Anticipation was the theme of Dakarmos's features as he waited outside the door of the nursery. Royal servants passed him left and right down the long, echoing hallway, scurrying about to their various labors. Whenever one would hesitate by Dakarmos and begin asking if everything was all right, the fierce Sheikah knight would scowl and narrow the slits of his red eyes in response. Needless to say, the servant would hurry back to whatever he was doing, and not look once at him again. And in that manner Dakarmos waited, first standing, then crossing his arms, then finally pacing. At last, the door slowly creaked open, widened by the hand of the midwife. Dakarmos pushed right by her into the room, and knelt beside his bed-ridden wife. She held a baby in her arms.

"It's a girl," Dakarmos's exhausted wife Ulana faintly declared. He blew softly on the child's eyelids, and they opened sleepily. Dakarmos looked deeply into the swaddled newborn's beautiful red eyes, the mark of the Sheikah order.

"I see hope in those eyes," spoke Dakarmos. Gingerly, he extended a finger to brush the child's red cheek. "Already, I see an eternal innocence that will be the seed for a great wisdom one day. She may be the last hope of our dying order; or if not our hope, then the whole world's hope."

"What should be her name, husband?" asked Ulana.

"Her name shall be Hope. Her name shall be Impa."

The sun was a low golden ball in the rosy sky. Already the Watchers could see the camp fires flare to life on the vague and distant horizon. There were nearly a hundred small lights visible now, making the estimate of the invading Gerudo army about 800 to 1000 strong--the muster of the entire clan.

Dakarmos walked along the causeway of the Market Wall, listening to each Watcher's report. Because they were only Hylians, and not Sheikah, they required the use of a spyglass to see the armies. A few of the Watchers were Sheikah, but they were becoming fewer as the order's numbers decreased and greater needs for their talents arose. Dakarmos squinted his eyes, and looked into the distance himself. He could make out the tiny fires, and even vaguely see shadowy forms walking among them. The Gerudo had indeed come.

The Hylian army was already preparing to meet them. All of Hyrule Castle's power was being mustered at that very moment. 300 calvary and 500 infantry would face the onslaught of hundreds of berserking amazons just outside of a bowshot from the Market Wall. While spirits needed to remain high, the outlook seemed grim: one of the Gerudo warriors would be worth two or three knights, and the Gerudo outnumbered the Hylians at that. Not to mention that the Gerudo sported calvary of their own, and they were infamous for their horsemanship.

Thus, Dakarmos had received permission from the King of Hyrule just moments earlier to lead a small elite force of Sheikah to the Gerudo's encampment. A single man would be leading the army of women: their king. Dakarmos believed that if he could somehow slay their king, whom the Gerudo exalted as a god, then he could steal their hearts for battle. He knew that if he was successful, despair would claim them all, and not rage, for a Gerudo king had never been slain in combat before, and to accomplish what had never been done before in recorded history would be taken by the Gerudo as a sign of the spirits' displeasure of the battle.

Four Sheikah came walking down the causeway toward Dakarmos. They were dressed in the combat garb of the Sheikah: nondescript tight-fitting black garments with only one feature on them, a single red eye.

The four Sheikah stood at attention and awaited the command of Dakarmos, Captain of Arms and Retainer to the King; the Lord of the Order of the Red Eye. Dakarmos, crossing his gauntleted arms, eyed them for any signs of wavering.

Satisfied, Dakarmos soon led the small band of assassins on horseback out of the castle and to their destinies.

The interior of the King of the Gerudos's tent was beautiful to behold. Reams of red and gold cloth festooned every corner, gold- and silver-wrought censors emitted sweet, dizzying aromas, rich furs carpeted the floor. Two beautiful Gerudo women flanked the entrance to the tent, holding spears; and two others, scantily clad, reclined at the king's feet. The Gerudo King completely disregarded their presence.

He slumped in his golden throne--a throne taken from a secret temple he had visited long ago when he was but a boy. He leaned on his elbow, propped on one of the throne's splendidly gilded arms. His other hand rested on the other arm, his fingers tapping impatiently. While he looked the portrait of absolute boredom, he was actually lost in deep thought--and a dire struggle.

Something, he thought. He desired something ... but what was it? His vision quest of so many years ago came back to him in a blur, now. The words of the strange temple's peculiar inhabitant seemed garbled and lost to the haze of time. He spoke of a power, and of the Black Arts. Had the strange temple-dweller somehow cursed him with a great evil? The king could not remember.

But something ... something intangible had been gnawing at him of late. It was a hunger for power, he knew. In fact, this Hunger had driven him to attacking the heart of Hyrule, the land of the Hylians! War between the Gerudo and the Hylians was not unknown, but never once had such a force been raised.

Yes, but never once had a Gerudo king had so much ambition gnawing at him, he thought.

There was something else in addition to the Hunger. It perhaps fed the Hunger, or perhaps was completely unrelated to it. It was a Blackness, a small dark seed of evil and power that the king felt on the edge of his consciousness. He could almost grasp out at it with his mind, but every time, he recoiled, fearing what the consequences might be. He knew that the Blackness could sate his Hunger, at least temporarily, but he feared that once he touched it, he might never be able to let go.

A Gerudo woman entered the tent. She was beautiful--they were all beautiful--and she stirred another hunger within the king, a powerful hunger that for ages had guaranteed the continuation of the Gerudo race. Yet something separated her from the other nearly identical, beautiful women. Call it a poise, or an inner wisdom. The king felt a strong attraction to such inner strength and power. Perhaps after the war, he would call her back to his tent for a private victory celebration. No, that would not be her fate.

