The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess Novelization

As Link ventured deeper into Death Mountain, a wave of furnace-hot air rolled over him, searing his lungs with every breath. A fiery red glow soon bled into the tunnel ahead, growing brighter with each step. He emerged into an open cavern. At its edge, a sheer drop revealed a churning pool of magma below. Link steadied himself. A natural bridge had once spanned the gap, but the lava had slowly devoured it. Only narrow platforms remained, scattered across the divide. At some point, the Gorons had reinforced them with heavy metal plates. It was crude, uneven work, but enough to make crossing possible. Nothing’s ever easy. Link edged closer to the drop, his gaze fixed on the first platform. One misstep, and it would be over. At least it’d be quick, he thought dryly. Link drew in a steady breath, then leapt. He landed hard on the nearest platform, boots ringing against metal. The heat hit him immediately, heavier than before. No wonder the Gorons are made of rock, he realized. How else could anyone survive this? After several more careful jumps, Link reached the far side of the gap. He let out a breath and wiped the sweat from his brow. One room down. A hundred more to go. Magma seeped from fractured walls, and fumaroles roared to life. The cavern groaned under the strain, each tremor threatening to bring it all crashing down. The Fused Shadow had left nothing untouched. The cavern widened abruptly, opening into a great chamber that stretched far beyond the reach of the tunnel. A towering mining crane rose from a lake of churning magma below, surrounded by a network of metal walkways that creaked and groaned with each earthquake. They stretched outward to circular wooden doors embedded along the cavern’s walls. At the centre, crates of ore sat scattered around the control unit. Some were split open, others hastily abandoned. The scene bore all the signs of a sudden evacuation. From where he stood, most of the walkways lay just out of reach, leaving only one way forward. A narrow bridge led to a solitary door carved into the near wall. Link fixed his gaze ahead, refusing to look at the lava beneath him as he made his way across. The heat rose in waves as he stepped off the bridge and passed through the door beyond. The tunnel gave way to a smaller cavern, cluttered with abandoned mining equipment. Shadows clung to every corner. He advanced cautiously, unaware of the creature that slipped from the ceiling behind him. Just as it lunged, Midna appeared and shoved him aside. Claws sliced through the space where his neck had been. Link twisted around, sword already in hand, and faced his attacker. It was some kind of lizard – one Link did not recognize. Its long, slender body gleamed with turquoise scales, and dull yellow eyes fixed on him without a trace of life. Its jaw parted, revealing rows of jagged teeth. Thick strands of saliva hung from its lip, and the stench of its breath hung heavy in the air. The lizard lunged with a terrible roar. Link rolled aside as its jaws snapped at his torso. He came up swinging, but his blade glanced off its scales with a harsh scrape. The creature reared back, chest swelling as it drew in breath. “Move!” Midna shouted. She barreled into Link, sending them both to the ground. A heartbeat later, a ball of fire tore past and melted the stone where he had stood. Before he could thank her, Midna rounded on him, her eyes blazing. “Are you stupid?” she snapped. “Stop being so clueless and pay attention!” The words stung Link stood and studied the creature. Its body was covered in armoured scales. Only its bright, fleshy tail was exposed. The lizard shifted, turning to face Link. He adjusted his stance, watching it as closely. I’ll have to make it slip. It’s only a lizard. I can outthink it. Fire spewed from the lizard’s jaws, forcing Link to raise his shield to deflect it. Heat washed over him. Still, he pressed forward, step by step, waiting. Then the flames faltered. Link shot into motion, diving beneath the creature’s claws and rolling to its flank. In one fluid motion, he turned and brought his sword down. The blade sheared through its tail, and a spray of dark blood followed. The lizard let out a piercing squeal as its body convulsed and seized. It folded, rolling until its pale underbelly laid bare. Link drove his sword deep into its stomach, pinning the beast to the earth. Silence settled over the cavern as Midna approached Link. She shook her head, her mouth pulling into a scowl as she vanished back into his shadow. Link exhaled slowly. Shame rose first, but it quickly twisted into frustration. If she thinks I’m so useless, he thought bitterly, why is she the one hiding? Link pressed deeper into the cavern, the oppressive heat weighing on him with every step. The next chamber offered a welcome respite. Cool air drifted through the cavern, and for the first time since entering the mountain, Link filled his lungs without pain. A shallow pool lay ahead, its surface dull and fouled by the