"He's the deadliest swordsman in all of Hyrule. The most skilled. He wields a blade of legend. You should be protecting me from him." By the time those words were uttered, it was already too late. The princess kept a wary eye on the half-eaten apple that he had set back down on his bedside writing desk. He seemed oblivious to the twisted symbolism of it all. Forbidden fruit. The poisoned apples of the fairytales that their governess read to them as children. Could he really be so blind? The people rejoiced in the streets of Castle Town. They made gracious offerings in the plowing fields of the southern provinces, nestled against the far stretches of Faron Woods. The Kingdom of Hyrule celebrated the newfound peace after the plight of the Twili, and the final death of Ganondorf. They looked to the skies and they saw a god. He became a vessel for their torment. He grieved for them. He carried their burden on his shoulders. The weight of that weapon, of which had singed its mark deeply into the palm of his hand, would never leave him. The hushed voices of the scorned spirits resonated within the blade, their whispers lilting and lamenting in his ears. Those damned voices dissipated everytime that seraph prince held him in his soft gaze.
4 parts