The intruder approached the throne and kneeled. Her head was pointed toward the floor, so as to appear as meek as possible.

The king raised himself up in his seat to his full height. "Speak, my Daughter," he said.

The title "Daughter" was simply honorary, and applied to all the Gerudo women. She could have actually been his daughter, though. Or even his mother. It did not matter; the Gerudo were a genetically pure race, and inbreeding was a perfectly safe practice, sometimes even necessary. Thus the delineations of "families" was meaningless to the Gerudo people.

"I am Nabooru, my Lord," spoke the woman, her head still facing the floor. "I wish to report news from the scouts, if it pleases you."

"Continue," bade the king.

Nabooru looked up. Her eyes shone with a wisdom and intelligence the king had never seen in a female before. "Yes, my Lord. A group of five approaches our camp. They were mounted at first, but left their horses a few miles back. They approach now on foot, silent as death. They move like shadows, but underestimated my tracking abilities, even in these grasslands. I have seen no further sign of them, but I know they are headed towards our camp."

The king leaned down and cupped Nabooru's chin tenderly in his hand. Leaning in closer, he kissed her on the lips gently, then bade her to go. She left quickly.

The king motioned for one of the women at his feet to sit on his lap. She complied automatically and without hesitation.

"These five will fear my name," the king spoke to himself. At his bidding, the already half-naked female began to disrobe. The two hungers within him battled for dominance. The Blackness suddenly seemed nearer, and unconsciously looking to resolve the internal struggle, he reached out to it.

The king's eyes shone golden. His skin grew hot with power. The naked female yelped and fell off his lap, and drew the attention of the others in the room.

The king pulled away from the Blackness, and he reverted back to normal. But it felt like some of the Blackness lingered in his heart, like a thin coat of oil or tar.

He looked down at the whimpering female.

"They shall fear the name Ganondorf," he told her.

Dakarmos and his four companions silently crested a small rise. The Gerudo camp was sprawled out underneath. Lying on their bellies, they observed the camp, and sought for guards in the dark with their night-seeing vision, another useful trait of the Sheikah.

"I want you to remain as unseen as possible," instructed Dakarmos. He talked in his passionless voice that emerged during a mission. "Call the shadows to you, for the fires have created many. Don't kill unless you need to, but if you have any qualms against harming women, disregard them now. I won't have any unmerited mercy shown on an enemy based on gender."

The four nodded grimly.

"Good. Scatter and search for the king. I suspect he will be in a tent like the others, probably exceedingly lavish. Don't go for the kill if he is outside his dwelling." Dakarmos pulled out a hand-sized crossbow. A tiny, poisoned dart was fitted to it. "Use the crossbows, and the stilettos only if you have to." He held out a small bag. "Take one, each of you. These are Deku nuts from the South. They will create a blinding flash upon impact."

The assassins fanned out and disappeared into the shadows of the night. Dakarmos ran lightly down the hill, his descending footfalls not even making a sound. He sought out the shadows, and called out to one near one of the fires. The shadow seemed to stretch toward him, and he knelt in its embracing darkness.

Two Gerudo warriors walked by, but a few feet away. One was leading a horse. The horse snorted and began sniffing at the unfamiliar smell of the Sheikah knight, but the Gerudo dragged it by its bridle on past.

Knees bent, Dakarmos stealthily ran around behind a tent, then to the next fire and its surrounding shadows. In this way, he ran from shadow to shadow or behind tents, dodging guards and beasts. At last, he saw a single large tent, but it was in the center of the camp, and safely lit by several large fires. Dakarmos cursed his luck, and began thinking of a strategy of attack. He considered making a mad dash, and trading his life for the life of his family, the Hylians, and the Royal Family.

A bright light flashed near the large tent. Several Gerudo grabbed up their weapons and ran toward the commotion. The chase was on. Dakarmos hoped that his comrade would live, though a growing despair made him doubt it.

There was one benefit of his comrade's sacrifice, however: only a few Gerudo were left around the fires, though several had now surrounded the large tent. Dakarmos drew a thin stiletto from his sleeve and placed it between his teeth. He then brought out his tiny crossbow, and then another, holding one in each hand. The crossbows were loaded with the fatal poisoned darts, and he held additional darts between his fingers. His red eyes gleamed with the anticipation of battle.

He ran toward the large tent, using the shadows as long as he could. The Gerudo saw him suddenly emerge like the grim specter of death, and were taken somewhat aback. Dakarmos fired the darts, and two Gerudo immediately collapsed. Twirling another dart in each hand around his fingers and placing it in the crossbow in one swift movement, he then cocked them one handed. He fired again, and now four Gerudo were dead.

Dakarmos ceased his charge and cocked the crossbows one last time as a dozen Gerudo ran to meet him. He fired, and then there were only ten. Tossing the crossbows to the ground, he took the stiletto from his teeth and threw. It stuck in the throat of another enemy.

The Sheikah knight threw back his midnight-blue cloak and drew his longsword and shortsword combination.

Steel met steel and the battle was joined. Dakarmos's blades moved like lightning, flashing red from the light of the fires and shedding brief blue sparks as the enchanted steel struck inferior weapons. For all his skill, however, he was hard pressed.

Suddenly, he heard a shout, and two of his comrades joined the fray.