stench of brimstone. Beyond it, a metal platform loomed, but the ladder to reach it had long since been torn away. Great…now what? Link stepped closer to the water, and suddenly, something yanked him upward. His sword and shield snapped upward, clinging to the ceiling as pain tore through his shoulders. He hung there, suspended above the foul water. Dammit! “Well, this is amusing,” Midna giggled from somewhere in the dark. Link ignored her and studied the platform across the room. The ore in the walls… It’s magnetic. That had to be it. With a grunt, he tore his shield free and pressed it against a jagged stalactite. It held. Good. Link did the same with his sword arm, pulling himself toward the platform. “Clever,” Midna said. “I suppose you’re occasionally capable of using that head of yours.” Inch-by-inch, Link dragged himself across the room, his arms burning from the effort. When he finally reached the platform, he wrenched his weapons free and dropped in a heap. Ow… He rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, waiting for the ache in his arms to fade. With a quiet grunt, he forced himself up, sheathed his weapons, and moved on. The next room was a stark contrast to the rest of the mines. The harsh stone gave way to smoother walls that were painted with faded tribal markings. A wooden walkway circled above, its supports still intact despite the ruin around it. At the back of the chamber – just beyond another sumo ring – a small statue held a crimson gemstone that shimmered faintly in the dim light. Time had worn the figure down so badly that its form was no longer recognizable. A small, elderly Goron waited at the centre of the ring. He barely reached Link’s belt. Leaning on a cane, he tilted his head up to meet his visitor’s gaze. “I thought I sensed a presence in the mines…” the Goron said, his voice deep and unsteady. “But what a surprise to find a young human.” “Are you one of the elders?” Link asked. The Goron nodded slowly. “I am. Gor Amoto, at your service.” “I’m Link. I’ve come to save your patriarch.” “Yes…word has reached me.” Gor Amoto smiled. “If Gor Coron placed his faith in you, then your heart must be true. Come, young one.” Gor Amoto led Link to a chest beneath the statue and knelt beside it, his arms trembling as he lifted the lid. Reaching inside, he withdrew a small golden shard. It was roughly triangular, its edges chipped and uneven. It caught the light with a faint, steady gleam. “This is one of the shards that forms the key to the chamber where Darbus is held.” Gor Amoto placed the shard in Link’s hand and closed his fingers around it. “My fellow elders hold the other two. Tread carefully, young hero. The mines beyond this chamber are overrun with wretched creatures.” “Thank you. I’ll be careful,” Link said. He secured the shard in a pouch at his belt, gave the elder a final nod, and made his way through the door on the room’s upper level. A long tunnel stretched ahead. At its end, the passage opened into the central mining chamber. From where Link stood, a narrow catwalk led to the crane’s control platform. Beyond it, a ramp climbed toward a door set high in the far wall. The Goron tribe’s industrial capacity was impressive. Link had never seen anything like it before. Back in Ordon, the village’s greatest technological marvel was its waterwheel. Here, enormous machines of iron and steel drove the mines with relentless efficiency. Link took a step, then jerked back as an arrow ripped past his face. He reacted instantly, drawing his weapons as a second shot slammed into his shield. His eyes darted upward, tracking the attack. Perched high on a cliff to his left, a Bulblin archer snarled down at him, its guttural barks echoing as it nocked another arrow. Bulblins… The hatred Link had buried began to stir again. He had believed the fiends would falter without a leader. A naïve assumption. Clenching his jaw, Link fixed his gaze on the catwalk ahead. Two Bulblins charged, clubs raised. He rushed them instead, driving one back with his blade. Turning sharply, he kicked the legs out from under the other as it moved to flank him. It crashed down in a tangle of limbs, the chaos protecting Link from the archer above. The standing Bulblin attacked quickly, but Link closed the distance, denying it room to strike. At arm’s length, he glanced past it, just in time to see the archer release another arrow. In one move, Link grabbed the Bulblin’s tunic and dragged it into the shot’s path. The arrow punched through the creature’s back, and it let out a sharp howl as it collapsed. Link leapt and drove his blade into its gut, kicking the corpse over the edge. The second Bulblin attacked from behind, but Link sensed its approach from the shift in the air. He turned just in time, raising his shield as the club came crashing down. The creature staggered, and Link sheared off one of its horns. It reeled back toward the edge of the catwalk, clutching the wound in stunned silence. Link moved to shove the Bulblin over the edge, but it snapped out of its daze and tackled