Chapter Text
The dark crept up on the boy, pressing in on all edges. He held his lantern close to his chest, trying to keep his breathing even as he padded forward through the caves. The dim flicker barely penetrated deep shadows, the flame slowly dying as it ate through the oil sopping the wick. Link trembled, tears gathering in his eyes. He felt so foolish for his fear, but no one was around to mock him for it. And that there was no one frightened Link even more.
He was used to the city, to the noise of drunk songs and screaming through the night, the wails of babies and the woman upstairs who had visitors at every hour. He was used to the bustle of the day, to the men who played dice on the streets and the children who claimed city blocks and fought over them with sticks and slingshots. He was used to the constant presence of mean soldiers, the ones who weren’t good enough for the better streets, and so they squandered their years beating up the less fortunate. He was used to sickness, to pain, to hunger. He was not used to loneliness or the dark.
“Please,” Link begged to his lantern, willing the little light to hold on a moment longer.
Just until he found daylight. Just until there was an exit.
Turning the corner, Link stared at a moblin blocking the path. A cammed nose, its upper lip resting on bottom canines, slobber spilling from its chin. It wore a round cap of metal as a helmet, a sheet of scuffed leather over its broad chest, and in one hand, carried a crooked spear.
Link’s eyes widened. The moblin roared at him, hoisting its spear.
Link spilled back around the corner with a scream, running from the best. Behind him, the moblin’s heavy steps shook the ground, ringing a tremble up through his bare feet and into his legs. The cave shaft was long, straight, and narrow. There was nowhere to hide, no place to dodge—
Link screamed as the chipped spearhead pierced his right shoulder. The force of the blow pitched him forward, sending his lantern sailing through the air. The boy came down hard on hands and knees, the gravel across the ground skinning cracked knees and palms. He struggled to breathe over the burn in his shoulder and sting in his skin, but Link found himself pushing up to his feet.
The moblin caught up, ripping the spear back out. Link let out a broken sob as the rusted tip tore his flesh open on the way out. The monster drove its foot into his back, sending him harshly to the ground. Link tumbled across the rock, curling up reflexively. The shards of his broken lantern laced open his skin, his blood stained them red and left a sloppy trail.
Link came to a stop when his back met the wall, knocking the air out of him. The lantern flame, still alive on the end of its wick, snuffed out. The boy was plunged into a world without light, blind, lost, and terrified.
He heard the moblin snuffling in the dark, its nose easily following his bloodtrail. Link struggled up to his elbow, collapsing with a whine. Tears spilled down his face, blood soaked the shirt slipping down his shoulders. Link opened an eye, catching the glow of the moblin’s eyes as they drew near. He sucked in a weak gasp, his body moving before his mind.
Lashing out, Link took up a jagged shard of glass from the ground. It bit open his palm, but he rushed forth, swinging wildly into the dark. He felt something warm brush across him, the glass met resistance, and blood sprayed across the child’s face.
The moblin roared in the dark, its arm swinging into Link’s face. The boy was knocked aside, thrown headfirst into the wall. He wheezed, collapsing to the ground. Shapes and sound sloshed from one side of his head to the other, dragging him down into some terrible dizzy nausea.
Link flinched as a light suddenly flushed the shaft. He squinted against a dancing purple flame floating in midair. It zipped forth, lighting the path for a shadowy blur along the wall. The shadow leapt into the air, cleaving down with a sword. It cut into the moblin’s shadow and like some strange puppet show, blood sprayed from the monster's shoulder as it was sent reeling. The shadow sprung up again, plunging its sword into the beast’s chest. The moblin went up in a puff of smoke, ash, and magic.
Link sputtered, sobbing and confused. He watched as the shadow peeled away from the wall, taking shape as an older boy. He looked to be 10 or so, dressed in a simple black tunic and cuffed boots. Silver hair beneath a pointed cap, crimson eyes burning in the dark, a flash of white teeth as he smiled.
“Are you lost?” the boy asked.
Link pressed himself against the wall.
“It’s okay,” the shadow said. “I won’t hurt you.”
He came near, raising a hand. Link flinched, but found himself fixed in place as the shadow’s arm melted against the wall, grabbing Link’s shadow by the shoulder. Link watched as the boy cast some kind of spell, sapping the pain from his injuries. The wound in his shoulder closed into a glossy scar, the scrapes on his hands and knees scabbed into nothing but brown bruises. His head cleared up, his ears stopped ringing, it became easier to breathe.
“I can’t do as much as a fairy,” the shadow explained, “but I can do that, at least.”
“...magic,” Link mumbled, staring at the boy wide-eyed.
The boy nodded. “Yes. Have you seen it before?”
Link shook his head quickly.
“I see. Do you have a name?”
“...Link.”
“Hello, Link. I’m Dark. It’s nice to meet you.”
Dark offered one ashen hand to Link. The boy took it, allowing himself to be drawn to his feet. Dark’s touch was cold like afternoon shade, but there was something overwhelmingly familiar about it. The shadow fussed over Link, fixing the boy’s hair and using his thumb to wipe some stubborn dirt off tear-stained cheeks.
“Is that your shirt?” Dark asked.
Link glanced down at the linen top. It was much too big for him, the hem reaching below his knees, the collar threatening to slide off his shoulders. Link screwed up his face in confused misery, shaking his head.
“...dunno,” he said.
“Alright,” Dark replied. “That’s okay.”
With a snap of his fingers, a new change of clothes appeared in Dark’s arms. A linen overtunic, black in color and hooded, laced up the front with a thin leather cord, a light gray undertunic of the same material, the sleeves longer in length than the over piece, and a pair of dark gray trousers. Dark turned his back, allowing Link some privacy as the boy changed.
Beneath Link’s presumably borrowed or stolen shirt, his skin was peppered with old scrapes and bruises. Parting gifts from his parents in the weeks before, the ones he hadn’t been healthy enough to recover from very quickly. He was relieved to hide them beneath the clothes Dark lent him.
Dark glanced over his shoulder, smiling fondly. “Black suits you,” he said.
Link held himself insecurely. <Thank you> he signed shyly.
“You don’t care to speak much, do you?” Dark hummed.
Link shook his head once. His tongue never brought him anything but trouble.
“That’s alright,” the older boy said. “I don’t mind quiet company. You’ll come with me, won’t you? I mean, you can’t fight and there’s monsters all over these caves.”
Link shuffled closer. Dark smiled slyly, offering his hand. The younger boy took it, trying not to squeeze Dark’s fingers even as fear caused his heart to flutter. Link was too afraid to look ahead into the shadows past the purple fire’s reach. He thought he might find something looking back.