Dakarmos crossed his blades over his head to avoid the powerful downward stroke of a Gerudo scimitar, then thrusted with the shortsword to stab the aggressor and swung wide with his longsword to parry a spear thrust from the side. He pumped his blades up and down, parrying two separate attackers.

This blitzkrieg maneuver had taken all but a single minute. The Gerudo were returning now, and others in the camp were bringing together some organization. Dakarmos heard hoofbeats nearing.

He dispatched his last two enemies, and his two comrades did theirs. Not bothering to use the entrance of the large tent, he instead cut through the side and leapt through, followed by his comrades.

There sat the Gerudo king on his golden throne with two charred corpses at his feet. The smell of burnt flesh permeated the room. He was looking at the corpses now, and appeared to be laughing.

Dakarmos sheathed his blades and jerked his arm forward, another stiletto flying out of his sleeve into his hand. He reared back, and threw.

The blade hit some sort of barrier, creating a sudden, blue flash, and fell to the ground with a single metallic note.

Dakarmos drew his swords, and his comrades took flanking positions. The Gerudo would be in here soon, but not before the Sheikah assassins slew their king.

Ganondorf looked up at the intruders. The Blackness called to him, told him to kill them. Ganondorf embraced the dark power and a blue fireball appeared in his hand. He stood up slowly, grinning like a madman.

The intruders exploded into motion, but Ganondorf threw the fireball at their feet, and they were thrown back against the tent wall. The smell of burnt flesh became stronger and fresher. Ganondorf's eyes gleamed golden with power, and his skin burned. He shouted a word of command, "Ulweyah!" and a bolt of energy shot forth from his hand. Lightning crackled around the three fallen intruders, causing their bodies to writhe.

Ganondorf gave a deep laugh. The Gerudo had reached the tent now, but did nothing. They stared dumbfounded at their king, shooting lightning and glowing with a fell radiance. They filled the entrance of the tent, standing motionless but a few feet from the intruders.

Ganondorf laughed again.

More intruders! said the Blackness. Char and blacken their bodies! Smell the sweet aroma of their burnt flesh!

Ganondorf chuckled madly as he shouted the spell again. Lightning hit the gathering of Gerudo, and that sweet smell of expended power and burnt flesh filled Ganondorf's nostrils.

Ganondorf stepped out of the tent, grabbing the unconscious body of one of the Sheikah intruders as he went. Chanting a few words whispered to him by the Blackness, the body erupted into flames. The body, only half sensing what was being done to it, moaned in agony. The mad king threw it at his confused subjects.

There's the one! There's the one named Nabooru! We fear her! She will die!

Nabooru saw the glowing form of her king, immolated in fire that seemed not to touch him. She screamed and ran.

Ganondorf laughed yet again. The flames around his body erupted into a more powerful brilliance and grew much larger. The bodies of several fallen Gerudo were consumed in the flames. Fire licked the tent behind him.

Amazed at this new toy of destruction, the mad king gave no more heed to Nabooru. Instead, he walked through the Gerudo camp, calling to the camp fires and making them explode, and burning Gerudo with his own flame.

The warrior women held their spears and scimitars, but they made no movement to harm their maniacal king. They did not how to act, and so acted not at all.

The Blackness was overjoyed with the orgy of fire and death. The Hunger was sated.

Dakarmos awoke to the smell of charcoal. All around him, the grass was singed and blackened, and small fires stilled burned. He was sitting up, but couldn't move. His hands were tied behind him around a stake set in the ground. He tried to stand up and pull the stake out, but it was too firmly embedded, and Dakarmos felt impossibly weak.

Three Gerudo approached him on horseback. They made all the appearances of looking queenly, and looked down at him with their eyes without tilting their heads downward in the least. The sun shone behind them.

Dakarmos squinted as he looked up at them. He spoke not a word.

"We flee, now," said the middle one. "But we claim you as a prisoner of battle. The spirits have punished us for seeking this fight, but you entered our grounds. We defended, and captured you. Thus, you are ours to claim."

Dakarmos continued to just squint up at them. He scowled.

The trumpets of approaching Hylian calvary sounded in the distance. A glimmer of hope awoke in Dakarmos, but it was quickly stolen as the Gerudo untied him and carried him to the awaiting caravan of the fleeing army..

Soon, he was on horseback between two woman heading southeast back toward the homelands of the Gerudo. His hands were still tied behind his back, so he maintained a precarious perch on the horse with his legs. His Gerudo escort explained to him that the horse obeyed only their commands, and that they could easily kill him with a single arrow if he tried to flee otherwise. He did not doubt their claim.

The day waned, and Dakarmos risked a few questions.

"Your friends are dead. We gave them proper death rights on the funeral pyre. Nabooru rescued you from the burning tent. She said you have yet a purpose to serve. We follow Nabooru now. Our king is gone."

They would not explain further.

That night, tied once again to the stake, four Gerudo approached him. One was more bejeweled than the others. He suspected she was this Nabooru they had mentioned.

"I am Nabooru," the bejeweled one said. Dakarmos nodded. "I lead our people now, with the sudden departure of our king." She spoke softly to the other three Gerudo, and they left her presence. It was only Dakarmos and Nabooru now.

"Despite what he did, we are still loyal to our king Ganondorf. I fear that he was the object of punishment by the spirits, and it is our responsibility to find him again."

"He did seem quite mad," idly and spitefully commented Dakarmos. He turned his head and spat.