him. Its knee pressed against his throat, stifling his breath. Link struggled beneath it, but the more he fought, the tighter the pressure became. His vision began to blur. His body warmed and dimmed as a strange, alluring drowsiness hugged him tight. But he refused to give in. Link’s hand found the severed horn beside him, and he drove it into the side of the Bulblin’s head. The light faded from the monster’s eyes. A faint gurgle escaped its throat before it slumped on top of him. Link coughed a ragged breath and pushed himself upright, just as another arrow cut through the air. He knocked it aside with his shield, but the impact dropped him to one knee. No more… Before the archer could loose another arrow, Link drew his boomerang and threw it. The Bulblin braced against the wall, but it was not enough. Cyclonic winds sung from the spinning weapon, tearing the enemy off its feet. It screamed as it was carried over the edge and plopped into the lava below. Link snatched the boomerang from the air. Those Bulblins were heading for Gor Amoto. Hopefully I bought him some time. A knot tightened in his chest. What if he was too late? If the King of Shadows saw the Gorons as a threat, the elders would be his first targets. Cut them down, and the tribe would fall into chaos. A sudden earthquake ripped through mines. The catwalk shuddered beneath Link, and he nearly went over the edge before catching himself. When the mountain finally stilled, he drew a sharp breath. I’m running out of time. Link reached the central platform and dusted to a halt. A Goron soldier sat slumped beside the control mechanism, his body riddled with arrows. Even in death, he looked so noble. He had not fallen without a fight. Bulblin bastards. Link growled. Wherever they went, they left destruction in their wake. They were cowards hiding behind numbers and cruelty. The day would come when they would answer for their crimes. Link gently closed the Goron’s eyes. He sighed and made his way up to the next level of the mining chamber. At the top, he pushed open the door and stepped into a cool, torchlit room. A stone bridge arched over a still pool, its surface reflecting the flickering light. On the far side, a massive metal gate barred the way forward. A broken lever jutted from the wall beside it, shattered by a fallen stalactite. A dead end, Link thought as Midna slipped free from his shadow. “The elder wouldn’t have led you this far for nothing,” she said. “There’s another way forward.” Link glanced at Midna, and an idea clicked. “You can pass through walls, right? Maybe there’s a lever on the other side of the gate.” “I’ll check.” Midna phased through the metal like a shadow. A moment later, the gate groaned and slid open, revealing a path beyond. Midna’s eye flickered in the black, followed by a familiar smirk as she drifted back toward him. “That’s twice you’ve used your brain today.” “Yeah, yeah…” Link rolled his eyes and strode past Midna. “Come on, let’s keep moving.” The passage narrowed, winding through the stone. Rusted tools and broken equipment littered the ground, long since abandoned. Link squeezed through a tight crevice – the leftover scar of a cave-in. He slowed as he caught sight of light ahead. Not the red glow of magma, or the flicker of torchlight. It was something softer. Sunlight. Link quickened his pace, breaking into a run as the tunnel transformed into a wide ravine. Sunlight spilled over him as soft breeze stirred his matted hair. He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, savouring the clean air. For a moment, he simply stood there. He had almost forgotten what the sun felt like on his skin. It was so relieving. Warm but soothing. Surrounded by sheer cliffs, the ravine resembled the flooded remains of an old quarry. A wooden boardwalk stretched out over the water, splitting in two near the centre. To the left stood a massive, gem-studded door. It was bound tight by golden chains and a heavy padlock. That’s where they’re keeping the patriarch. The only other exit lay across the ravine, where a smaller wooden door was set into the far wall. Link hopped onto the boardwalk, keeping the giant door’s position in mind as he moved toward the only open path. A flicker of movement ahead made him drop behind a cluster of empty crates. He peered out. Watchtowers crowned the cliffs, each manned by Bulblin sentries scanning the ravine below. They saw everything. Link sank lower. There were too many of them and no way to strike back. If they spotted him, he was dead. Here goes nothing… Link inched forward, keeping low and ducking behind the scattered debris for cover. Every step felt exposed, each creak of wood too loud, but no shouts came. No horn sounded. Somehow, he reached the door undetected. He slipped inside and descended once more into the broiling caverns of Death Mountain. For what felt like hours, Link trekked through a maze of abandoned caverns as the mountain trembled around him. He crossed paths with the occasional Bulblin, but they were not the true danger. The heat was. It pressed