{{ Future Hyrule }}

It’s late.

I sigh as I pull on my helmet. It always is now. I spend too much time at the museum, the archives, the lab for artifact preservation... As of late, my life revolves around my work.

That bothers me. I mean, I love what I do -- that’s why I’m a historian -- but at the same time... I miss hanging out with the guys. The last night I had off was the night I went to the club with Marin, and it’s been over a month since then.

At least Chambers hasn’t said anything about being some legendary hero anymore. I chalk it all up to a joke, some kind of prank on the new guy. It’s easiest that way. I try to pretend that I didn’t have that strange vision at the club.

My motorcycle roars to life, and I pull out onto the street. The streets are mostly empty, but that’s normal. This part of Northcastle is always dead this time of night. If I want noise and crowds, I can always head towards the university; it’s always busy there.

But I want quiet, and I know a perfect place for that. East, towards the ocean, across the mountains. Parapa Desert, in the shadow of Mount Parapa. The legends say that the mountain was actually a temple once, but that in his efforts to awaken the sleeping princess, the hero who slew Ganon turned it into a mountain.

Sure, the shore is popular with beachgoers and boaters, but Mount Parapa and the great Stone Circle to the south are more interesting to me, and far less popular with the average person. I like them. They’re both very peaceful and very ancient places, and there’s just something about them that I like.

Which is why I’m driving out there tonight. Yeah, it’s a silly reason, but well, sometimes I do silly things. I can’t be serious all the time. I might end up like Chambers and start thinking the new hire’s some reincarnated hero or something.

I roll my eyes at that thought. I still don’t know where he got that idea in his head, but I wish the old man would get it out. It’s embarrassing.

“Link, I’m not thinking about this anymore,” I say aloud. Besides, I’m at the city limits already; there’s nothing but miles of empty highway between me and the Desert Tunnel. I speed up, going faster and faster until I’m flying down the asphalt, and everything seems to fall away. For a few precious minutes, I’m free.

It’s a beautiful night. The sky is clear and moonless. The weather’s cool, but not cold, although the wind I’m making by riding fast is chilly enough that I’m glad I’ve got my jacket and gloves. In some ways, it’s a shame I don’t have any of my gear in my bike’s storage compartments; this would be a nice night to camp out.

And I’m at the Tunnel. The lights that line its walls seem bright, almost too much after driving in the dark. I narrow my eyes slightly. The Tunnel is completely empty, but that’s not that much of a surprise. Who would be traveling to or from the little resort villages and state monuments after midnight in the early fall?

I don’t bother slowing down. There’s no one here, and I hardly ever get the chance to push my Epona to its limits. It’s a custom job, a one-of-a-kind bike that Mido claims is supposed to be one of the fastest bikes in Hyrule. But most of the riding I do is around Northcastle, and there’s no way I can go all-out on those chaotic streets. I like my head to be on my shoulders.

Light gleams off of something behind me, something moving. There’s actually someone else out here tonight? It takes me a minute to recognize the vehicle coming up behind me; it’s a motorcycle, a black motorcycle with its lights off for some odd reason. I mean, I understand we’re in a well-lit tunnel, but what kind of madman drives around with no lights this time of night?

The motorcycle pulls into the next lane, only to pull up beside me and match my speed. Light gleams off the rider’s helmet as he glances over at me.

I glance back. He’s dressed in black, the only color on him anywhere deep red stripes running down the sleeves of his jacket. And now that I can actually get a decent look at it, his motorcycle looks a lot like an Epona custom... except that shouldn’t be possible.

He stares at me. I can’t see his face, nor he mine, with all the lights reflecting off our visors, but I can still feel his gaze piercing into me. Why is he pacing me?

We leave the tunnel then; he turns his headlight on, still staring at me. Then he turns his head to look down the highway and nods his head towards one of the better lit overlooks. He wants me to pull over?

Should I? What if he wants to start trouble? No, if he wants to start trouble, he would have already started it. I pull into the parking lot, glad for the streetlights. I turn off the engine -- because, really, he probably wants to talk, and that’ll be so much easier if we don’t have to yell over each other’s engines. I raise my visor.

He pulls up beside me and shuts his bike down, leaning back in the saddle before flipping his visor up and staring at me. His eyes are dark red. It’s an unusual color. I know I don’t know him. I know exactly one person with red eyes, and Sheik’s are nowhere near that dark and vivid. And Sheik doesn’t know how to ride a motorcycle, either.

“You wanted to talk about something?” I ask, leaning on the handlebars.

“I just wanted to talk to you, Link,” he replies. I scowl. How does he know my name?

He snickers. “It’s always so much fun messing with your head.” He pulls his helmet off, shaking his shoulder-length hair free.

And all I can do is stare at him. Black hair, dark skin... but that isn’t the weird part. The really weird part is his face. He... he looks almost exactly like me.

I yank my helmet off. “What’s going on here?”

“You and I are talking.”

“And who are you?”