"Indeed ... but he has been unsteady as of late. I have been watching him carefully, and I believe that an outside force is possibly controlling him. Before the outburst of the other night, he was speaking much to himself, but not actually to himself--to something else inside of him." Trepidation marred her beautiful features. She looked downward sadly.

Dakarmos narrowed his eyes and partially snarled his nose in disgust. "Why should I care for your precious king Ganondorf? He's a deranged murder, a psychotic killer."

Nabooru kicked Dakarmos with her hard riding boots. The Sheikah curled himself in a ball as he withstood the harsh beating. At last, Nabooru knelt down closely to him.

"There is a struggle within him," she said. "I felt it, and at last saw it up close. Whatever force is inside of him has not claimed him fully, yet ... there is still time to save him.

"I don't care whether you care for him or not. You have no choice in this matter. You will find him for us, and restore him to the Gerudo people."

Dakarmos began to make a fierce objection, but Nabooru lifted her hand to silence him.

"I have conferred with the spirits. You are the one chosen to save our king."

She took Dakarmos's head in her hands and began chanting. A profound sleepiness descended over Dakarmos, and he could not resist. Then, a new spell began. He felt an invisible chain--a spiritual chain--draped around his neck. He then felt another force, something pulling at him, making him want to follow it, like an inner compass.

Dakarmos left his daze. "What did you do?" he asked angered.

"Your soul is now bound to the task of finding our King Ganondorf. You can sense his direction, now, and you have no choice but to follow him."

"And if I object? The Order of the Red Eye owes allegiance only to themselves and to the Royal Family. Our will is strong."

"No will can break the bonds and chains that I have wrapped around your spirit. You will leave at the dawn with a horse and proper supplies. I will release you, and then you will search for our beloved King Ganondorf."

Dakarmos slumped against the stake. His new senses told him Ganondorf was to the south.

It was sheer torture for the Sheikah knight to trudge southward, away from his charges of Hyrule Castle, and away from his own people in the neighboring mountains. He looked northward over his shoulder to the menacing, towering peaks of the Death Mountains, knowing that somewhere at their feet was nestled the quaint village of his people, Karkariko. His wife Ulana and newborn daughter Impa awaited his return in that village, brought there during the war from Dakarmos's normal residence in Hyrule Castle. How he wished he could run to meet them, now that the threat of war was gone!

The sun was slowly becoming a rumor in the west, and Dakarmos dismounted his Gerudo horse and made camp for the night. His fire was a small light in the vast sea of grass called the Callad, a vast wilderness that a past King of Hyrule had claimed several hundred years ago. The warm, scented wind blowing the grass produced a sound like ocean waves--a sight Dakarmos had never seen. He ate some salted meat rations the Gerudo had provided him with. Then he lay down on his back near the edge of the circle of his fire break and watched the tops of the grasses dance among the backdrop of Nayru's myriad sky-lights.

The knight put his hands behind his head and shut his eyes. Women screamed in his thoughts, the screams of innocent girls whose father was a lunatic leading them to slaughter. Small blades protruded from their throats, and Dakarmos's own twin swords ripped into their tanned, tattooed skin. Blood spoiled the green grass of the Hylian fields. Then there were his own companions, spears wielded by those innocent girls entering Sheikah hearts. Then there was fire, blue and black and golden flames, gamboling among a fiery bedlam that rang with the cacophony of screams and moans of agony.

Then he saw hundreds of his people--for there were only hundreds now--being immersed in fire and blood just as the Gerudo camp was. Homes burst into flame. The vibrant red eyes of many young men and women flickered and died. Giants with skin like rock which Dakarmos had never seen before walked among the wreckage of the village, idling knocking the strong, stone homes down like thin wood.

The wind and whispered blessing of Nayru's lights lulled the tired Sheikah into a peaceful slumber, melting away his phantoms and worries. The fire became embers, and then even those cooled.

It was a viper. The snake hissed at Ganondorf; the reptile's eyes bored into his soul, corrupted by a fell taint. The viper's skin turned a dark blue color then melted away along with muscle and organs, reducing it to a mere skeleton. The skeleton was still very much alive, however, and lunged for Ganondorf's hand, for some reason stretched out to touch it like a cherished pet. He recoiled his stunned hand, and venom coursed through his veins. He looked down at his bit hand, but instead of fang marks, he saw a solitary triangle burned into his skin. The snake laughed at him in a dusty, grave-like voice.

Ganondorf leapt from his bed of soft grass and drew his scimitar. He spun around, checking his rear flank.

Only a dream ... another nightmare.

Ganondorf realized he had no idea why he was out here away from his people, alone in the wild Callad. The sun was just beginning to rise above the cliffs in the east, casting long shadows of the sparse trees dotting the rolling sea of grassy hills.

Ganondorf breathed deeply the fresh morning air, scented with dew. The pure air partially cleansed his troubled mind, giving him a temporary reprieve from his internal struggle that seemed to be lost in his mental recesses right now.

Then the visions took him.

People burning. His people. Innocent women, his warrior daughters. Some hundreds of years older than he, one possibly even the bearer of his future child, developing in the Gerudo pregnancy cycle of 50 years.

Burnt flesh. Expended power ... ah, food to sate the gnawing Hunger ....

NO! Ganondorf forced the images out of his mind, forced the Hunger down as well.

Ganondorf looked around him and checked his person. In his madness, he had not thought to bring supplies. Gerudo were trained for survival in harsh conditions, however, and the temperate grasslands of the Callad were hardly harsh.

