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Zelda looked out over the city as she was carried by litter to the Temple of Hylia. It was the first time she had been out of the castle in almost two weeks, and Castletown was in a worse state than she had thought.



The stench was every bit as unbearable as before, even if the grizzly scenes of battle and bloodshed had long-since been cleaned up and the bodies carted away. Many houses were boarded up. It looked like the raw materials used for barricading the streets during the siege had been repurposed to build makeshift shelters and tents. But there were still so many people out on the streets, and piles of garbage and refuse littered the walkways and alleys. Zelda held her lavender-scented silk closer to her face, resolving to do something — anything about this mess. It both infuriated and saddened her to see her people living in such squalor.



Her procession reached the temple and she stepped down from the litter, walking the short way to meet High Priestess Vestele at the stone steps. The middle-aged woman was garbed in a flowing white dress with her white-blonde hair pulled into a tight bun. Above them, the magnificent bell tower of the temple loomed.



“Our queen, the blessed champion of the Holy Mother, graces us with her presence,” Vestele intoned reverently to a chorus of bells held by a dozen monks standing on either side of her. The incense from their lamps wafted and curled through the air with a passing breeze. Vestele descended the steps and offered her hand.



Zelda took it with a curtsy. “It is my pleasure, Your Holiness. Thank you for receiving me. We have much to discuss.”



“But of course. Please — after you, Your Grace,” Vestele said, gesturing to the abbey.



Zelda nodded, taking the lead. Her guard fanned out to cover the steps. Link and her two Sheikah bodyguards took up watch by the archway leading to the abbey as Zelda passed inside. She would prefer them at her side to be sure, but weapons were not permitted anywhere inside the temple grounds, and neither were soldiers of any variety.



She and the priestess continued alone through a hanging garden featuring rows of stone statues, depicting the forms previous monarchs and high priestesses. Zelda looked for it, but Father's figure was nowhere to be found.



“It has been commissioned, though it is not yet complete,” Vestele said, following her gaze. “I will be sure to send for you once it arrives.”



“Thank you. I look forward to seeing it,” Zelda lied, with an amiable smile.



An abbot met them as they reached the vestibule and lead them inside. Zelda's heart fluttered in her chest as she went over the words again in her mind. She was not by any means looking forward to this meeting, and it approached nearer with every step. Vestele caught her eye, and Zelda looked away.



Finally they reached a sitting room that had been prepared for the occasion. Zelda entered and took a seat; Vestele after her. The abbot closed the door behind them, and at last they were alone.



The priestess relaxed into her seat. “You're a bundle of nerves, dear,” she said.



“I know,” Zelda said. She tried not to blush. “Can you blame me?”



“Tea?” Vestele reached for the kettle on the table and poured two cups, offering Zelda one.



“Thank you.” Zelda took the offered cup.



“I'm afraid we're fresh out of nightshade, or I'd offer some,” Vestele said.



Zelda choked, fighting to keep herself from spewing the hot liquid over her host. “Pardon?”



“Just a bit of humor to lighten the mood," the priestess said. She laughed, and Zelda joined her uneasily.



Zelda set her cup aside. She had lost her train of thought now, and was unsure how to begin. “I've been meaning to speak with you for some time now,” she began awkwardly, “concerning the events of that day. I find myself in the most precarious situation. On one hand, the entire army saw me combat the hordes with Hylia's might. On the other…”



Vestele shifted in her seat, moving closer. “What's she calling herself?”



Zelda cocked her head, looking quizzically to the priestess.



“I know it wasn't Hylia who granted you that boon, dear,” Vestele said. “So who is it? What is she calling herself?”



“I'm afraid you're mistaken,” Zelda replied, her heart pounding in her ears. “The Holy Mother spoke to me herself, through—”



“Nonsense,” Vestele said, waving a hand dismissively. “Hylia's been dead for ages. The entity that contacted you was—”



“Legacy,” Zelda half-muttered. But how did she… ages?



Vestele regarded her idly. “Odd. That one doesn't fit the pattern.”



“I'm sorry—pattern?” Zelda's mind refused to work.



Vestele continued casually. “I can't tell you how much I've been dreading this conversation. I've been fretting over how best to get in touch with you — and whether any of our efforts would be for naught. I'm glad you've come to me, though. It means she's willing to bargain. They can be quite conniving — though I suppose this one seems benevolent enough.” She sighed. “It's hard to believe something like this is happening in my lifetime.”



Zelda buried her face in her palms, bracing herself for yet another world-shattering revelation. She really should be used to these by now. “What is it?”



“Before we get to that, I need you to relay to me what this Legacy has told you.”



“Vestele, this is… I… I can't do this,” Zelda said, with strained laughter. “It's too much. I'm teetering on the edge here. Emotionally compromised doesn't even begin to describe it. Please, just… Fi? Some help?”



