The shawl did little to protect young Ganondorf from the ferocious desert winds. The sand-strewn wind bit and stung, leaving the 16-year-old Gerudo male little choice but to cover his head with the shawl like a burial shroud, dimming his visibility further. The salty taste of sweat trickled down to his lips, for the heat combined with two days of wandering through the endless dunes took a great toll on the youth's body. His joints ached, and his sword arm was sore from use. The desert was a dangerous place.

For two days now he had endured his "vision quest," a journey required by the Gerudo for him to properly earn his rightful place as king of his people.

Earn. Why "earn" something that would be his no matter what the outcome? He was a male Gerudo--an occurrence that happened only every 100 years. He would provide the seed to guarantee the continuation of the Gerudo race for another century. The sacred texts said that he was thus king of his people ... but only after undergoing a vision quest. The vision quest was to supposedly provide him with the enlightenment and wisdom necessary to properly lead his warrior race of desert amazons.

And here Ganondorf was, trekking through the desert aimlessly, wandering like a hapless fool boy, eating the unsatisfying remains of the plant-like leevers. This was the heroic quest that would shape him into a king?

Ganondorf did not fear death. The sacred texts ensured that the spirits would protect all Gerudo males from harm as long as they stayed true to the quest and to Gerudo beliefs. The young prince believed the texts, as the tradition of the vision quest had lasted for time uncounted, and yet the Gerudo race endured. Also, there was not one documentation of past kings ever perishing from foes or sickness. The king would live to the end of his days--a much shorter life than the few centuries enjoyed by the ever-youthful females--and die in his sleep at about the same time that a son would be born to him. Ganondorf's father had died six months before his birth, at the age of 99.

The exhausted prince took a draught of precious water from his canteen. Several old tricks involving taking water from cacti and even leevers had sustained him with enough fluid to prevent dehydration, but they did little to quench one's thirst. The canteen was nearly spent, and only one more remained.

He now crested a tall dune, and used its high vantage point to view the surrounding area. Expecting the same scene of endless ocean of sand, he instead saw what looked like an oasis up ahead. He couldn't be sure, however, with the howling wind obscuring his vision. With a goal finally in sight, though, Ganondorf trudged on with renewed vigor. He crested three more dunes, almost sliding down one in excitement. The leafy green crown of a palm tree swayed madly above a small dune in front of him.

As soon as he virtually leapt over the final, small dune, the wind abruptly ceased. The swirling sand's veil was suddenly lowered, and Ganondorf stared ahead in amazement.

There was an oasis a short distance ahead, encircled by palm trees. But beyond this was a gigantic colossus carved into the side of a small mountain. It was in the likeness of a Gerudo female, a queen perhaps (which was unheard of) or maybe a goddess.

Stopping at the life-giving oasis only long enough to drink of its surprisingly pure and clean water, Ganondorf hurried toward the colossus. Perhaps he had found the end of his vision quest after all.

Now that he was closer, he saw that the colossus stood over a sealed entrance. He ascended a short flight of stone steps and approached the seal, seeing the scrawling of ancient Gerudo runes etched on its surface:

"Words of my heritage?" Ganondorf asked himself aloud. Not knowing what else to say, he recited the names of all the Gerudo kings recorded in the ancient texts.

After finishing with his own name, a blue light suddenly framed the doorway, and the runes flared to magical life, burning an intense blue. A strange symbol that had not been there before materialized on the doorway, with the timeless symbol of the Triforce transposed over it. Then, the rune-engraved stone slid away, leaving only the inky blackness of the structure's dark interior.

With the sun on the other side of the mountain, Ganondorf couldn't see very far within the cave--if only a simple cave it was. He slung off his pack and fumbled around for a torch and tinder box. His torch flared to life and he cautiously entered the cave, drawing his scimitar with his free right hand out of its jewel-encrusted scabbard.

His footsteps echoed ominously in the room, giving him the impression of vastness. A dais with a throne at its top entered his torch light. He began to ascend the dais, but his warrior-bred instincts began screaming at him: someone else was in the room.

Stone scraped against stone and the sliver of light of the structure's entrance grew narrower. Before he could act, the resounding thud of the closing door pronounced his doom. Ganondorf cursed himself for not placing a rock in the entranceway as a wedge, but reminded himself once again that the spirits of his ancestors would protect him.

"Why do you look so troubled, young Ganondorf?" asked a dusty, snakelike voice.

Ganondorf spun around to face the throne, his scimitar held out defensively in front of him. A man sat there, calm and relaxed, his gloved hands resting easily on the gold-gilt arms. He was clad in black robes and a hood covered his head, its shadows also concealing his face. Black boots shodded his feet, and a single ring with the symbol of the Triforce with a skull in its center adorned his finger. The only visible features of the man were two locks of long, white hair that hung well past his shoulders, and his eyes. His eyes were bright and shimmering, at first appearing a dull purple, but on closer inspection, actually flashing between the colors of blue, green, and red. Ganondorf had the vague impression that the man was smiling at him, even though he couldn't see his face.

"Why do you fear? Won't your spirits protect you?" the black-clad man asked almost mockingly. He had a voice best described as "gravelike"--a mix of dust, bones, snakes, and stone scraping against stone.

Ganondorf dropped his torch to the ground beside him and placed both hands on his scimitar, entering a battle stance.

"Is this not your vision quest, my young prince?" the mocking, gravelike voice asked again. "Perhaps I am only an apparition--a "vision" for your quest?"

"Or perhaps I am to slay you," Ganondorf finally said. He surprised himself with the coldness and confidence he said it with. A slight grin of self-satisfaction crossed his face. "What shall it be? Will we duel?"