Sniffing the air, Ganondorf thought he faintly smelled the scent of water, a scent very noticeable to the water-starved Gerudo. Walking southwest for near to a mile, he at last descended a small rise to a running stream.

The water was warm and flat, but quenched thirst nonetheless. Seeing that he at least had a canteen strapped to his belt, he filled it after drinking once more. Sitting under a willow that drank thirstily from the stream's waters, Ganondorf became lost in thought.

Eventually the sun rose and with it rose the heat as well, causing the forlorn Gerudo king to shrug off his armor. Despite the wealth of the gilded metal, he saw no use for it and so disregarded it as he stretched and began trudging toward the south.

South? Why south, when his people were northwest? The south pulled at him, and Ganondorf thought he heard the faint laughter of the dusty voice of a snake echoing in deep, darkened places.

The sun shone fiercely to Dakarmos's left as he continued riding southward, following his own intangible pull, on his hardy, Gerudo-bred mount. He felt his quarry growing closer, though he became worried as to how far he would have to travel when he noticed the glimmering waters of Lake Hylia off to his distant right.

It was only his second day, though, in his search for the lunatic King Ganondorf. What a cheerless and ultimately hopeless quest, he thought as he jogged onward. Suddenly a possibility of hope dawned on him, and he turned his mount around to the north and started riding in that direction.

A slightly queasy feeling came over him, but nothing more. Realizing that going northward didn't have any disastrous effect on him at all, he made up his mind to abandon his inflicted quest. At that single thought, however, a pain throbbed in Dakarmos's temples, and a profound sickness descended over him, causing him to fall of his horse and begin vomiting on the ground. The mount snorted in what seemed mild amusement as he soiled the carpet of green.

Wiping his mouth and glaring up at the horse as if it were somehow her fault, he mounted again and dejectedly continued his involuntary southward journey.

The back of Ganondorf's neck began to tingle, and he stopped his walking at the foot of a large hill he had just descended. Spinning around, he looked to the top of the hill, but saw no one.

He crept up to the top of the hill with great care, keeping below the tall grasses as he peeked over the crest. Less than half a mile away, he made out the form of a figure on horseback, galloping toward his direction as if he had been seen long before. Ganondorf cursed under his breath and loosened his scimitar.

Ganondorf thought for a moment, and decided that fleeing from a horsebacked rider would be useless, as well as hiding. The tall grass provided some cover, but he still would rather take his chances in combat than evasion. Rising from the grass, he waited at the top of the hill patiently for his pursuer to near.

A grim smile of satisfaction crossed Dakarmos's face as he galloped toward the lone figure of the Gerudo king. He suddenly realized, however, that if Ganondorf resisted, he would not know how to detain the madman from escape without killing him. Pushing this care from his mind, he decided that he'd happily settle for maiming the crazed killer.

Dakarmos felt his heart race as he leapt off his horse high into the air. Entering a flip, he drew his duel blades as he landed and immediately met the steel of Ganondorf's own gigantic scimitar. Dakarmos's swords crossed and recrossed, parrying the larger and heavier weapon wielded by the king. The Sheikah Knight was surprised, however, and the blinding speed at which Ganondorf could wield his heavy sword, matching Dakarmos's own agility.

The swords entangled in a wicked ballet, a perfect display of swordsmanship. Dakarmos parried left, right, left while his other sword stabbed low. Ganondorf leapt over this near-hit, kicking the knight in the nose at the peek of his jump.

Rage filled Dakarmos at the taste of his own blood on his lips. His vision blurred by the blow, he entered a bold maneuver. Holding his blades out straight, the warrior spun around like a corkscrew, meeting steel yet again as Ganondorf held onto his sword tightly with both hands.

Ganondorf slipped his own scimitar around Dakarmos's prone blades and thrusted toward the knight's chest. At the last possible second, Dakarmos's shortsword knocked away the attack, but the Sheikah decided to wisely jump back and end his press.

The mad, bloodthirsty king did not charge into Dakarmos's retreat and partial feint as he had planned, but instead he entered a comfortable stance and measured up his opponent.

Dakarmos entered his own stance and eyed Ganondorf menacingly. He spat blood from his mouth.

The king chuckled, but a distant look of confusion seemed to be on his face. "And you would be ... ?" he asked with grim amusement.

Amazed that the king seemed to have at least some of his sensibilities back, he replied with mock cordialness, "Lord Dakarmos of the Order of the Red Eye and Knight Retainer to the King of Hyrule." He tightened his grip on his swords, not lowering their tips one inch.

Ganondorf frowned. "And what business does a knight of Hyrule have attacking a lone traveller, a simple vagrant wondering in the wilderness of the Callad, an area the king surely cannot care much about?"

"I am not on an errand of the king, but sent out by Nabooru, Chiefess of the Gerudo. I was sent out to find you, their king, though I keep my own counsel on the wisdom of this quest."

Ganondorf stared blankly, staring through Dakarmos, into the horror of the events of a few days ago. An enraged killer. Mindless ... hunger he felt ... hunger for blood ... ah, the power ... then darkness.

Ganondorf dropped his sword and fell to his knees, his head falling into his open hands in anguish.

Dakarmos, taken surprise by the sudden display, let his sword trips drop as he inched forward. A whisper crossed his mind, a whisper of treachery, that he could slay the king now and not only return to his family and king, but end the Gerudo threat forever. He raised his longsword and licked his lips.