in from all sides, thick and suffocating, clawing at his senses the deeper he descended into the mines. It was only a matter of time before it took him down. Link passed through a vast grotto and into a network of interconnected tunnels that soon opened into an old pit mine. Rusted conveyor belts lined the walls, long since abandoned. A steel bridge stretched out over the pit, leading to a lone wooden door on the far side. When his boot struck something solid, Link looked down. His breath stopped. The ground was covered in bodies. Gorons and Bulblins lay where they had fallen, many maimed beyond recognition. Even in defeat, the Gorons had fought fiercely. For every one of them, five Bulblins lay scattered among them. Shaken, Link stood in silence among the dead. They had not known if their home could be saved, yet they had fought and died all the same. Would fate one day demand the same of him? He had never truly considered his own mortality, clinging instead to the belief that he would survive his journey. Even if that belief proved false, he could not turn from his path. He owed the dead that much. Link shuffled through the field of bodies. The air reeked of decay, thick enough to taste, and it turned his stomach. A pack of fire-breathing lizards tore at the remains, too consumed by their feast to notice him. Link could not bear to look. Reaching the bridge, Link crossed to the far side and pushed the door open. The chamber beyond mirrored Gor Amoto’s abode. Three Goron warriors stood watch, while an elder sat waiting within the sumo ring. He shared Gor Amoto’s age, but little else. His frame was tall and gaunt, his back bent beneath a sickly hunch. A protruding jaw revealed jagged teeth, and long white hair – rough as stone – fell past his shoulders. Link advanced in silence. The guards’ eyes followed him, their bodies tensing as he drew nearer. For a moment, it seemed they might move to intercept him. Then the elder raised a hand. At once, they stood down. “This young’un means us no harm,” the elder said. “Ya have done well to make it this far, brudda. Mah name is Gor Ebizo. I reckon that since ya found meh, Gor Amoto has already given ya his key shard?” “Yes, sir,” Link replied. Gor Ebizo pointed to a chest at the back of the chamber. “Mah shard is over there. Take it quick.” Link stepped up to the chest. The Goron guarding it gave a respectful bow and moved aside. Within lay the second shard. Link took it, then brought out the first, pressing the pieces together. They aligned perfectly, but the key was still incomplete. “I should be on my way,” Link said, tucking the fragments away. “Very well, but before ya go, young’un, allow meh to offer some advice.” Gor Ebizo draped his arm over Link’s shoulder. “The path forward is mighty dangerous, but there is somethin’ that may give ya an edge.” Link’s head tilted. “What’s is it?” “An ancient weapon. Said to have been used by a hero of old. Thanks to mah fallen bruddas, the invaders have yet to reach it. Make your way to the treasure’s restin’ place and tell the guard that I sent ya.” “Got it,” Link said with a small nod. “I ought to thank ya brudda. Yer heroics will be our salvation.” “I’m just doing the right thing, sir.” Gor Ebizo chuckled lightly. “If only everyone shared yer sensibilities. Good luck, brudda.” Link climbed the ladder to the wooden balcony and approached the next door. An adolescent Goron stood guard before it. Even the children are being forced to fight, Link thought grimly. The Goron tribe was closer to annihilation than he had feared. “The ancient weapon is just up ahead,” the Goron said as he opened the way for him. After thanking the young warrior, Link stepped through and shut it firmly behind him. Beyond, the way ran straight through cramped tunnels and small caverns carved from blackened stone. Little stood in his path, and before long he emerged at the edge of a small magma lake. Suspended above the lava was a metal platform, held aloft by four rusty chains hanging from the ceiling. On the far side of the cave, a large Goron knelt before a round metal door. Charcoal-grey armour encased him, and a gargantuan two-handed sword rested ready in his grasp. His face was concealed entirely, save for the faint gleam of his eyes beneath the helm. Link stepped onto the platform and moved with measured caution. The sound of his approach stirred the warrior from his meditation. He lifted his head and rose, towering over Link by several feet. When he stepped onto the platform, it swayed violently, the chains above groaning under the strain. “Halt, human!” the warrior’s voice rang out. “You have no business here. Turn back.” Link raised both hands. “My name is Link. Your elders sent me. I’m here to save the patriarch.” “Lies! This is a forbidden place! I will do whatever it takes to protect it from the likes of you!” “No, you don’t understand! Your elders–” “Enough talk!” The Goron charged, his massive blade cleaving downward. Link barely escaped as it struck the platform with explosive force. The entire structure lurched, chains