“Fi?” the priestess asked, sitting upright. “How is it you—”



“Hello, Mistress,” Fi said, materializing from the aether.



“By the Mother…” Vestele gaped, reaching for her spectacles. She rose from her seat and inspected the ethereal entity, circling around. With care, she reached out and ran her fingers through Fi's form, leaving wisps of chromatic vapor in her wake. Her form repaired itself just as quickly.



“…How can this be?”



“I can confirm that it was indeed Hylia who contacted Zelda,” Fi said, seeming unfazed by Vestele's prodding. “Though, it is also true that Hylia is no more. Priestess — I can only surmise that your belief stems from an event that happened many ages ago. While it is true that Hylia was defeated and forced to withdraw from the world, her death was a more recent event. She gave the last of her power to save your people from the Blin.”



“Astounding!” Vestele said in awe. She was in tears. “Esteemed emissary, what more can you tell us of the Holy Mother?”



Zelda only gawked. She supposed it was somewhat comforting that Legacy's story was not a lie. Or at least, that seemed to not be the case. She had only Fi's word on the matter — but at the same time, Vestele seemed to know something about Fi too, providing some measure of confirmation.



“Regretfully, little more information is available to me at this time,” Fi said.



Vestele deflated, returning to her seat and stowing her spectacles away. “I am getting on in age,” she said. “I suppose I should know better than to get my hopes up by now.”



“How is it you know about Fi?” Zelda asked.



The priestess looked to her and made to speak, but then shook her head and turned her attention back to the specter. “We'll get to that. First: esteemed emissary, who is Legacy?”



“Legacy is the entity Hylia entrusted with the last of her power,” Fi replied helpfully, spinning in place.



Vestele pursed her lips. “Legacy is not a Fae, then?”



“A Fae?!”



“Negative,” Fi said. “Legacy is not a Fae.”



“Oh, good," Vestele said. "That's a relief. What is it Legacy desires?”



“Legacy wishes only to provide—”



“I'm sorry—Vestele?” Zelda said, losing patience. “We'll get to that in a moment. Legacy is no threat to us. Fi, that will be all for now — thank you.”



“As you wish, Mistress,” Fi said, vanishing just as abruptly as she appeared.



“Now,” Zelda said, turning back to the priestess. “What do Fae have to do with any of this?”



It was a long moment before Vestele gave her answer. She looked to be deep in thought. “They're something like castoffs,” she said finally. “Shells. Husks. Fragments of Hylia that broke off from what remained of her spirit, traveled through the Void, and made their way here to our world. Often they have her memories. Rarely do they care for us.”



Zelda puzzled through that. “But what connection do they have to… well, Fae? You know, like lore and folktales?” she asked.



“Hmm, where to begin?” Vestele said. “What do you know already?”



“I always assumed they were just stories and fables,” Zelda said frankly. “…But I do find it curious how abruptly those stories fell out of favor. According to my research, that is. Did something happen around the time of Arminel's Conquest?”



Vestele frowned. “You're not the first to make the connection. It's one of our greatest failings. We should have been more careful.”



“We?”



“The Faith, dear,” Vestele said. She gave a curt laugh. “Or rather the Seekers, if you want to be precise. And bear in mind — I had no part in those decisions. No more than your part in founding Hyrule.”



Zelda chewed on the words. “I thought the Seekers were—”



“Oh, they are,” Vestele interrupted. “That just wasn't their original purpose.”



“Vestele?”



“Hm?”



Intellectually, Zelda knew the High Priestess was not the one deserving of her anger. She tried to hold on to that, tried not to let too much bite into her words. “Please, don't take this the wrong way. But how dare the clergy perpetuate such a lie to our people all this time? If you believed Hylia to be dead — then why?!”



“It's a fair question,” Vestele said, grimacing. “And one I had to wrestle with myself. I… sympathize with your anger. But one finds themselves in a position like ours, and we're forced to choose. On one hand there is tradition, and stability. On the other… who knows what chaos the realm would be plunged into, if they knew? I always held that the core teachings remained true, regardless of Hylia's absence. And if that's so, then what are a few harmless lies if they give people hope? Especially in the face of a bleak and unforgiving world such as ours.”



Zelda wasn't sure what to make of that. She didn't like it, but she also couldn't fault the reasoning. “I suppose it isn't important right now,” she said, unwilling to admit defeat. “What can you tell me of the Fae? You seemed genuinely worried earlier, and that gives me pause.”



“…You know how I said they were like fragments of Hylia, cast off from her essence?”



Zelda nodded.



Vestele shifted, curling her feet under her legs. Zelda found herself mimicking the motion.



“Keep in mind that we don't know all that much. But the Fae… something about being disconnected from Hylia's spirit deprives them of the nourishment they need to survive. And so they feed on our essence instead.”



