Chapter Text
For a moment, Sky hesitated. Doubt had a permanent place in his life since his journey. Never regret , but sometimes, Sky had the feeling that maybe he’d made the wrong choice. He doubted his own strength, he doubted his convictions, he doubted his own morals sometimes. He did his best not to think of it, to not dwell on the millennia following his own which would suffer the consequences of his actions. Or, rather, his inactions .
The cultist at the end of his blade wore a wooden mask like all the others. The thick bark was visibly fused to the poor soul, growing beneath her flesh. Fat roots the width of two fingers pushed up beneath her skin, leeching her life as fuel for its sinister magic. It was little more than a living clock, ticking down every second until the body beneath was nothing but a vessel if she weren’t already a puppet. Eventually, the flesh would die and rot and the mask would grow into one of those faced trees in Hyrule’s era. But there was a knot around one of her eyes. A gap. And in that gap, Sky was looking at a person .
Not a ghoul, not a faceless monster. She was scared and upset and Sky could see pain in her gaze as tears gathered to be taken in by the mask. She was mortal, just like him. Once, she had a mother and father, maybe she still had a family. Sky didn’t know whether or not she’d fallen in with the cult of her own accord, but if she had, then had to do so for a reason.
Sky refused to harm her further. He glanced over his shoulder, watching as Twilight easily plowed his sword into a much further devoured figure. The rancher planted his foot against the wooded thing’s chest, shoving it from his sword. That beastly gaze felt Sky’s eyes and swept to the chosen hero. There were no other cultists left, only the frail woman at Sky’s feet.
“Is that all of them?” Sky asked.
Twilight tipped his head, a puzzled look answering the question. The rancher gestured towards the woman.
Sky shook his head. “She’s done. She’s not a threat anymore.”
Twilight paused. “Sky,” he said gruffly.
Sky tensed. “She dropped her weapon.”
“They can use magic.”
The two heroes stared one another down, their grips on their swords tightening.
“We ain’t able to afford stragglers—”
“I said she’s not a threat,” Sky repeated coolly.
Twilight glanced down at the woman, a disinterested frown falling on her. Sky knew that look of nonchalance was only a front. He’d learned in time that though Twilight never voiced his feelings on anything important, the rancher took things like life and death seriously. Twilight was far from cruel or callused, nor did he work with the sort of toxic pragmatism Warriors did.
“Go ahead then,” Twilight grunted.
Sky bristled. “Not without you.”
Twilight shifted his annoyance onto the chosen hero. “I’ll wait ‘til you’s outta earshot—”
“I said no !” Sky barked shoving the rancher.
Sky’s protest rang in the stony ruins. Twilight was barely moved by the shove, even if Sky had put his whole weight behind it. Tears stung Sky’s eyes as he gritted his teeth. Twilight let out a soft sigh.
“I know it’s hard,” the rancher said quietly. “But it’s the only way—”
“And who are you to decide, huh?!” Sky scoffed, tossing his head in a shake. “Here I thought you were merciful.”
“ Merciful? ” Twilight spat bitterly.
“You’d murder a defenseless girl!”
Twilight gathered his face, fighting down the anger clear in his scowl. “She’s dead , Sky. She was dead the moment they stuck that bless ol’ mask on ‘er. You gone let a dog bleed out?” Twilight grabbed Sky by the shoulder, shoving him deeper into the hallway. “Go join up with the others, lettem know the way’s clear. I’ll be quick, so don’t go lookin’ for trouble—”
Sky felt sick with anger. He was always so careful to reign in his temper and keep it to himself. But there was little that he hated more than the feeling of powerlessness. Here was Twilight, making a decision for Sky—making one despite Sky.
With a yell, Sky swung the Master Sword at Twilight. The rancher blocked it just as quickly, the song of their swords ringing through the musty air. Sky flinched as the hilt of his blade burned his palms, warning him not to raise her against another hero.
“I respect it, Sky, ‘n I respect you too,” Twilight said flatly. “So go .”
“No!” Sky howled, pitching the sword aside.
Instead, frustrated and furious, Sky threw himself at Twilight unarmed. The rancher kicked his own sword away from the cultist on the floor, catching one of Sky’s arms. Sky’s free hand still swung wildly, belting Twilight across the nose and lips.
Twilight grimaced, the pain immediate. Blood wet his nostrils, spilling down his lips and chin. His top lip throbbed, beginning to swell on the right side where Sky’s knuckles had glanced across. Twilight only released Sky with a push away, reaching up to clamp his hand over his nose.
“I’m serious !” Sky shouted, tears streaming down his face.