Ganondorf yelled and lunged for Dakarmos's legs, knocking the knight to the grass and causing him to lose his shortsword. Screaming, Ganondorf wrestled for Dakarmos's remaining blade.

"Murderer!" Ganondorf yelled. "Killer! You killed them all! The shadows take you, worm!"

Dakarmos flung the enraged king off of him and entered his battle stance, shortsword retrieved and readied as well. But Ganondorf sat on the grass, unmoving.

"What did I do?" the king whispered. "I killed them ... I killed them. I will lose all love ... I will sacrifice my humanity ...."

A twinge of sympathy entered Dakarmos, and he hatedGanondorf the more for it. End it now, he thought, and return home to Ulana and Impa. This is foolishness. End it now.

Ganondorf looked up at Dakarmos. "I must go south," he said. "In the south lies my destiny, whatever it may be. I will learn my fate there."

Dakarmos felt like screaming. He lifted his sword, but could not force himself to slay the prone king. "Then I must go with you," Dakarmos said bitterly.

"So be it, then," replied Ganondorf.

Seven suns passed and the unlikely travel companions said not a word to each other. Dakarmos continued riding his Gerudo horse while the king conceded to walk. Dakarmos did not feel like doing any special favors for the madman, and Ganondorf in his pride would not accept them, anyway.

Nonetheless, the hardy Gerudo warrior made good enough speed, a tribute to the race's stamina. They both stared at the ground most of the time, looking up occasionally to avoid the strange, flying flower-like monsters that inhabited the Callad. Perhaps one day this wild expanse will be tamed, thought Dakarmos.

Ganondorf's thoughts dwelt on the strange Gerudo female Nabooru. Before the madness had taken his mind for a time, he had felt some sort of attraction to the girl which he usually did not feel. A repulsion to his Blackness seemed to be focused around her. The Blackness feared her, and for that, Ganondorf was glad.

Of late, his Hunger had not returned. Perhaps the energies of the Hunger were being directed in this new drive, this incessant desire to journey south. Ganondorf decided that if it were that same Hunger working in yet a different way, he still welcomed the change, for the Blackness that tainted his heart and mind seemed more distant and elusive, now.

Dakarmos glanced over at Ganondorf, who appeared lost in some sort of inner struggle. Madman, thought the knight. I'm journeying with a madman, farther and farther away from my home. Damn those Gerudo, he thought.

And damn this snake's son of a king, too.

Ganondorf and Dakarmos were silently eating some roots they had boiled when the Gerudo finally spoke for the first time in a week. "What do you know of the south?" he asked.

Dakarmos looked up and narrowed his eyes at Ganondorf, then continued eating his meal.

The king jumped to his feet and drew his scimitar, pointing it at Dakarmos's throat in one fluid motion. "I asked a simple question!" he screamed.

Dakarmos saw fear in Ganondorf's eyes and no desire to kill. Who, still, can trust the actions of a madman? Dakarmos stayed calm and at last acknowledged the unstable man. Ganondorf sheathed his weapon and plopped back down, calm and aloof to everything once again.

"The Callad stretches for countless miles, flanked on either side by Lake Hylia and the Dimwood, or the Lost Woods called by some. We're long pass those, now, though I can still make them out with my Sheikah-born eyesight."

Dakarmos paused and looked over his shoulder absently.

"Beyond that," he continued, "we know only that these grasslands finally become shoreline. The South Sea, it is called, though I've never seen it. The sages say that's where the Hylian people originally came from, long before the Sheikah race split from them. But even to the wisest loremasters, those days are but myth and rumor."

Ganondorf nodded. "My people tell legends of the south as well, that long ago, an evil man called simply the Necromancer ruled the Gerudo and the Hylians. We considered the Hylians our brothers in those days, and we were little different, for the Gerudo had as many sons as daughters then, before the Cursing." He glared at Dakarmos. "But the Hylians betrayed us, and from those betrayers, the Necromancer bred the Sheikah, his servants of darkness. And it was many long centuries before the Necromancer and the Sheikah were defeated, and the Sheikah pledged allegiance to the Six Sages."

"Apparently you know more about my people's history than I do," Dakarmos spat out sarcastically. "Care to enlighten me more?"

Ganondorf laughed. "The Gerudo have always kept better lore than your Hylian Loremasters. Fools. Tablet and scroll decay, but song endures forever."

Dakarmos said not a word of refutation but chewed solemnly.

It was a lone tower, stretching up from the rocky harbor's shore like a broken finger, decayed and shriveled. Perhaps it was a watch tower for ships in ancient days, or the last monument of a once glorious empire.

Ganondorf stared up at it in amazement as Dakarmos dismounted onto the browning, dried turf. The sea hissed against the shore like a specter moaning in the night, and the wind whistled a rumor of distant storms. The sun was low on the coast to the west, spreading it's red glow across the forsaken land and only further increasing the shadows that surrounded the tower.

"This is where my Hunger drives me ... here is my destiny," the king whispered.

Dakarmos nodded grimly and loosened his blades. Ulana's smile played in his mind, but a shadow fell over that as he suddenly saw her engulfed in flame. Shaking his head, he dismissed the evil thoughts.

The dry ground crunched underneath their boots as they approached the tower. The wind was cold. The sea's hiss undulated in waves of foreboding.

Together they circled the tower, and finally found the door facing the sea, away from the setting sun. The shadows were thick as they entered the coverless doorway, and Dakarmos lighted one of the torches he had prepared upon spotting the tower about half a day ago.

