Link followed the sloping path until it emptied into the remains of a large plaza just north of the ruined temple. A crumbling fountain, long devoid of water, sat at its center. The surrounding flagstones were either covered or dislodged by grass and shrubbery whose patience had been rewarded with triumph over man-laid stone.

The courtyard had clearly served as a place of gathering long ago. It connected two broad staircases, one leading up to the temple, the other descending further north toward Link’s ultimate destination. He followed the latter, noting the broken stumps of once-proud pillars that lined his path.

At the base of the stairs lay another spread of flagstones, the far side of which was interrupted by a long stretch of deep, stagnant water. More broken pillars jutted out of the pond like fingers clawing for air. Just as he was about to turn right toward his destination, Link saw something half-submerged in the water that made his stomach clench with unremembered dread.

Three clawed and metal talons lay open and dully gleaming, attached to a sinuously curved arm. Other identical arms lay at awkward angles, all running back to a squat, bell-shaped husk adorned with swirls and whorls similar to those within the Shrine of Resurrection. The entire object was made of metal, yet it gave the impression of a life-like ability to move, to writhe, to strike.

It was the top of the thing that caused Link to unconsciously grip the handle of his stick until his knuckles showed bone-white. Inlaid just above its wider base and surrounded by swirling patterns was a lifeless, circular eye.

Link could not see why the object — which exhibited massive signs of rust and decay — would cause him to feel such fear. He only knew that it did, and that he would never trust that spherical orb to remain lifeless no matter how long it appeared to be so. He backed away from the thing and the stagnant pool that had become its grave, not taking his eye away until one of the taller, broken pillars obstructed it from view. Only then did he release the death grip on his stick.

Ever since the decline of the kingdom one hundred years ago, it has sat abandoned, in a state of decay.

The old man’s words came unbidden to Link’s mind. They had specifically described the temple, true, but everything else Link had thus far seen seemed equally forsaken.

Shaking off an involuntary shiver, Link consulted his Sheikah Slate. As he had guessed, the map’s golden dot could only be the tall, brown mound that stood just two hundred or so paces northeast from where he now stood. Eyeing the small pond one last time, Link resumed his trek toward his destination.

As he drew closer, Link saw that the mound was nothing more than a misshapen hill of grass and dried mud. Upon circling the thing, Link discovered part of the knoll to be hallowed out. Jutting from within the cavity was a man-made something. What it was, he could not tell, but its design hearkened to the those who had constructed the Shrine of Resurrection. Bronzed legs held up an oblong sphere of the same metal-like substance that had comprised the bed in which he had awoken. Inscribed on it and facing directly toward him, was the eye sigil with which he was becoming increasingly familiar. From the sphere’s underbelly hung a four-sided stalactite of black stone that narrowed to a blunt point. Bronze constellation patterns were etched halfway down its length.

Link was just gathering himself for the small climb up the mound for a closer look when he heard a primitive squeal, followed by something ramming him in the stomach and sending him crashing to the ground.

His breath driven from him, Link frantically blinked away the swimming lines in his vision even as he fought to dislodge his attacker. It stank of a midden, and its breath smelled even worse. Link could both hear and feel the mindless snapping of jaws trying to find his throat while hands and feet scrabbled to keep him pinned to the ground until the kill was made.

With a mighty heave, Link hurled the thing off of him, leaped to his feet and in one motion freed the stick from the belt slung over his back. Still struggling to regain his breath, he beheld his new foe.

The creature’s skin was a dull red, like clay recently sodden with rain. It gathered in flaps and sags at bony joints while stretching tautly over a belly too large for its otherwise gangly body. Its ears were large, floppy and pointed. The creature sported only a handful of teeth, each square, dull and dirty. Its face resembled that of a pig, as did its challenging squeals. Only three stubby fingers, all bearing broken and dirty claws, sprouted from each hand, while hooves appeared where feet should have been.

Link heard additional squeals and saw two more of the creatures screaming encouragement from higher up on the hill. One of them carried a bow, but it appeared content urging its companion for the time being.

The beast facing him, Link knew, must be dealt with first. Clad only in a soiled loincloth, it wielded a roughly-made wooden club. With another squeal of rage, the monster leaped straight at him, weapon upraised and ready to strike.

As smoothly and naturally as breathing, Link sidestepped the creature’s wild attack. The club rebounded with a clack off a half-hidden flagstone, and Link quickly moved in to take advantage. Once, twice, thrice, Link struck the beast’s head with his stick. His movements were swift but powerful, and the thing immediately collapsed in a broken heap.

