Chapter Text
“When there is a call to action, someone must be there to make things right. I’ll be that person.” - Jin Kazama
A young boy in green resided in the confines of the labyrinth that was his home, staring at the gridded structure of the wooden doors, where the light from outside painted it in white.
Just what could be out there?
Passing it could be an adventure waiting for only him to walk the path of…
Just how could he miss out?
At night, he'd strap on his brown boots, destined to be guided by a blue fairy of luminescence.
He'd stride cautiously through the bamboo forests, and ancient stone fortresses with fallen walls from what he could only assume to be the battles from long ago.
Yet, his home remained untouched.
Through the lakes that flowed through the green, he found solace. The rocks he threw bounced off its surface, doomed to fall into the water it would now stay in, but it never left the gaze of the boy.
Nothing could leave the soul.
But there was always one thing he could never gather the courage to persevere through.
A rocky formation that had an opening basked in darkness.
A cave.
Even with the persistence of his destined fairy, he merely turned back home, resuming his normality.
But tonight, he brought forth his self-made torch, and marched back into the darkness to face the void.
Here he was.
Step.
One step forward.
Step.
Another.
His mind threw itself into a frenzy, and all he could do was close his eyes.
….
A silence…
But in truth, there wasn’t.
The whispers of the flame, and the radiance of the fairy, made him return to reality.
And when he did, he couldn’t believe this feeling.
The flame pushing against the darkness, while also creating shadows of his own with the torch. The feeling of courage that burned brighter with every step, and every tunnel the cavern threw at him. Growing deeper into the maze, he'd find puzzles and ancient sigils, all of which he reigned victorious against.
The Courage… of walking.
In the end, when the fairy beckoned the warning of the day, the boy wasn't listening. Slumped against a nearby boulder, his mind came to a realization.
This would merely be… another home for him in these lands.
𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐅𝐄, 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐑𝐀 𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐑!
𝑶𝒏 𝒂 𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒂𝒔 𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆?!
It was dark within the forest he walked in, but he wasn't afraid. Missions, whether big or small, sometimes required traveling in deep and dark places.
For Cloud, this was the occasion. He tightened his his grip on his buster sword, eyes darting left and right to each subtle movement and sound.
On this night, it didn't seem like there was going to be anything to attack him. The Spirits of the Night, which held a golden, misty look that brightened up the darkness, weren't present, but that was only because Cloud was carrying a tomb with him–one that held back any malevolent spirits. But in some cases, some spirits were too strong to be held back…
At that possibility, Cloud simply smiled.
I can handle that, he thought.
And finally, after walking through this forest for a long time, he finally came across what he was looking for.
A wooden structure that stood on four legs, which, inside, held a special object.
Seeing it, Cloud picked up his codex, and called.
“This object, I've found where it's located. I'll be back soon.”
“Good to hear, Cloud.”
Unfortunately..
When he opened the wooden structure..
“Hey… where the hell…”
Nothing was in there.
He searched all around the wooden structure–even going as far as to search the trees nearby, but there was nothing.
So, he sighed as he picked up his codex once again.
“Yeah, so… Nothing's here.”
“What?”
“Nothing's here. No sign of the object.”
“Well, I suggest you keep looking.”
“You want me to stay out here? Really? With all these damn Spirits–”
“Your mission is to collect the object. It's not the rules I made, it's just the one you have to follow for now.”
Cloud sighed once more, “Yeah yeah, got it.”
The person whom he called hung up, and Cloud stood there for a moment.
Maybe I should’ve laid off on taking this mission. He wondered.
Does that hand think I'm some kinda hero that he actually accepted my request? Huh, low and high standards.
Well, at least it's for a decent price.
He would then begin to search for the object, clasping his hands together, his blue eyes now glowing a bright yellow.
Now, he could see traces, thousands of them all around. The energy from some were too small, while others were too great, but to his right, those traces…. human traces…
That's where it's the strongest.
I'll just–
His eyes caught something from behind. it was a towering figure, standing at least ten feet tall, crafted from twisted blackened wood and jagged shards of glass that reflected light in harsh, fractured patterns. The wood, charred to a deep ebony, symbolized the destruction often wrought by anger, while the glass shards represented the sharp, cutting pain of grief.
