Shadow and Remnant -

By: Justin C.
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Author's Note: This is a revised edition of my first Zelda fiction, so please review critically. I present to you, a modest story based upon a dream that I had this summer. I used this dream to propel this little continuation of The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess. I do not own or distribute the intellectual property of Nintendo, nor will I ever.

I have actually resubmitted this Prologue with an updated format. I hope it helps.

I herby dedicate this fiction to the lovely lot at the MMF. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it.

Now, without further ado:

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Prologue

In the Land of Hyrule, there is war.

Twilit shadow cascades across the northern lands upon steeds of darkness.

Once thought only to be mere shadows against the Light, the mounted figures lower their lances in the evening’s mist. Ornate armour shields their milk white bodies, shrouded underneath dark cloaks. Vivid cyan glyphs trace the contours of both flesh and iron. Their eyes, beneath uniform, helms burn brightly against the night’s canopy.

The Innocent watched in bleak terror as the thunderous sides of war drew ever nigh upon one another.

They are the night: Black hooves dash against cold Hyrulean earth, carrying the weight of both steed and shelled rider. Lance and spear and axe and blade are gripped tightly under enchanted gauntlets.

Indeed, they are the night.

Twilit Knights of the Realm, pure and free, ride against the black foe now unfamiliar. Nearly half a mile away, the offensive brood charged. Dark-swirled muscle beneath cursed black flesh, their fingers long and powerful. Tendrils, from behind cold stone masks lash about like the whips of slavers.

Only, these creatures that carried the crimson symbols of the dead Usurper King were not the drivers, but the ones in bondage.

Cursed, feral, and snarling. The Twilit Knights knew well of their foes, and for each beast that was slain, the deeper the wounds of heartbreak snaked. Their growls and screams lay etched in the minds of the brave few Knights who dared challenge the Darkness.

There were fewer of them now than before, the Knights came to realize. To heed the call of their forsaken Queen, they rode to these pure lands. Still, the screams of the many, so blinded by Darkness drew near.

A young man of Twilight, clad in the most ornate of armours, baring a helm that was graced with the black plume of a great flying beast and boasting both vivid red eyes and broad trim beard, rode before his company. A blackened cape lapped in the passing winds from his broad plated shoulders. The mark of the Twili race emblazoned a pure white squarely at its center.

The Captain of the Twilit company bore no shield, nor spear, but a single short blade crafted from the depths of his people’s will alone. Out of the thin evening air, the blade's curvature came into focus and solidified. The Captain’s grip was strong as he pointed his short sword’s razor tip toward the approaching legions of his former brothers.

Brothers they were no more. Cries of anger, terror, bloodlust, and hatred emerged from opposing ranks of Twili and Beast alike.

Finally, they became one: a cacophony of steel, claw and shadow.

So many masked beasts rose against the mounted surge. Blades fell and the creatures dissolved, but many more took their respective places. The Twili and their mounts cut a simple swath through the disjointed lines of howling Messengers. For the entire day of every day in the long week, the charges began as such. The Captain broke the mask of his seventh Beast in the charge when his anticipation of his earlier prediction came to being:

The mighty shaft of a long spear flew from the hoard of cursed ones. The blackened steel tip passed through the officer’s decorative plume and found concussive residence within the plated chest of the Knight at his immediate flank. The unfortunate soldier gasped for his last breath and passed away before his body met the littered ground.

There is was, a creature standing eleven feet tall, rippled with muscle and agony. It stomped closer toward the center of the Twilit charge. More importantly, stomping toward him, the Captain. The cursed Chieftain itself was controlled by the same Darkness that was awash within the former comrades that were being cut down all around him.

The cycle had repeated once more.

To each skirmish, there was a Dark Lord that controls the fate of all within its ranks. Removing any leader of any side would result in a breakdown of morale and eventually the battle itself. Inevitably, both the Captain and his opposing Lord Chieftain drew the same conclusion. The Captain reared his steed and shouted in a language unknown to the Innocents watching from afar.

At once, the entire Twilit company rallied to their officer and made war against the single Chieftain. Ignoring all other foes, the Twilit Knights lashed and speared at the opposing Lord, despite the drastic efforts of the feral beasts about them. The Lords varied in size and in strength, however, their fates wrought the same results: victory.

Such was the victory at the northern edge of Hyrule’s ravaged lands. The cursed Lord reared its ugly dark head in a last violent throe of life. Each spear wound and each embedded axe head shortened those unrestrained synapses.

Finally, the beast collapsed and was silent.

The battle plains were silent with the dead. The Messenger foe, once large and threatening, gave a final harmonic scream before they themselves fell. Their reigns were broken, each beast dissolved along with their field master. There were no shout of rapturous victory, nor were there smiles that dared impress. The Captain took a sweeping glance at the remnants of his company. Rest well, brothers. You have earned your keep in the halls of our ancestors.

The mist cleared as the winds blew strong once more. The cold air nibbled at the Captain’s face as he removed his helm. With a strong gauntleted hand, he wiped clear the sweat within the chin's thickness of stubble and whisker.