rattling violently as they began to tear free from above. Great. Just great. “Listen to me!” Link shouted. “I don’t want to fight you! We’re on the same side!” “Shut up and fight!” the Goron snapped. He swung again. Link caught the blow on his shield, but the impact hurled him toward the edge of the platform. He scrambled to regain his footing as the Goron curled into a ball and barreled forward. Link dove aside at the last instant. The platform teetered as the Goron uncoiled near the edge. Rising to his feet with a growl, Link drew his sword. Words would not reach the Goron, but steel might. He studied the armour carefully. It was nearly impenetrable, save for a narrow gap between the chest and abdominal plates. A precise strike there could end this, but not while the Goron still wielded his blade. Then I’ll take it from him. The Goron charged without hesitation. Link dropped and rolled beneath him, springing back to his feet as the warrior spun and struck. Link barely got his shield up in time. The impact rang through his entire body. “You are feeble, little human,” the Goron growled. “This is hardly a fight.” He’s right. It’s not, Link thought with a grimace. He could not hope to overpower the Goron in a contest of strength, but battles were not decided by strength alone. Size and armour made the warrior formidable, yet they also burdened him. Link would make him chase until fatigue dulled his edge, and one mistake turned the fight. Link kept his distance. He slipped and parried the Goron’s strikes, answering with glancing blows intended to provoke, not harm. Each miss chipped away at the Goron’s composure. Frustration crept in, and his discipline began to falter. At last, he lunged far too recklessly. The platform tilted beneath him, throwing off his balance. It was the opening Link had been waiting for. He drove his sword into the Goron’s palm, and the warrior answered with a brutal backhand that snapped his head to the side. Link staggered, spat blood, then lifted his gaze to meet the Goron’s. That should have hurt more, he realized. He’s weakening. In a final attempt to drive him from the platform, the Goron curled into a ball and thundered forward. This time, Link did not retreat. He planted his feet and met the charge head-on, bracing behind his shield. The force shuddered through him, but he held fast. Muscles straining, he pushed back, forcing the massive warrior to yield step by step. “Impossible!” the Goron cried. With a burst of strength, Link drove the Goron to the ground and leveled his blade at his throat. He could have ended it there. Instead, he lowered his sword. Stepping back, he offered his hand. After a brief pause, the Goron accepted, rising slowly as the tension between them eased. “I did not think humans capable of such strength…” The Goron bowed his head. “Allow me to apologize for my behaviour. I am Dangoro, commander of the honour guard. Tell me your name, young warrior.” “Link. Your elders sent me. I’m here to save your patriarch.” “After seeing you fight, I understand why they chose you.” Dangoro retrieved his claymore and nodded toward the metal door. “You’ve come for the hero’s weapon, haven’t you?” “Yes.” “Then come. I’ll take you to it.” Dangoro led Link through the metal door into a small shrine. A narrow moat of water encircled a large stone altar. Carved from smooth white marble it was adorned with gemstones and intricate etchings. A sturdy wooden bow rested at its centre, paired with a quiver of brightly coloured arrows. Link stepped up to the altar and examined the hero’s weapon more closely. Despite its age, it remained in pristine condition. The wood – dark and burnished – was reinforced with subtle metal along its curved limbs, while a simple riser guarded the leather-wrapped grip. Unlike the altar beneath it, the bow bore no lavish adornments, favouring practicality over ornament. “This bow has been protected by our tribe since the ancient hero placed it in our care,” Dangoro said. “It is said to have unmatched range and piercing power.” Link lifted the bow from the altar. It settled into his grip as though it had been made for him. He had hunted with bows back home, but even Rusl’s finest craftsmanship paled in comparison to this. As he drew the string taut, a quiet, coiled strength answered his pull. He held it for a moment, feeling the tension hum beneath his fingers, before easing it back into place. Then he slung the quiver over his shoulder. “So many of my brothers have died protecting that weapon.” Dangoro turned away. “Seeing it in your possession puts me at ease.” Link slid the bow into the quiver. “Their sacrifice won’t be in vain.” “You are a man of honour,” Dangoro said. “Gor Liggs is just ahead. Go to him and claim the last key shard.” With that, Dangoro took his leave, and Link pressed on. The chamber beyond the altar was like the rest of the mine: dark and choked with the stench of brimstone. Metal beams strained beneath a low ceiling, the stone above them fractured from relentless earthquakes. Dust sifted down in quiet