He grins, flashing his fangs. Wait, fangs? Normal people don’t have fangs! “I have a lot of names. I think I like Dark Link the best.”

“Dark Link?” Dark me? “What are you, some kind of evil me?”

And he laughs, forcing out what sounds like “ask me that every time” between breaths and laughs. I glare at him; I don’t find this the least bit amusing.

Finally, he calms down, grinning broadly. “Is the night evil?”

“What kind of a question is that?”

He points at me. “The kind that Link needs to answer.”

I sigh. “Fine. No, in and of itself, night is not evil.” I close my eyes. What is he getting at? When I open my eyes again, he’s right in front of me, staring deep into my eyes like he’s looking for something. How did he dismount and walk several feet without me hearing him?

“I’m not evil either, Link. I’m just your shadow.”

I look down at the ground. My shadow, a man on a motorcycle, stretches across the empty parking lot. He doesn’t have a shadow, nor does his bike; the shadows say I’m alone, even though he’s right in front of me. I reach up and put a hand on his shoulder. He’s real, and he’s warm.

But how can anything with substance not cast a shadow?

“Shadows don’t cast shadows, Link.”

“Shadows don’t have substance, either!” I snap.

“I do,” he says softly, smirking, leaning in until our noses are practically touching.

“All right then, what makes you such a special shadow?” I climb off my bike and step away, my boots crunching on the gravel. I want away from him.

He puts a hand on my bike and leans against it before grinning at me again. I barely hold back a shiver. “Well, you see, I’m not just any shadow. I just so happen to be the Chosen Hero’s shadow.”

Wait, that means... not this again. “I’m not a hero!” I yell, glaring daggers at him. Chambers put him up to this, didn’t he? That damned old man! No, that still doesn’t explain why he looks so much like me, or why he isn’t casting a shadow.

“Not yet, no.” He shrugs. “But you’ve got that spark in you.” He laughs at that, rocking his head back to stare up at the stars. “Damn, does that sound stupid.” He shakes his head. “Look, there’s a tiny part of your soul that never, ever changes, no matter what. That part is what makes the rest of you a hero. All you have to do is listen to it.”

I cross my arms. “So what? I’m some reincarnated hero?” I snort. “How much is Chambers paying you to tell me this?”

“Who? I’m doing this on my own, you damned idiot. Besides, I can offer something that I’m betting this Chambers guy can’t. Something that should force you to face the truth.”

Uh-huh, I think. Keep trying. “And that is?”

“The Master Sword.” He smirks. “Oh, wait, do you even recognize it by that name?”

I can’t answer him; my mind is replaying my vision from the night I met Kafei, the image of a gleaming blade humming with power searing itself into my mind.

“So,” he sounds pleased, “you do remember. Good. Bet that’s all you know about it, isn’t it?”

“Think about this, Link. The Master Sword, the blade of evil’s bane, the sacred weapon of the Chosen Hero of Hyrule, the sword that has saved Hyrule countless times.”

I stare at him. “That would be the single greatest find in Hylian history... Imagine what it would mean for all the legends of the hero if that sword could be proven to exist! You know where it is? Tell me!”

“Now, now, now,” he says, walking over to the fence around the edge of the lot. “There’s just one little detail that I haven’t mentioned yet. Not just anyone can touch the sword. And therein lies my proof: anyone who desires that blade must prove himself worthy to bear it.”

“How?”

“What? You think I know everything? I know where to go; I can lead you there.” He turns around and looks at me. “That is, if you’re brave enough to challenge the sword.”

“I’m not a coward.”

“Never said you were. Now, are you going?”

Didn’t I just answer that? “Yes. Now where is it?”

“Aren’t we forgetting something?” he whispers in my ear; when did he move? “For one, it’s a good two days’ ride to get there, and you’ll need supplies. Two, you’ll need a way to defend yourself. I’m going to assume someone like you knows how to use some kind of weapon?”

I turn and meet his gaze. “I’m good with a bow.”

“Good enough. Now,” he reaches up and starts tracing my jaw. “Go get your gear, and make sure you’re ready for this. Allow a week, and be prepared to fight hard. Wouldn’t want to make Mikau worry, now would you?”

“And how am I supposed to let you know I’m ready?” I’m not paying attention to his hand; I’m not feeling that weird feeling deep in my stomach.

“I’ll know, Link. I know everything about you.”

I step away. “No, you don’t.”

He grins coldly. “Oh, yes, I do. Let me see... I know all about the night you broke the spine of that old book Chambers was studying. You never have admitted to that, have you?”

No one’s supposed to know that. I was the only one in the entire wing at the time; I’ve never told anyone. How does he know that?

“See? Your shadow sees everything you do. I’m always here, and I’m always watching.” He kisses my forehead. This is getting really creepy. He acts like he’s known me for years, but he can’t. Can he...?

He walks away, climbing onto his motorcycle and pulling on his helmet. “See you around, Link!” And then he starts his bike and speeds away, towards Northcastle. He’s riding without his lights on again. How can he even see? Can shadows see in the dark?