The mist cleared to reveal emerging stone. Soon, there were more and more that rose. Large slabs of stone, carved and arranged in such a peculiar fashion that none understood their purpose.

Amazing. Astounding. These were the queries that passed among the tattered few who remained on the field.

At last, the stone slabs were ceased from the ground which they emerged. From disturbed Hyrulean earth those structures rose to form a pattern seen only from the sky. A wide clearing resided within the perimeter that the stones created. The Captain and his flabbergasted few approached silently and slowly their prize, if a prize indeed it was. None risked a touch, but all risked their stares. Such a mysterious formation, yet no purpose arose as to the existence of such a structure.

The Captain, his entire company eagerly awaiting his words, said nothing but bravely placed an open palm upon the naked surface of the nearest stone. From the point where his hand made contact, sharp blue lines emerged. Twisting and turning, forming curious, brightly lit mazes and patterns, the lines halted not until the last snakes of blue light returned to the point of origin.

A resonation was felt from the glyphs that formed. For as magical as the event itself, there was no other that followed. The stone perimeter simply sat and pulsated with its newfound light. Of the many strange and unfortunate events to pass through our lost lands, these stones who refuse to yield their purpose are among the cruelest.

There was a noise. A rustling noise that caught the ears of those Twili that no longer possessed any. All in the mounted Twili unit turned and lowered their arms in preparation.

Ilia had to keep Telma silent, but ever since the change, she had developed a restless nature that coincided with her usual stout assertiveness. In the short time that the young maid from Ordona had known the Hylian tavern owner, she had never witnessed such impulsiveness. This curse, this vaunted magic was foul business, though Telma’s shape was foreign, her inner self remained. Or what could be seen as her inner self.

Throughout the entire battle, both women watched in immobile silence. Even when the last Beast fell, Telma was calm. Then, those mysterious stones rose from the ground and Ilia’s cursed comrade became restless. The bearded victor, that Ilia regarded as the company commander, took the initiative to approach the mystery.

Telma’s cursed eyes bulged further from their pink sockets as the bearded one placed his hand upon the nearest stone. “Ignorant Interlopers!” hissed Telma as she attempted to claw her way out of the shrubs they used as cover. It took nearly all of her strength to withhold the poor creature, lest the victorious riders mistook her for another foe.

The pain of guilt should any harm befall Telma would be too great for such a kind heart to bear. Alas, her grip failed her and Telma was loose to stumble forward into the clear. Ilia gasped in terror as the deformed bar lady made her way across the open toward the glowing stones.

The Captain could not believe his own scarlet eyes. The figure that stumbled from the bushes took his entire company aback. It was large, pink and angry looking. Yet, for all of its demeanor, the short dwarfish creature bared no threatening representations. Large brown eyes, those that appeared several sizes too wide for the pink sockets glared only at him. Its pointed ears were decorated with fine golden loops that hung freely in the breeze. Round pink hips suggested a feminine build, large lips and a slight waddle confirmed the suggestion.

It spoke, saying, “Have you no idea what this place means. O Captain of the Twilight?”

Another voice shouted after her, “Telma, wait!” Captain sought the voice’s origin. A human female?

This one who caught up with the pink dwarf was a fragile one indeed. Short golden hair was tied back to make way for the brilliant green eyes that accommodated the petit thin visage.

“What do you think you’re doing, provoking them like that? You could be killed!” A strong head held such motherly words. Humans and their emotions. The Captain simply stared in confusion.

“O Captain of Twilight,” began the pink one. “I offer to you, information most valuable to your cause, should thou choose to heed my call.”

To humans, it was gibberish. To the Twili, it was their native tongue. How could this one speak so fluently, though she clearly does not belong to us? The human female at her side did not appear to understand. Instead, she chose to plead with the Captain, “Please, sir. My friend is not well. She has been transformed and I do not know how to help her. Her name is Telma.”

Hylian, a simple language. Captain decided to acquiesce, “She has been cursed.” The human fell silent, “It is likely that this form is born from the evil that my company seeks to destroy.”

“Can you help her?” asked the female pleadingly.

Those eyes somehow tore a hole in the Captain’s own emotional defences. A heart hardened by combat somehow shattered at the will of a civilian, or by the looks of her simple dress, peasant woman.

Before he could answer, the Captain was derailed by the pink one, “We have no time for idle chatter, come o Captain, there is much to be said.”

The Captain appeared to have considered it as he dismounted his dark steed. Those creatures upon which the victors rode were unlike any that Ilia had seen before. They were dark, featureless. There was no beauty that Ilia could see like she saw in a horse. She thought of Epona, the mare from Ordona. Thoughts of the beautiful horse eventually melted into thoughts of Link, Epona’s rider.

Thoughts of Link transpired into the thoughts of her mission. By the time Ilia shook those thoughts away for the sake of the moment, she realized that Telma had disappeared into the lines of Dark victors. The Captain, as it seemed had taken the Castle Towner in a private audience, to treat in a language that Telma had never spoken before. That is, one that she had never chosen to speak before.

Strange tidings and stranger results. She had much to learn of these victors and the significance of this mysterious structure.

Ilia wondered at the possible outcomes of her mission. Were they even worth the possible results?