streams. There was no clear path forward. A pillar-like statue stood at the centre of the chamber, forged from red granite and bands of metal. Though its base was rooted to the floor, its upper body turned in a slow, deliberate circle. A crimson gemstone gleamed from its face, resembling an unblinking eye. As Link stepped closer, the statue turned and unleashed a beam of energy. It scorched past him, singeing his sleeve and melting the cobblestone at his feet. He jerked back with a sharp inhale, beating out the flames before they could climb up his arm. Some kind of security system, Link realized. It’s set to attack anything that moves. The mechanism was unlike anything Link had seen. Energy seemed to rise from the ground itself, drawn up through the statue and focused into the crimson gemstone before being released as that searing lance. If the gem was its focus, then shattering it my disable it. He would have to strike from a distance. Reaching into the quiver on his back, Link drew his new bow and trained it on the glowing gemstone. He nocked an arrow and pulled the string taut. It had been some time since he last fired a bow, but the motion came back to him easily. As the lens turned into view, Link fired. The arrow struck with a sharp crack. The gemstone splintered, shards flashing in the dim light. The statue trembled violently, a low, grinding vibration rippling through its frame as the energy within it unravelled. Moments later, it went still. I haven’t lost my touch, Link thought, lowering the bow as he turned his attention to the room. He searched every corner – along the walls, beneath the supports, and across the fractured stone – but found no hidden doors or switches. His jaw tightened. There had to be something. As Link’s search proved fruitless, Midna slipped from the shadows and floated toward the statue. She slowed as she reached it, studying the base more closely. “Hey,” she called. “There’s something under here.” Link turned from the wall and approached the statue. Running his hand along its base, he felt the edge of a metal plate beneath it. A pressure pad. He braced himself and tried to push the statue aside, but it refused to budge. Midna watched Link struggle, rolling her eyes. It was mildly entertaining at first, but her patience wore thin. With a flick of her power, she shoved the statue aside as though it weighed nothing. The chamber trembled in response, and part of the right wall slid open, revealing a hidden door. “Huh, talk about convoluted,” Midna muttered. “At least it kept the elder safe.” He forced the door open, stone grinding against stone. Midna slipped back into the shadows as he stepped into the final elder’s chamber. The walls were lined with the hides of fire-breathing lizards, their scaled skins stretched and mounted as trophies. The air carried a faint, acrid scent. The final elder sat cross-legged within his wrestling ring, deep in meditation. He stood apart from his kin. Tall and lean, his yellow skin was covered with black tattoos and intricate spiritual markings. His long hair and beard – both dyed black –framed a face that was calm and composed. As Link approached, the elder opened his eyes and smiled. “Ah, you are here at last,” he said, his voice warm and wise. “I hope Commander Dangoro did not trouble you too greatly. He has a habit of letting his fists do the talking.” “He wasn’t entirely welcoming, but he eventually listened to reason,” Link said. “That’s good to hear. I am Gor Liggs. I am honoured to finally meet you, young Link.” The elder placed the final key shard on Link’s palm. He retrieved the other fragments and fitted them together. The pieces aligned with a soft click, forming a complete key. “You may now enter the chamber where Fyrus is held,” Gor Liggs said. “But understand… That creature is no longer our patriarch. He has been twisted by evil. He will not rest until everything is reduced to ash.” Link closed his hand around the key. “I won’t let that happen.” “Your conviction is inspiring,” Gor Liggs said. “I will trust in your strength.” A sudden quake tore through the mountain – longer and more violent than the any before it. The ground trembled, and dust rained from above. Gor Liggs’ expression darkened. “You must go,” he said gravely. “The back passage will lead you to the central mining chamber. Good luck, Master Link.” The elder lowered himself once more into meditation, his breathing calm. Link gave a small nod and turned toward the exit. At the door, he paused and glanced back over his shoulder. “You called your patriarch Fyrus,” he said. “What does the name mean?” Gor Liggs did not open his eyes. “In our ancient tongue, Fyrus means Demon of Flame.” Midna’s reaction from within Link’s shadow was immediate and visceral. A shiver crawled up his spine before he could stop it. They were up against something that even the Gorons feared. Something powerful enough to twist their own patriarch into a monster. How much of a chance did he really have? I defeated the first Fused Shadow, he reminded himself. I can do it again…