No, he can’t be a shadow. He can’t be my shadow. Even if he does know about that book. Even if he does look so much like me.

I climb onto my bike and slide my helmet on, eyeing my reflection in one of the mirrors before slamming my visor down in place.

“See you around, whoever you are,” I mutter, starting my bike. No, I’m not calling him by the name he gave me. He isn’t me. He doesn’t deserve my name.

I pull back onto the highway and head for home, driving fast. This is all just stress. I need more sleep than I’ve been getting. I’m seeing things. That’s the only explanation I can come up with that makes any sense at all, because shadows don’t take form and walk and talk on their own. That isn’t possible.

xXx

The apartment’s empty when I get there. That’s right; Mikau is at some dance contest with his girlfriend. I’d forgotten about that.

Well, since he isn’t here to talk to, I guess I’ll just go to bed. I stagger into my room and start to throw my jacket onto my desk like I always do, but there’s already a jacket there: a black one with red stripes down the sleeves.

He’s here? I snatch up my bow and an arrow and start searching, first my room and then the entire apartment. I know he’s here somewhere.

He laughs. He’s sitting on the couch, looking like he’s made himself at home, except I know he hadn’t been there when I walked through the room half a minute ago.

I nock the arrow and aim at him. “How’d you get in here?”

He eyes the arrow before saying flatly, “I’m your shadow, remember?”

“That’s impossible!”

He stands up -- and then he has a bow in his hands, the arrow aimed at me, the weapon seemingly materializing out of thin air. “How many times am I going to have to explain this to you?”

“What?”

“I’m your shadow. What part of that is so damned hard to grasp?”

Fine. I’ll focus on something else. “Why are you here?”

“I have my reasons.”

Yes, indeed, this is creepy, and it’s getting worse by the minute. “That isn’t good enough.”

“Look, quit aiming that thing at me and maybe I’ll talk.”

Maybe? I slowly lower my bow, watching as he does the same. “All right, start talking.”

He starts snickering again. “I didn’t know you liked it so rough.”

“Stop that!” He keeps acting like there’s something between us. I don’t know him! He can’t know me!

“You never really change, do you?”

I hurl my bow to the floor. “I’m not who you think I am, Thrice damn it! I’m not this great hero! I’m a historian! Stop treating me like I’m someone else!”

He drops the bow, although I never hear it hit the floor, and wraps his arms around me. “It’s okay. You’ll understand soon enough.”

“I don’t want to understand this!” This feels... familiar somehow. Why? I don’t know him...

He sighs. “Stubborn as ever. I’m not going to hurt you.”

He never has. I frown at that thought. How do I know that?

“And hopefully, you’re not going to hurt me. Didn’t think a historian would be so strong.”

“I practice with my bow a lot.” Why am I telling him this?

He starts walking slowly, his arms still around me, pulling me along with him. “I bet you’re a damned good shot, too.” He laughs. “Wait, this means I actually get to teach you how to use a sword, doesn’t it?”

“Well... I don’t know how to fight with one.”

“Such irony! You’re considering risking your life for something you can’t even use!”

“It’s an artifact,” I mumble, suddenly very sleepy. “It needs to be preserved.”

“Tch, it’s your sword.”

“No, it isn’t.” I lean against him as we stop.

“Yes, it -- oh, whatever. You’ll either figure it out, or you won’t.” He shoves me back, and I fall -- onto my bed? “Get some sleep.”

“Okay,” I say, curling up in the blanket. I hear him moving papers around on my desk. “You’d better not be messing up my notes.”

He sighs. “I’m not going to. Good night, Link.”

“Good night, Dark.”

xXx

“Yo, Link! You awake yet?”

I groan. “I am now...”

I had the weirdest dream last night. Meeting my shadow, finding out the Master Sword exists... I’ve got to stop working so late.

“C’mon! I’ve got something I wanna show you!”

Can’t this wait? I climb slowly out of bed and stagger over to the door. Wait, there’s something I don’t recognize on my desk.

It’s a map. A hand-drawn map that shows the way to something beyond the Road of Death. A small Triforce -- ha, ha, funny -- marks the small town of Waypoint, along with the words “meet here.”

It... wasn’t a dream. Dark is going to lead me to the Master Sword. No one is ever going to believe this.

“Don’t make me drag you out of there!”

I open the door and glare out at Mikau. He looks far too perky for someone who’s been up all night.

“We did it, Link! Lu and I won!” He holds up a trophy.

I blink. “You did? That’s awesome, Mikau!”

“Yeah, we were going to call the gang up and go celebrate; you wanna come?”

“Sure.” It’ll be nice to get away from that map for a while, because I’m already starting my list of necessary gear, and I don’t even know when I’ll be able to leave.

I get ready fast, grabbing my jacket on the way out the door. It’s warm, like someone just took it off.

Dark’s been wearing my jacket? Why? He’s got his own! Damn, can he be creepy...

Next Chapter