"Duel? With a Gerudo male undergoing his vision quest? Even I will not test some powers. For indeed spirits do protect you, young prince--you'd just be surprised to know what kind."

"What is that suppose to mean?" Ganondorf questioned forcefully. He took a few deliberate steps up the dais, maintaining his crouched battle stance.

The black-clad man rose from his seat and walked around the throne. "So will you stand on the steps all day? Approach. I will not harm you; if I had intended to kill you, I would never had revealed myself."

Something about the danger, power, and wickedness surrounding this man made Ganondorf believe his every word. Grabbing his torch but not sheathing his scimitar, he ascended the rest of the dais to stand only several feet from the black-clad man. He still could not make out any of his features.

"Really, the torch is unnecessary," spoke the man. Ganondorf dropped his torch in amazement as its flame leapt off its end and encircled the man. The spinning ring of fire rose higher and spread to the corners of the room. It flared brighter and hotter than any normal flame would, illuminating the entire room in flickering, shadowy light. One of these shadows helped partially conceal the man, seemingly embracing him like a lover.

Ganondorf continued to stare at the black-clad man in amazement. "Such is just a minor aspect of my power." Raising a gloved hand, blue-green flame sprung to life in his palm. "Power that can only be granted to a few."

"W-who are you?" Ganondorf slightly stuttered.

"I am he who was, and is, and forever will be. I am Forger, Keeper, and Juror." The flame died.

"What of your power?" inquired Ganondorf, his fear slowly being replaced by curiosity.

"Ah ... that you shall witness firsthand!" shouted the black-clad man. The blue-green flame suddenly flared to life in both of his hands, and he tossed the fireballs at Ganondorf.

Caught off guard, Ganondorf barely managed to dodge one, but the other hit him in his shoulder, scorching his clothes and sending his body into convulsions from the jarring electrical surge of the magic's power. Screaming, he lunged at the man, but the evil sorcerers form seemed to become less substantial and rematerialize at the bottom of the dais.

The black-clad man smiled, and pointed at something behind Ganondorf.

The circling fire that continued to illuminate the chamber suddenly produced several fiery bats. Nearly as fast as the fireballs, they flew at Ganondorf. But the young swordsman was ready this time, and he was bred from the fiercest warrior culture in all of Hyrule. The first fire bat he dodged, slicing it as it flew by him, and then used his dodge's momentum to fall into a roll to escape the second and third. They wheeled back around, but two clean slices caused them to vaporize, leaving only a small puff of smoke as their remains.

Ganondorf was facing the black-clad man's position as he dispatched the last two fire bats, watching him for any movement, but none came. There the man still stood calmly.

The man crossed his arms slowly, and the symbol of the Triforce appeared in the air in front of him.

"Do you know what this is, my young prince?"

Scorched and panting, Ganondorf did not feel like answering foolish questions and instead glared at the man.

"Of course you do--what civilized creature in all of Hyrule not know? It is the source of our prosperity. It fuels all life, and is the source of goodly magic. It is the symbol of the Three Goddesses who so lovingly shaped our world those many millennia ago. It even indirectly fuels evil magic, for it doesn't know good or evil, it can't discern between such intangible things. Power, Wisdom, and Courage. Which of the three would you choose?"

Ganondorf was perplexed by the man's sudden return to conversation, and so cautiously answered, "Power, of course. For cannot one with those other two qualities mold that raw power into whatever form he wishes for it?"

"Ha ha ha. Good answer, my young prince. Excellent, in fact. Yes, Power certainly does help one achieve their goals quickly enough, and would aid best in seizing the other two. For by taking one, you isolate yourself from the others."

Ganondorf raised an eyebrow.

"You will understand in due time, I promise." The black-clad man gave a low bow. "You shall be a grand king indeed, but alas for the Gerudo ...."

Ganondorf was instantly back on his guard. "Will you so threaten my people? I have a responsibility to them, even as prince, and even love them--"

"Love?" shouted the black-clad man. "Ha! That will surely be the first thing you lose. You are destined for power, destined for the great Power that we spoke of earlier. Time flows around you, bends to you. You are fated to great things--things beyond the simple cares of a race that will not see many more generations. You will learn to use people, and discard love, or you will fail."

Once again, Ganondorf had no answer but to stand and stare.

"Thus do I grant to you the power of the Black Arts. You shall inherit them just as you inherit your destiny of Power. You shall become the Forger, and in time Keeper and Juror. Chaos will be your ally, and Balance your imprisonment. Immortality will you find, but only by sacrificing your humanity. Silver will pierce your blackened heart, and all shall fear your mere ashes. You will be reborn, however, and taint the land of Gold with the dark hearts of thieves and murderers. Death shall find you, but not before you master Time itself. I name you Ganon."

Tears welled up in Ganondorf's eyes. "I will not take such a fate! Will my soul be condemned beyond my own actions? Do I not have free will? I reject your Power!" His final scream echoed all around the chamber.

The black-clad man waited patiently for Ganondorf to stop his whimpering, then spoke. "I am he who was, and is, and forever will be. Time is like a simple pathway to me, and I can walk it both directions. Though I came to you from the past, I first came from the present."

Confusion and anger and sadness wracked Ganondorf's brain. "Present? How ...?"

The black-clad man slowly grabbed the hem of his hood and pulled it back over his head, revealing his face.

And his face was like a mirror, though shadows had tainted its glass. And glowing on his oh-so-familiar forehead was a tatoo of three triangles, each glowing brightly.

And Ganondorf didn't know whether to scream or to laugh.