Screams of rage erupted from the side of the rock outcropping, and Link realized one of the fallen monster’s comrades was urging the other to loose an arrow at him. Thinking quickly, Link snatched the club dropped by his fallen foe and dove to his left. The shaft buried itself into the ground where he had stood a moment before.

Quickly sheathing his stick, Link sprinted toward them, his rapid approach forcing the archer into a rushed job of nocking a fresh arrow to its bow. Link was now very close to the pair, but still on much lower ground. Thinking quickly, he wedged his right foot into a small rock protruding from the side of the hill and leaped high into the air.

In the instant Link hovered at near eye level with the beasts, he hurled the club straight at the archer. The crude weapon’s round and weighted end gave it further impetus, and Link’s aim was true. It struck the monster squarely between the eyes, which rolled back into its head before it tumbled down the hillside. Link rolled out of his landing and back to his feet to face the last monster standing.

The archer’s bow had fallen from the ledge on which the creature stood, robbing it of an easy kill. Link saw with dismay, however, that the monster had seized its own weapon which had been lying in wait: a short, metal sword.

Link drew his stick once more, which he saw at a glance had already begun to splinter from its first kill. One slash of the sword which would certainly turn the paltry weapon into splinters.

The beast clambered down to the plateau and began circling Link, its tongue hungrily licking stained and yellowed teeth. Link eyed the creature’s sword warily, waiting for his opportunity.

The monster rushed, slashing the air wildly. The air whistled around empty air as Link leaped backward. The beast swung again, and again Link retreated just out of reach. Enraged at its own futile efforts, the thing stabbed forward this time in an effort to finish its infuriating quarry once and for all.

It was the move Link had waited for. Instead of leaping backward, he stepped to the side and, before the beast could recover, brought his stick down on its unprotected head in one crushing blow.

The sharp report of the branch breaking was matched only by the crack produced from the beast’s skull. It crumpled on the spot and did not move again.

Throwing aside the remains of his now useless stick, Link fell to his knees and leaned forward, willing natural breath to calm his madly beating heart. He had not noticed that, nor any emotion at all, during the heat of battle. Only now, at its conclusion, did he realize how close to death he had danced.

Link quickly surveyed his surroundings for signs of further enemies, but saw only low tufts of grass ruffled by a passing breeze. His eyes caught a glint of light glaring a few strides away. Getting to his feet, Link discovered the monster’s sword laying half-concealed in the grass. He picked up the weapon, slowly hefting and twirling it. It was indeed small, at least compared to whatever instinct told him he should be holding. He did not understand how or why he should know such things about weapons, nor how he had been able to vanquish three armed foes without a wound to show for it. Clearly, he learned how to fight in whatever passed for his previous life.

But how? Link wondered to himself. And why?

In increasingly frustrating fashion, no answer came to him. Frowning, Link secured the bare blade to the sword belt on his back. That, at least, gave him the satisfaction of something being as it should be. He was properly armed now. Rustling the last baked apple from his haversack, Link made the short walk back to the base of the hill.

Link walked a full circuit around the odd mound, missing nothing. There appeared to be nothing else of interest aside from the curious structure he had first glimpsed within. Satisfied, he climbed into the hallow for a better look. Directly beneath the stalactite sat another pedestal identical to the first he had seen in the Shrine of Resurrection. Like that one, it sported a broken circle of constellations that glowed orange upon Link’s approach. Its center contained a hollowed-out rectangle, no doubt the exact size of the Sheikah Slate. That space also glowed orange, and Link thought back to the latter pedestal in the shrine, which had shone with the same light. When he had presented his slate to it, the pedestal had turned blue and the door had opened.

There was no door here, and Link wondered what would happen if he inserted the Sheikah Slate into this particular pedestal. He consulted the slate one last time, and saw that his yellow arrow was resting on top of the golden dot that marked his destination. This was the right place.

Hoping for the best, Link placed the slate into its intended resting place. There was a click, then the slate revolved so that the smooth side of it lay face-up. The circle holding the slate rotated so that now the constellations surrounding it were connected as originally intended. The face of the slate, meanwhile, once again displayed the glowing eye sigil.

“Sheikah Tower activated. Please watch for falling rocks.”

The voice was the second he had heard in the Shrine of Resurrection: monotonous and lifeless. Link’s expression furrowed in concern. Watch for falling rocks…

The eye sigil on the bulbous structure overhead flared bright blue. Then the rumbling began, as if the very earth were breaking. Link fell to his feet, which made him feel ill when combined with the sensation that the ground on which he now knelt was rising beneath him. With an ear-splitting crack, the hill burst apart. Boulders bounced, rolled and flew in all directions, forcing Link to protect himself as best he could from the wildly flying debris.

