Day One: Part 1

[Illidan Stormrage]

Link's eyes, wide and wet, looked out over the horizon. A cold wind whipped his loose blonde hair but it dug especially deep into his back, where once a sword and shield warmed him. He tried to swallow, but his throat scratched, dry and desolate. His gloved hands touched the collar around his neck, forced on him as if he were some common dog. A red bulb lit up on its front, and went out when he took his hand away.

Numbness enveloped him. He could barely think straight. Finding out that he was in a death tournament was horrifying enough. Link killed, but only those who were evil. Monsters that swarmed the innocent, demonic spawn that threatened the world, they deserved the edge of his blade. He was a protector of the weak, of those who could not do so themselves. He protected the lives that would otherwise be extinguished without him.

Now he would kill for the sport of it.

His eyes stung against the wind that assaulted his eyes, but he did not blink as he looked at his feet. All he could think about was the weight stolen from his back. The Master Sword had been confiscated, along with his Hylian Shield and bow and arrows. He breathed erratically as he recalled the guards lumbering over to him, the metal collar in hand, demanding the pinnacle of his strength from him. He remembered the chill that sunk into his blood as they reached out for them, and the utter hopelessness of his ignored pleas. Even Ganondorf had given him a pitying look. How he debased himself, begged to hold onto them for the tournament.

And if that wasn't enough, they blindfolded him and led him off onto a steel machine that whirred in an ear thumping cacophony unlike anything he had heard before. He remembered, in the dark and chained to his seat, how hard he fought back the building anxiety, rising in his chest like a mighty wave, crashing relentlessly against his composure. Scrunching his face, sobs yearning to burst out of his tightly pressed lips, he tried to picture Hyrule. The rolling green fields, the open blue skies, the crystal blue rivers. But every time he visualised those stunning vistas, the mechanical bird shivered or thrummed and he was sent crashing back into his tormented reality.

The only friendly presence in this entire excruciating ordeal was his greatest enemy. How would he stop Ganondorf when he finally turned on him?

A mirthless chuckle left his chapped lips. How had he forgotten? The notion that he had allied with the Gerudo king tightened his chest. What utter nonsense. In any other situation, Link and Ganondorf would have battled by now, fighting with every iota of energy and strength they had, until one was the victor and the other the fallen. Now they were going to work together? The hero and the villain, watching each others backs?

Link scoffed, sandpaper grating against sandpaper. All of his ethics, his morals, anything that signaled who he truly was, had been buried and forgotten for the sake of survival. He was no better than a wild animal.

A sack sat at his feet. He stared at it absently, unsure of what was even in it. What did it matter? It wasn't the Master Sword. He felt a shiver skate over his skin, completely unrelated to the wind. A master swordsman without a sword was ... what? An easy target?

His fingers quested into his tunic and pulled out one of the few items still in his possession; the Ocarina of Time. He felt wetness line his eyes as he brought it to his mouth. In shaky, unsteady breaths, he played the sweet instrument, hoping Saria's Song would bolster his strength, maybe restore some faith in himself. As the last note withered on the breeze, he put the ocarina away. He felt no different.

Finally, slowly, giving in to the anxiety, he closed his eyes in a long blink. Tears welled at the corners, two single drops, and slinked down his face. His lungs clenched with each breath, a heaviness crushing his stomach.This was not who he was. The Hero of Time was a saviour, not an indiscriminate murderer. And yet now, he knew he had no choice. It was only a matter of time before he killed another simply to stay alive, to tick off another competitor in a violence drenched horror show, sinless blood on his hands. Otherwise, he would die. The Triforce of Courage would be lost. Ganondorf would be free to claim it, and no other would rise to stop him.

How I wish Shade could be here right now.

Link took in a deep breath, his glassy eyes watching the clouds skirt the sky, and breathed out slowly. Link bent down, lifted the satchel and threw it over one shoulder. He picked a random direction and started walking, the wind shearing the tears from his face, leaving two damp streaks upon his cheeks, stealing away the last shreds of innocence

From that first step, Link was no longer a hero. He had chosen.

He was a murderer.