Piles of stone were strewn about carelessly, but aside from that, nothing occupied the hollow ruin. A lone spiraling staircase dominated the center of the round chamber.

Ganondorf led the way as Dakarmos followed closely behind with the torch. Their shadows played upon the walls like dancing abyssal midges, frolicking in the evil about to take place. Ganondorf emitted an audible gulp and drew his giant scimitar, nodding to Dakarmos, who drew his longsword with his free hand.

At last they entered another round chamber, lighted by a single window to the east. Little light shone through as the sun was descending on the opposite side of the tower, but at least the curvature of the chamber allowed for no dark recesses. Unlike the bottom chamber, this room was clean of any debris. A small alter sat against the far wall.

Dakarmos and Ganondorf approached the alter together. It was simple and unremarkable. Etched upon its surface was what appeared to be Hylian script, but it was of a sort Dakarmos had never seen before. Above the script was carved the timeless symbol of the Triforce, but a skull-like rune was set at it's center.

Ganondorf stared at the script and began muttering what sounded to be a translation. "Da Necrisovra retene va gelloune ai, Quae Deis et exalamis os Trinitae arcanum. De Deis os Chronos es imei. Swear now fealty to the Necromancer, the Fourth God and Keeper of the magic of the Triforce. For he is the God of Time."

"What does it mean?" asked Dakarmos. "Fourth God? Keeper of the magic of the Triforce? The Triforce is in the Sacred Realm, not this tower!"

Ganondorf gave Dakarmos a look that told him he was a fool. He began searching for more script while Dakarmos glanced around nervously. The sun had set.

"Ganondorf!" Dakarmos yelled as steel rang upon steel.

Ganondorf turned and saw Dakarmos, wielding longsword and torch desperately, battling what appeared to be a living shadow. Shadow was the apparition's weapons, but they sounded out the ring of real steel nonetheless. A thought perhaps whispered by the Blackness sprang into Ganondorf's mind, and he told the shadow to depart.

The shadow warrior dissolved into nothingness. Dakarmos stared blankly at where it had been.

"We should leave, now," declared the Sheikah. He turned in the direction of the stairs, but only the stone floor was there. Somehow, the only escape, save through the window, had disappeared.

"Not so fast," a dusty, snakelike voice hissed. Amusement glazed its venomous speech.

A man, or what at least appeared to be man-height and shaped, materialized out of the growing darkness. Clad in black, he seemed to be one with the shadows, except for his strange eyes, which seemed to glow a dull purple. The long flowing robe covered all of his features, and a hood concealed all but those menacing eyes and the long, striggy white locks that normally would have been found only on an aging corpse.

Dakarmos's hands shook in fear as he faced the dark man.

Recognition instantly hit Ganondorf, and the events of his childhood vision quest suddenly returned to him. There was the Blackness personified! Here it was, the evil in his soul, his heart of darkness.

Ganondorf screamed and charged the black-clad man, leading with his giant scimitar. Slamming into some barrier of unseen force, he collapsed on the ground at the man's feet, and the shadowy specter looked up at the shivering Dakarmos.

"The fear ..." said Dakarmos, "cold ...."

"Does my strength over wills impress you, Dakarmos?" hissed the black-clad man. "Verily do I have power over those minds I enslaved long ago."

Dakarmos turned the tip of his blade toward his own stomach. Dakarmos's eyes widened in fear, and sweat appeared on his forehead. His hand wavered, but the steel inched forward.

Dakarmos pushed the tip of the blade into his own armor. He squinted his eyes in pain. Suddenly, his body froze and the sword dropped to the ground, its very tip coated with blood. Dakarmos fell to the ground, sobbing.

"So hard to break a Sheikah Knight," mocked the black-clad man. "Protectors of the Royal Family? No, insolent Hylians who twice betrayed their brothers!" He kicked the fallen knight.

Ganondorf rose to his feet slowly. Now he tried searching for the Blackness, for the evil power, but it wasn't there. He knew it would be the only thing that could possibly harm the black-clad man.

"Ah, my young Ganon," spoke the black-clad man proudly to Ganondorf. "You finally desire to use your powers, if even against your teacher. Fuel your hate with the taint of the darkness you feel. Embrace it and feel its power."

Ganondorf walked over to the prone form of Dakarmos and eyed him with anger.

"Burn and blacken his body," the black-clad man intoned, "smell the sweet aroma of your spent power. Taste his death."

Dakarmos crawled away from Ganondorf, then rose to his feet shakily. The madness appeared to have returned to the king as the Gerudo walked steadily and threateningly towards him. Dakarmos lifted his swords in response, ready to die fighting.

Without warning, Ganondorf spun around and fired a blue bolt of energy at the black-clad man. The evil man wailed in his snake-like voice as the barrier of energy failed to block energy of the same nature.

Dakarmos took this opportunity to charge the black-clad man with his duel blades leading. Whether the barrier had been weakened somehow, or his own shear force or will broke through it, Dakarmos did not know, but what he did know was that his blades bit through those dark robes into tangible flesh.

The sound of blood dripping from Dakarmos's swords echoed ominously about the room as the black-clad man stumbled backward. He fell against the wall and raised a single, gloved hand, pointing at Ganondorf.

"Your hate makes you powerful, young Ganon," he gasped. "My old body has not felt the sting of steel in many years ...." The black-clad man ceased his slumping and stood erect. "But steel and weapons of man are useless against me."