Zelda felt a chill crawl up her spine. The priestess continued.



“As I said, not all of them are malicious. We were saved by one once — one calling herself Lucia. You would know the event as ‘The Reaffirmation.’ At the height of the Gerudo Wars, she came to us claiming to be Hylia herself. With her aid… we cast out the Gerudo. And their dark god.”



“Their what?!”



She leaned in closer, voice barely above a whisper. “Their dark god. Morudo Geira.”



Zelda shook her head. Somehow the name sounded familiar, though she had never heard it before and was sure she had never come across it in her studies.



Vestele waved a hand. “That isn't of any concern right now. Where was I?”



“Lucia?” Zelda ventured. “Feeding off our souls?”



The priestess nodded. “You asked after folklore? Well, if you view the stories from the right perspective, then you'll see it clearly enough. In the stories, Fae blessed villages in exchange for humble offerings. Yes?”



Zelda nodded hesitantly. “That doesn't sound so bad,” she said.



“No, it doesn't,” Vestele replied. “Not until you look closer. Not until you read the right accounts. Perhaps you've heard the tale of a man who dreamed of restoring Hyrule to its former glory? They say he lead the largest army ever assembled, and marched over the Plains of Ruin to retake our ancestral lands from the hordes once and for all.”



Zelda gasped. “No. Arminel?”



The priestess nodded. “The one and the same.”



Arminel's Conquest referred to the period of prolonged war against the Blin from around year 540 to 600 of the Forsaken Era. Despite sixty years of war, every gain by the general and his armies was offset by equal or greater losses. The costs were immense, and countless lives were lost.



“I'm going to guess he didn't die peacefully in his sleep, as the histories say?” Zelda asked.



“No,” Vestele said, shaking her head with a sad smile. “No, the truth is far more sinister. It wasn't dreams of glory that blinded the general to his folly. It was a Fae named Cyrae. She promised him victory in exchange for the souls of those he slew… and of those who died in battle. Over the years the general became increasingly obsessed with what he viewed as his destiny, sending his forces on ever riskier assaults in an effort to maintain her favor. But as you might guess, she never intended to allow the general his victory; she only desired sustenance. She was careful not to let the scales tip too far, knowing Arminel would never return home in defeat when victory seemed close at hand. Eventually the general was assassinated by his younger brother — the first Seeker — who learned of Cyrae and her treachery. He sealed the Fae in the spear he shoved through his brother's back, and there she remains to this day.”



They sat in silence as Zelda considered the tale. She had to admit it made more sense than the historical account, at least in light of everything else she now knew. She always wondered how a brilliant general could have been such an imbecile as to fight a losing war for sixty years…



“But that doesn't answer my question,” she said after a time. “What does that have anything to do with the folklore?”



Vestele shrugged. "I admit, Cyrae was one of the worst by far. Most Fae weren't so bad, to hear it told. That is, unless you consider desperate farmers being convinced to flay their children alive and drown them in their own blood out of fear of a bad harvest.”



Zelda shuddered. “Okay. I see your point.”



Vestele continued. “The Seekers were founded to find the Fae. All of them. To seal them, bind them, or destroy them where possible. Where not, they were locked away into mundane items and tossed into the ocean, or buried beneath the earth in deep chasms. And all records were destroyed, in hopes of preventing them from ever being found.”



“But I don't understand,” Zelda said, confused. “If you believed I was under the influence of a Fae, then why—”



“Need I remind you that you wear the Crown, Your Grace?” Vestele interrupted. “What could we have possibly done? We certainly considered our options, but any brash any action on our part would have thrown the kingdom into chaos just as surely. No. After your assault on the Blin all that was left was to hope for the best, and prepare for the worst.”



Zelda considered her words, contemplating how best to proceed.



“Hope,” she said at last. “You've used that word a few times now. What does it mean to you?”



Vestele studied her. “I suppose I haven't thought about it all that much. Odd, I know, coming from the High Priestess.”



“No. I don't think it's odd at all,” Zelda said. “…I just think you've lost yours.”



Vestele recoiled as if Zelda had slapped her.



She continued. “Hope, in your mind, is something for the common people. Am I right? Something to keep them toiling away in the fields when the harvest is bare. Something to spur young men to fight and die in service to their kingdom.”



“Your point?” Vestele replied sourly.



“Vestele. I get it,” she said. She rose from her chair and knelt before the woman, softening her voice and meeting her eyes. “I know what that's like. I've lost track of how many times my world has been upended in the last week alone. And I've lost… so much. As we all have. …But what if I told you that there was still hope? Hope for a better future. Hope to end the blights. Hope to see our people reclaim all that we've lost, and more?”



Vestele only scoffed. “I'd say I don't believe you.”