“Open your eyes...”
The voice pierced the black like a golden arrow. Where before there had been nothing but darkness and silence, suddenly there was light. Sound. Awareness.
“Open your eyes...”
Slowly, he obeyed the voice. The darkness gave way to a soft, blurry, blue light.
“Open your eyes.”
The light coalesced. Focused. He saw. What he saw, he was not sure, but he saw… something. A dome of strange metal and blue lights. Unfamiliar. Foreign.
“Wake up, Link.”
There was more than a dome. He was on his back, lying in a pool of softly glowing blue liquid. His back rested on a hard surface, leaving his face above the surface of the fluid. The strangely ethereal liquid began to drain, drawing away from his body and leaving him feeling chilled.
His eyes moved slowly at first, taking in the glowing dome, and then the larger chamber he was in. The ceiling and walls were some kind of stone or metal. They weren’t smooth. Instead, they were covered with swirling patterns. Ripples and wrinkles in the walls that formed circular shapes and strangely maze-like designs. Small lights interspersed around the chamber on the walls emanated a soft, orange light. They looked like stars in the night sky.
Slowly, he sat up, but as he did so, his body protested. He felt stiff. Heavy. He looked down at himself and absently noted that his body was unclothed. He was naked. He considered this, frowning. Why was he naked? He should be wearing clothes, shouldn’t he? His thoughts came sluggishly.
He swung his legs over the lip of the now-empty basin he had been lying in and eased himself out. Again, his body protested, as if it was not used to such simple acts as moving. Perhaps it wasn’t. Why was he in here? What was this place?
His feet touched the ground. Stone. Cold. His feet felt tender. Soft. He eased himself up to stand, and his spine popped and crackled audibly as he straightened. Once upright, he took better stock of himself. Two arms, two legs. Thin, yet muscular. He reached up, feeling at his head. Long hair fell down around his shoulders. He grabbed a lock of it and brought it to his face. Dirty blonde. All as it should be… right?
Where was he? Why was he here?
Who was he?
“Link.” The voice. The woman. She had called him that before. Was that his name? He whirled once again, hoping that he would see her this time. She continued in her gentle voice. “I know you must have many questions, and I promise that answers will come in time.” She sounded more distant now. Strained. “I have arranged for a guide to help you get started. Please, you must keep going.”
Stillness filled the cavern as the woman’s voice faded. He finally found his voice again, speaking rapidly. “I… hello?” he called. “Please, are you there? Where am I? I don’t—I don’t remember!” Silence. He continued. “You said Link! Is that my name? What’s happening?” But she did not respond, despite his pleas. She had left him, it would seem.
He—Link, she had called him—closed his eyes tightly, shutting out the light streaming into the cave. He couldn’t remember anything. Not his name, nor where he came from, nor where he was or how he came to be there. How could that be? He remained still for several minutes as he strained against the hole in his mind where he felt his memories should be. Finally, he latched upon the last thing the voice had said. A guide. He had to find the guide.
Link’s eyes shot open and he took a step forward, and then another. He entered the light streaming in from the cave’s entrance and lifted his hand to shield his eyes, blinking rapidly as they adjusted. As the light grew less oppressive, he found himself at the foot of a grassy hill. His eyes followed the hill as it rose until it terminated in what appeared to be a cliff. Beyond that…
His eyes widened, and he broke into another run, climbing the hill and reaching its zenith. His breath caught as a lump of emotion lodged in his throat. Before him stretched majesty. The land before him was lush and green, with forests and plains as far as the eye could see. Distant in the west were a series of brown plateaus, and north from there, a mountain range covered in snow and ice. To the northeast, hazy in the distance, a massive-looking volcano stood, magma forming jagged red-orange lines down its sides. A verdant expanse of grass, hills, and bodies of water lay between it all, surrounded on all sides by mountains and ridges. Directly north, across the field, stood a solitary castle, with a central spire rising above several others.
Link felt as though a bucket of cold water had been overturned onto his head, leaving him chilled to the core. He took a step back, but his heel reached the edge of the steeple room. He briefly thought of the sword on his back, but knew at once that it would be useless against this being. This ghost.
“The Great Calamity was merciless. It devastated everything in its path, lo, a century ago.” King Rhoam turned to face Link, his expression distant. “It was then that my life was taken from me.”
“I don’t—” Link began. He cleared his throat and licked his lips. “I don’t understand. What is the Calamity? Are you the guide? The guide that the woman promised me?”
Something in King Rhoam’s expression changed. It great sharper, and his eyes met Link’s. “I have remained here ever since I died, in spirit form. I… did not know why for a long time. I assumed that, perhaps, it had been because of the royal family’s connection to this place. Our history. She… eventually spoke to me as well.”
The king turned, moving closer to the broken wall. His legs did not move to propel him; he floated, instead. “I did not think it wise to overwhelm you so soon after you awoke. I feared your memory would be too fragile. So, rather than that, I assumed a temporary, less… alarming form.” He looked out at the distant castle again. “Forgive my deception. I see now that your mind is still quite strong.”
Link stepped up next to the king, looking up into his face. “I can’t remember anything,” he said, a note of desperation entering his voice. “If you can tell me something—anything—to help me…”
King Rhoam looked down at Link, his expression growing increasingly somber. “I shall tell you what happened one hundred years ago, Link. Perhaps hearing of it shall awaken something within you.”