Twilight frowned. “So’m I. I’ll tell ya one more time to get outta here ‘fore I handle it.”
Sky glanced at their swords on the ground. He threw his arms out, guarding them from Twilight. With a dry expression, Twilight simply drew a hunting knife from his boot. Sky’s eyes widened in horror.
“Leave,” Twilight said quietly.
Sky hesitated. He could throw himself at Twilight again, though unarmed, he knew he’d never win that fight. He could stay there and watch as Twilight did the unthinkable. Or Sky could give up on his convictions—
“Sky,” Twilight said softly, laying one hand on his shoulder. “I don’t blame ya. No one does. It ain’t fair. You done enough.”
Sky balled his fists, choking on a sob. He nodded, wiping his arm across his face. Devolving into further hysterics, Sky hugged himself as he trudged down the hall and towards the dungeon to rendezvous with the others as agreed upon.
Twilight sighed, drawing his hand down to rub his bloody fingers together. He knotted his brow, listening as Sky’s shuffling steps and unsteady breathing grew more and more distant. Once he was certain Sky was far enough away, Twilight kneeled in front of the cultist on the floor.
He smiled bitterly, resting one of his hands on her head. She watched him like a frightened animal caught in a trap, one which knew what was coming next. Twilight did his best to give her some comfort she likely hadn’t known in ages, and finally, he dispatched of her swiftly to ensure she felt none of it.
As Sky approached the others, Four’s eyes widened. The smith darted up to meet Sky, bewildered at the sobbing hero.
“Sky!” Four cried. “Are you okay?!”
“Where’s your sword?” Warriors asked.
“Where’s Twilight?” Time added on.
Sky shook his head, unable to get any words out through his tears. Four frowned, his eyes melting in a deep shade of ruby. He took Sky’s hands, squeezing them gently and making an active choice to not bring up the faint burns on his palms. Sky sank to his knees, wrapping Four up in a tight hug as he wept into the smith’s shoulder.
“Blessed be,” Time huffed. “I’ll go looking for Twilight—”
“I’m right here,” the rancher called from the corridor.
Moments later, he appeared from the shadows, the Ordon sword sheathed over his back and the Master Sword in hand. Fresh blood still seeped down his face, his lip reed and puffy.
“I told you to stay together,” Warriors scolded.
“We cleaned out,” Twilight answered. “I sent Sky ahead.”
“Are you hurt?” Four asked Sky as he rubbed the older hero’s back.
Sky shook his head swiftly.
Warriors crooked a brow, opening his mouth to ask more questions.
“We’ll talk later,” Twilight said, waving the captain off. “Give ‘im a minute.”
Warriors narrowed his eyes. Twilight held the man’s scowl just as stubbornly. Finally, Warriors gave up, waving his hand with a roll of his eyes and an impatient huff. Twilight sat down to see to his only injuries—those which Sky had given him.
Glancing up, Twilight saw Legend consoling Hyrule in the corner. Since banding together with the others, it wasn’t often Hyrule was captured, but when he was, he could be inconsolable for days. Already a flighty thing, the heroes knew they were in for at least a week of Hyrule’s worst tendencies. The boy would barely sleep, would refuse to eat anything he didn’t find or make for himself, and would stay out of reach of everyone except for his own predecessor.
Finally, Sky withdrew from Four, wiping his eyes. His sobs quieted into shudders, his eyes puffy and nose red and face wet with snot and tears. Four wet a handkerchief, using it to wash Sky’s face as much as Sky would allow it.
Sky darted his eyes up to Twilight, watching as the rancher accepted an ice jelly from Wild. The rancher pressed it to his face, relishing in its cool touch as it fought back against the swelling. Sky felt his heart squeeze with guilt again, but also uncertainty. His eyes fell, his face growing more sullen.
Sky was mad at himself for not doing more, mad at Twilight for doing it at all, and moreover, he was scared . Scared that he’d given up. Scared that Twilight could do something so terribly so easily and it dawned on Sky that perhaps it was only because Twilight had done something similar before.
Warriors eyed the two, the tension between them having a presence of its own in the room. The captain could see dread in Sky’s expression, and he saw the dullness in Twilight’s gaze that often attached itself to the man’s melancholy. People were born with a light which Warriors found was snuffed out to never shine again once certain deeds were carried out.
The captain could only assume it was the cultists. Time had struggled with it himself, but there was no denying that the only life under those masks was artificial. The poor wretches wearing them were lost the minute the masks had latched on.
Warriors traded a quick look with Time. The two men came to some unspoken understanding, immediately working together to keep Twilight and Sky as far away from each other as they could until cooler heads prevailed.