the girl shudder at the invisible touch but paid it no mind. He tried to grasp at the power inside her. He could sense it clearly, but it was as immaterial as smoke. It avoided him, like a leaf on the wind or a minnow in a stream, too fast, too small, too slippery for his large, clumsy hands. It vexed him; he was the very definition of finesse, thank you very much!
Ghirahim tried again and again, carefully at first but more recklessly as it eluded him. His frustration grew and grew. He wanted to scream. He wanted to throttle it.
A horrible idea came onto him. The Maiden was unawakened. She was weak and her power was hidden, even to herself. Ghirahim would never have sensed it if he hadn’t been looking. It was buried too deep; harnessing it now would be like pulling up the entire system of the Deku Tree’s roots through only one sprout.
Ghirahim was outraged. Livid. Incensed. He wanted to tear his claws into something. So close. So close. She was right here, on her knees before his Master’s Seal, nothing between them but her pathetic weak human flesh. And yet, it was all worthless.
Ghirahim swung away, throwing up his arms and tossing all the power he had amassed into the sky. It shook the air like a pressurized boom of thunder, red diamonds spiraling madly in a broken mass, but he paid it no mind.
“G-Ghirahim?” the Spirit Maiden asked, as he stormed a few paces away before twisting on his heel and going the other direction pointlessly.
Her call made him remember his lie he had to maintain and kept him from going into a blind rage and tearing up everything he could get his fingers on. He stopped pacing and closed his eyes, taking deep breathes, clenching and unclenching his fists.
He remembered what he’d overheard from the prayers of the Shiekah; the goddess wouldn’t weaken herself irrevocably. There were sacred locations speckled throughout the Surface, protected by temples, that would purify and enhance holy magic. The Sacred Springs.
Ghirahim had ventured to them before, out of curiosity and hopes of discovering more power to free his Master, but the locations were solidly barred to him with holy magic from Hylia herself. While it was frustrating that he couldn’t contaminate the waters the dragons used to heal themselves, in the end the Springs were of little threat. He had summoned monsters to patrol the temples, just to make things difficult for his enemies, and thought little else of it.
Now, though…he would have to take the Spirit Maiden to the very places he wouldn’t be able to reach her. Let her go from his own grasp.
He closed his eyes and rubbed at the corners of his eyebrows for a moment, considering. If he kept up this farce, she might willingly return to him, provided the Springs didn’t revive too much of her memory, which might very well happen. Not to mention, he may have to keep the lie up for days. Ghirahim wasn’t the best at warping with another person, and the Maiden’s power, small as it was, would likely destabilize his teleportation magic. He doubted he could warp thirty feet with her without getting exhausted. Which meant they would have to walk.
He didn’t want to do that. He already had gotten distracted around her.
(And was already growing fond of her presence).
But what other choice did he have? She was useless to him in this state. He couldn’t just give up. In order to revive his Master, he needed her in a purified state.
Ghirahim held back a groan even as he formulated a plan, his mind skipping through ideas like stones above Lake Floria, some plunking below the surface and a few sailing across.
“Ghirahim?” the girl asked behind him again.
Ghirahim took a breath, and then gave a show of a great sigh.
“I’m so sorry my dear,” Ghirahim said, turning to face her and folding his hands behind his back. He glanced to her and away as if anxious. “I haven’t been entirely honest with you.”
She leaned away a little. “About what?”
“You see,” Ghirahim turned and began pacing again, much more calm in appearance though he was still internally fuming, “When I first met you, I had a suspicion as to why you fell from the Sky and landed here on the Surface when no one else has in a great many years. I didn’t tell you, because I wasn’t sure, but now I am.”
She relaxed a little, her curiosity getting the better of her. “Sure of what?”
“I believe you are a being of magic,” he said, turning towards her again. He rested a hand against his chest. “Like me. Still human, of course—but greater.”
“Magic?” She raised a hand to cover her mouth, her brow knitting together in thought. He blue eyes became distant for a moment as she absorbed the information. “I’ve never…I’ve never even known magic was real. That can’t be right.”
“Ah, but that tornado that sucked you here wasn’t natural, now was it?” Ghirahim pointed out. He flicked his ear, earring jingling. “Obviously your abilities haven’t manifested yet, but when I tried to perform my spell, your magic—” or lack thereof, “—interfered with mine. I wasn’t able to complete the spell. Forgive my, ahem,frustration. I’m rather particular about my enchantments.”
“Okay,” the Spirit Maiden said slowly. She was relaxing more, but still looked unsure, a hand curled against her chest. “But what does that all mean? Does that mean you can’t help me?” Her shoulders drew in with disappointment and worry, even fear at being trapped with no way home.
“Of course I will still help you,” Ghirahim jumped in smoothly. “But it will be more difficult, I’m afraid. We will have to go to a magical location, a spring—maybe two, even—and it is no easy journey. Of course I will accompany you, but it will delay your return home. I can’t apologize enough for the inconvenience.” He made a show of wilting, looking guilty and downtrodden, like one of those little Kikwi when they were upset.
“It’s alright.” The girl stood up and brushed off her skirts, since the ritual could no longer be successfully performed. The dark magic under the Seal seemed to boil with rage beneath them as she walked over to Ghirahim. “You can’t help it. Really, I should be thanking you. I would have no idea what to do or where to go without you.”
“I’m sure you could figure it out, you seem to be a resilient girl,” he reassured automatically. He extended his arm again. “Shall we depart?”
She wound her arm around his as before and gave him a little smile. “I guess I’ll get to explore the Surface after all.”
He smiled kindly at her and resisted the urge to scream. “Indeed.”