The black-clad man shrugged off the heavy robe, revealing a strong and youthful body, clad in the garb of a Sheikah Knight. His eyes did not gleam with the dull purple as before, but with a fiery red. The dark knight held up a longsword and shortsword combination, forged of blue flame instead of steel. He proudly threw back his midnight-blue cloak.

Dakarmos gasped as he saw what appeared to be some dark reflection of himself.

"Now you see that there is no hope," spoke Dakarmos's reflection in the Sheikah's own strong and regal voice. "I am the God of Time and Master of Shadows; Lord of Past, Present, and Future; Forger, Keeper, and Juror."

As one, Dakarmos and Ganondorf lunged forward with their blades at the dark reflection. The reflection parried with skill and speed far surpassing that of even Dakarmos, as if his own fighting style had been improved ten times over.

Dakarmos felt his arm jar with an electrical shock each time his blades met the reflection's. Each successful parry felt nearly as bad as an actual hit, and Dakarmos began to tire visibly. Ganondorf seemed inhuman, now, his eyes gleaming golden with power and his own scimitar outlined in a fierce blue light.

The reflection ducked under a right slash from Dakarmos's longsword, then used the duck to spin around and sweep-kick Ganondorf, knocking the Gerudo to the ground. The reflection then lunged toward Dakarmos, stabbing and slashing incessantly with the magic-wrought swords. The Sheikah noticed his swords being forced lower and lower by each attack, and wasn't surprised when a sudden downward cut came from the reflection's longsword.

Dakarmos crossed his swords in an X over his head, but the impact and the jarring of the magic caused him to fall under the blades. Rolling to the left, he barely escaped a thrust that would have ended him.

Ganondorf rose and re-entered the fray. Raising his left palm, the king fired a bolt of blue light at the reflection, but it crossed its swords and sliced the shot into nothingness. Ganondorf followed his magic with a charge, but he met only nothingness.

Recalling an ability once observed of the black-clad man in his youth, Ganondorf quickly spun and fired a bolt of energy.

The energy struck the reflection, who had appeared behind him. Enraged, it entered a fierce bout with the king. The reflection slammed its swords again and again against Ganondorf's sword, finally causing it to break into shards under the impact of the fiery, superior weapons.

Dakarmos ran in toward his reflection from the side, but he slammed instead against the renewed magical barrier.

Ganondorf blinked his eyes, and the reflection of Dakarmos became the black-clad man once again, features again concealed by robes.

"You fight well, Ganon, and use your abilities in excellent harmony with your original, more conventional form of combat. But never again will you have use for this." He pointed at the broken scimitar.

Ganondorf panted heavily. "I came here deciding that I would accept whatever destiny fate has decided. I still attempted to reject my road, and yet now it seems all too clear ...." The troubled king sighed and shook his head.

"Sometimes Time already has a plan for us, young Ganon," hissed the black-clad man, "but even though you'll often doubt your path, eventually you will discover what your true destiny is."

"And what is that?" asked Ganondorf.

"Only time will teach you."

Dakarmos, his mind reeling in the stun he had received, neared to swooning. Fighting this back, however, he slowly rose and backed away from room's other occupants. Wiping blood from his mouth, he glared at them and readied his guard.

"And now you must kill," spoke the black-clad man, not even sparing a glance at the Sheikah. "The Sheikah are betrayers, and have always been murders. Assassins. Killing at the whim of the Royal Family, heedless of the designs of the spirits."

The man finally looked at Dakarmos, purple eyes gleaming in the darkness. "And this one is the most pitiful of their breed. His spritual seed will spawn your demise, though in destruction will you only find greater strength. And that is why you will triumph."

Ganondorf nodded to the black-clad man. A despair suddenly entered the Gerudo, and he knew that in spirit, this was the moment that he sacrificed his humanity. The Blackness called to him. Ganondorf remembered the golden triangles that gleamed on the black-clad man's forehead when he had revealed himself in the ancient temple so long ago, and suddenly he understood. He looked at the black-clad man in awe, then glanced over at the alter at the back of the room. Ganondorf chuckled to himself.

Seeing his destruction in Ganondorf's eyes, Dakarmos screamed the name of his beloved wife as he charged. Steel bit into Ganondorf's side as blue fire engulfed the knight, and simultaneously Ganondorf and the black-clad man yelled out in pain from the single strike.

Dakarmos smelled the scent of his own burning flesh, his skin screamed out in agony. But suddenly, a peace fell over him, and as he was swallowed up by the floor, the pain left him. The face of his daughter Impa entered his mind, and then the face of another, and he knew he was of his blood though not a Sheikah.

"Into Farore's waiting arms I deliver myself ...."

But not to Farore's arms did Dakarmos go, and instead his spirit was whisked beyond the dark tower, across the rolling grasses of the Callad, and into the land of the Hylians, where it entered the belly of a young Hylian woman.

Ganondorf looked over at the black-clad man.

"The Seed of Farore has been sown."

The King of the Gerudo felt the Blackness very keenly, now, no longer recoiling from it but loving and embracing it. It fueled his power and hate, reducing the Hunger to a mere reminder that greater things awaited him. Already he strove for the ancient texts that would tell him the secret of crossing into the Sacred Realm, where the Triforce he would claim as his own.

He reminded himself of one other quest, though, given by his own will: to rid the world of the Sheikah.

Hyrule stood on the brink of war. A war in which Ganondorf knew would embroil all the races of Hyrule.

The sorceror king sat on his throne and laughed.

Time would teach him.