The Spirit of Grief…
The spirit's face was a haunting mask, half obscured by a veil of tattered crimson fabric that billowed around it like smoke. One side of the mask was contorted in a fierce snarl, its eyes blazing with a ferocious intensity.
“Why… why…” it asked constantly.
Instinctively, Cloud brung his sword forth, not expecting much trouble considering that the tomb he held weakened the spirit severely.
“I dunno, but can I ask you, "why"?” He asked, furrowing his brows, “Why did you decide to come at such a bad time, you idiot?”
He sat in the darkness, all along, his fee-flowing and whimsy vibrating tousled blonde hair waving in the non-existent, or perhaps, unseen wind. He wore a long-sleeved brown shirt he wore underneath a light green tunic only that made the heat worse, brown trousers, brown boots that barely reached up to his knees.
Despite it being all black, it was all familiar to him. After all, this dream had been going on for months. He knew what it was–what rested beyond the darkness. Right in front of him, was the great sword that was engraved deeply into the earth, surrounded by a series of large, cracking stones.
The master sword–its metal shimmering, acting as the star in this eternal night. Such an amazing and rare sight, surely any warrior would grab it and relish in its power and glory, slash through the darkness of the world, and bring forth light, becoming a hero.
But, that desire was not his. It never was–so he shook his head, and looked back, the deep darkness staring back at him.
He knew how this “thing” would end. It was always the same. He predicted that, in fifteen seconds, a triangle, made up of three triangles–all of which glowed in a yellow light, would arrive. When it eventually did, all it did was hover before him, almost as if it was staring at him–as if… it was him.
That very triangle was engraved into his right palm. Oh, how he hated staring at that. Every time he did, he would instinctively gag, and unfortunately in this made up realm of unconsciousness, there was no glove or bandage to cover it up.
The floating triangle would then zoom past him, leaving small particles of shimmering light to fall onto the ground and onto his shoulder. He turned, and there it was, hanging above the sword–it's unfathomable light shining in and out, almost as if it was calling out to him.
But, once again, he rejected it. Shaking his head, and staring at his feet.
However, something was different this time. Usually, the dream would end here… but, something strange happened, and even if it was just for a moment–it shook Link to his very core..
A name was spoken–seemingly a cry for help, but its essence was buried beneath constant gibberish… All he knew was that, whatever this name was, it started with the letter “Z”.
And with that, the dream had ended, and he opened his eyes–the beautiful feel of the sun and the morning striking him with nothing but the force of a delightful brightness
When will I stop having that dream? He asked himself as he sat up, staring about the open field he was in.
Oh, right… it’s that troublesome spirit.
Spirits–they were everywhere.
Within the grass, acting as long, white slobs that radiated with colorful lights. Link could see them–he could touch them. He smiled as he did.
“Good morning, fellow spirits,” he said, attempting to touch one of the spirits–his hand only faded through them, however. “Ha, you always fade away.” he grinned, then sighed.
As the wind blew softly, he could see wind spirits, which took the form fleeting, light blue strings, glowing of light.
He simply smiled at them.
But, he could only wonder… Why couldn’t he see the dream spirit?
Everyone else in the world could… Perhaps, here in Hyrule, it was the opposite? No way.
To see a spirit, you had to actually try to see it–with a power that everyone contained deep inside of their soul. It was the same for everyone. Was he not trying hard enough? But, that couldn’t be.
What’s going on?
But, he didn’t let it get to him too much. After all, he had much to do today, as he did nearly everyday. Strangely enough, the bridge between warning and needing seems to cross each other all of the time.
He remembered; there was a Pokemon in the forest beyond the hill behind him. He couldn’t exactly make out what it was, but he knew it was the color yellow–hence, why he decided to call it a yellow dedenne.
So, he stood up on his two feet, stretching his arms overhead and yawning. In front of him was something amazing. A chain of mountain peaks that stretched on further than the eye could see, and extended out until it kissed the high places of the Earth.
With them were circular networks–clumps of tall, lively trees, with the small, floating tree spirits that took the form of small, brown circles, with a spiral on top of them. Some wept, some even whispered, but most of them kept silent.
Some others were getting into some sort of tangle with the other wind spirits–in which, the wind spirits would win and ultimately fly past them, leaving the tree spirits angered.
Ah, the beauty of the natural world–how he adored it. It was the perfect antidote–what he needed after that dream he dearly hated.