Whatever he stood on continued to rise, but slowly enough that Link was finally able to get to his feet. Now that it was not mostly covered by dried mud and rocks, Link could see that the floor of the structure was a perfect circle, coated with rock dust, but unmistakably decorated with the bronze whorls he had seen in the Chamber of Resurrection. Six bronzed pillars supported the top of the structure from which the stalactite hovered directly over the pedestal. Looking out from his increasingly high perch, Link was startled to see similar phenomenons taking place all around him.

They were towers, each of them simultaneously ascending as though Link’s actions had awoken them all at once. Their narrow bodies glowed with an eerie orange light shining through bronze grillwork running up their entire lengths until reaching circular platforms at the top. Bronze steps jutted out intermittently from the tower’s height, like stairs for some awkwardly proportioned climber. The bulbous tops above their platforms also glowed orange, like beacons calling for those who sought them.

With a slight jolt, Link’s tower halted its ascent, as did all the others he could see. The top of his tower, which had previously glowed orange, now flared blue.

“Tower activated. Distilling local information.”

Blue lights appeared on the curious pillar extending down toward the pedestal, seeming to flow down in an impressive imitation of water. They trickled to the pillar’s blunt point, gathering until Link realized they were merging into an actual droplet of blue liquid that was now hanging by a thread.

It fell, splashing onto the smooth surface of the Sheikah Slate.

Marveling at the strange wonder he had just witness, Link cautiously approached the pedestal. The blue eye sigil flared brightly on the slate before his map replaced it. The center region in which his arrow resided glowed bright blue, then faded to reveal in complete detail the plateau on which he had awoken. Even the forest was portrayed by brown, bushy splotches against the lighter brown that represented land. The temple pointed out by the old man was also discernible, marked with rigidly straight lines that indicated a man-made structure. Link noted that his tower stood close to the plateau’s northeastern edge.

“Regional map extracted.”

With that, the pedestal proffered up the Sheikah Slate, which Link took with no small amount of gratitude. Here, at last, was some measure of clarity. He did not yet know who he was nor what was next, but at least he knew immeasurably more about his immediate surroundings.

Link was about to search for a way down from this odd structure when a voice -- the female voice that had wakened him -- murmured in his head once again.

“Remember… Try. Try to remember…”

The voice’s origin was as invisible as ever, but it pulled his gaze to a specific direction this time. Link turned north to face the great castle looming in the middle of the open plains. Then he saw it: a golden light, gleaming like a star from atop the center spire.

As he focused on it, the voice sounded clearer. He quickly approached the edge of the platform, straining to hear more even as the light began glimmering brighter.

“You have been asleep for the past one hundred years…”

Asleep? Not dead then, no matter that he had awoken in a “Shrine of Resurrection.” How could anyone sleep for a century? Link had barely considered the question when it was driven away by another rumbling of earth. This one, however, originated not from the tower, but from the distant fortress.

Even as Link looked, tendrils of black and red spiraled from the base of the castle, swirling up and around walls and spires alike until it must engulf the light that fought to shine through them. The sentinel-like pillars surrounding the castle were no longer dark, but dotted with disturbingly familiar constellations of their own. These, however, glowed dark red instead of blue or orange.

“The beast… When the beast regains its true power, the world will face its end.”

And then Link saw it. It rose like some primeval monster of nightmare from the red vapor enveloping the castle. Its body was formless, but the head resembled some great swine, with fierce tusks and a long, protruding snout. Where its eyes should have been, tiny pinpricks of golden light gleamed greedily despite the midday sun. It took to the sky, swirling around the central spire like some jealous predator guarding its kill. The horror’s jaws parted to give way to a roar the likes of which no living creature had ever uttered. It shook the trees and earth, causing animals to scamper into hiding and birds to take flight in terror. The sound went on and on until it was hard to separate the cacophony from its own echoes.

Link, however, felt no fear. Rage coursed through his veins like the rivers of fire visible on the volcano to the northeast. He wanted to sprint to the castle that very instant, to tear the phantom beast apart with his bare hands if need be. Unbidden to his mind came the image of a wolf ripping the demon animal’s life from its throat, and he felt his teeth bare in a rictus of anticipation.

“You must hurry, Link, before it’s too late.”

And with that, the monster dissolved into the red-and-black mist from which it sprang, which remained eddying and swirling around the base of the castle itself. The golden light from the tower winked out, leaving only a sense of foreboding from the evil substance that still half-engulfed the fortress.

Pausing only to secure the sword on his back, Link bounded down the widely spaced steps of the tower, eager to deal out death.