“Welp, I think it's time for me to head out.”
But could he really do so when there was an obvious problem from afar?
Upon standing up, his gaze caught a glimpse of a restless hill spirit to his left.
Hill spirits were usually always asleep, hence their closed eyes and mouth mixing in with the grass, but it seemed this one was awake and angry. It’s eyes were opened, and it’s mouth was agape, and more importantly, it was… weeping?
Why is that? Link wondered.
Did something awaken it, but how could that be?
No one else but me is here…
Oh, whatever, It’s in need of saving.
Listening to his soul, Link rushed over to the hill. Once he arrived, his eyes met the dark eyes of the hill, so empty without a soul.
Link knew that it wasn't true, that it did have a soul. But the void... oh, the void—something he couldn’t bare to look at, but his body was obligated to feel it.
“What angers you, hill spirit?”
The hill spirit would then speak in a deep, distorted voice.
“Someeeoneeee… someeethinggg… woke me upp.” The hill spoke in weeps as well. “I can no longerrrr go back to sleeeppp… Wha–whaat is happeniiinggg?”
“Don't worry, hill spirit.” Link said in a reassuring tone. “You're just awake. It's no big deal… here, I know exactly what will put you back to sleep. Some music.”
He pulled out his old, blue ocarina, and started playing a soothing tone.
The soothing melody of the ocarina floated gently through the air, wrapping the listeners, the spirits, in a warm embrace. Its soft, lilting notes danced like a gentle breeze, evoking images of tranquil landscapes and serene moments. Each breath through the instrument created a calming atmosphere, transporting those who listened to a peaceful, dreamlike state, where worries faded and harmony reigned.
Link's own soul felt at peace every time he did this.
And as all the spirits stopped and danced to the beautiful song, the hill spirit's fate would be no different. Its weeping stopped when the song had ended, and its soul felt at peace. The song had moved him so much, that his frown turned a wide, calm smile.
“thankk… youuu…”
“It’s okay now, spirit. Rest your soul.” He said, softly.
As the hill closed its eyes, Link smiled.
These spirits… they truly are me.
He thought, giving the hill one more look before walking off...
𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐇𝐘𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐈𝐀, 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐃!
The boy of sixteen years of age, living in the travesty of earth that was the forest. Pokémon here relished in his presence, for he was their savior. A protector who they may have only seen once, yet remembered for the rest of their lifespan.
Pokémon who carried wild intentions with the Hylian opposed him at nearly every abandoned castle he arrived at for supplies.
But when death stared him right in the face, and there was absolutely no other option. He'd closed his eyes, unveiled his bow of wood… and let the arrow fly.
And then, came the feast.
"....It had to mean something...
All of this suffering… this opposition…”
At nights where the campfires crackled, taking pride in being the only sound, he'd stare at the moon. At times, he'd sword he'd seen an angry face on it.
As he stared, he could only make a suggestion. “If you're there, Hylia… please take care of the souls that I… that fell victim to my bow.”
And now...
Today was a new day.
The same dream.
The same nagging in his head.
But the spirits were all over.
And with their smiles, he'd rush towards the forest without hesitation, interconnected with the wind as he passed by numerous spirits and oversaw the grandiose landscapes beyond the chamber of mountains. All with a smile...
....And no worry about his odd future.
ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴀʟᴇ ᴏꜰ ʜᴇʀᴏɪꜱᴍ. ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴀʟᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴏʏ ᴡʜᴏ ᴡᴀꜱ ꜱᴏᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇᴄᴏᴍᴇ ʟᴇɢᴇɴᴅ. ʙᴏʀɴ ᴡɪᴛʜ ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ, ᴘʀᴏᴍɪꜱᴇᴅ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ. ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ɪᴍᴘᴏʀᴛᴀɴᴛʟʏ… ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴏᴜʟꜱ ᴡɪᴛʜɪɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ᴋɴᴏᴡɴ ᴀꜱ "ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ᴏꜰ ʟɪɢʜᴛ." ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ꜱᴛʀᴜɢɢʟᴇꜱ, ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴛʀɪᴜᴍᴘʜꜱ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴀʟʟ.
𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑪𝒀𝑪𝑳𝑬 𝑶𝑭 𝑺𝑷𝑰𝑹𝑰𝑻𝑺!
Chapter 1.
End.