Link awoke to the sound of birds chirruping, accompanied by the gentle stirring of windblown branches. He was outside. Raising his hand, he felt a cool compress set on his forehead. Though it felt pleasant, Link removed it in order to sit up and take in his surroundings.

A fire burned low nearby, its fuel just sufficient to keep it alive. Link saw the camp was situated within a small forest. His weapons were propped up against the tree nearest him, while another set of supplies lay loosely organized on the other side of the fire.

A cursory look around the camp did not reveal the old man — Rhoam, Link reminded himself. His name is Rhoam — but he did sight the spire of the Temple of Time rising above the hill to the east. The sun was well on its way to its midday zenith, having already risen above the temple.

Seeing the ancient building brought the final moments of Rhoam’s tale crashing back. They replayed themselves slowly, recalling the moment it dawned on Link that the princess must have been Rhoam’s daughter and that he was her appointed knight. The moment he realized he had failed her… and countless others.

Link shut his eyes in an attempt to stave off the same wave of emotions that had overcome him at the temple. Distraction came to his rescue in the form of a snapping twig nearby.

Rhoam had entered the camp, and it was clear to Link he had stepped on the twig on purpose to announce his arrival. He no longer appeared as he had in life. Rhoam looked like an old traveler again, and Link wondered if this was meant as a small mercy to eliminate at least one reminder of his failure.

“How are you feeling, Link?” Rhoam asked gently.

Link simply nodded as the former king made his way to him, then peered closely at his face to make sure his young charge was indeed well. Link could not make himself meet Rhoam’s eyes. The man’s daughter was dead because of him.

“Link,” Rhoam began quietly, “I ask for your forgiveness.”

Incredulous at what he had heard, Link finally lifted his gaze to meet that of the king he had once served. Memory’s eye still did not recognize Rhoam, but that did not assuage the feeling of bottomless debt he felt toward the amber eyes looking at him now.

“What reason have I to forgive you?” Link asked bitterly. “I failed you and your daughter. The only forgiveness in question is that which you should refuse to grant.”

Rhoam stepped back, a look of utter disbelief on his face.

“Is that what torments you so?” he whispered. “You think you failed? Link, you do not know how mistaken you are.”

Despite himself, Link felt the first drops of comfort fill his heart since learning what had happened one hundred years ago. He had no right to them, but they were being forced upon him by the man who should be withholding them with a vengeance.

“How then?” Link asked, hoping the harshness of the question would dispel the solace he did not deserve. “Your daughter’s champion fell, leaving her to face what you called ‘evil incarnate’ alone. I still do not remember it,” he added honestly, “but my heart confirms your tale as truth. I know who I am and what I failed to do, even if I cannot yet recall it for myself.”

Rhoam appeared pensive at this last statement, as though considering how to best respond. Finally, after a considerable silence, he sat upon a log opposite of Link across the fire.

“It seems I have yet another reason to beg your forgiveness,” the fallen king began, warding off what would have been another interruption from Link. “No, you will listen. It seems you have been misled. You believe your fall was the death knell of my daughter’s life and of Hyrule. Despite what you have seen and heard, that moment has not yet sounded, Link. If you thought otherwise, I am truly sorry.”

Hope. Link felt it trying to take root within him. He stamped it down.

“You said she went to face Ganon alone,” Link persisted. “You claim that she did so and won?”

Rhoam shook his head before answering. “Zelda did confront Ganon. She did not win, but neither did she lose. As you have no doubt surmised, the words of guidance you have been hearing since your awakening are from Zelda herself.”

Link stood, ignoring the lancing pain shooting through his still tender head. Hope again took hold, and this time he did not uproot it. Despair had blinded him to the simple logic that the voice he had heard was proof that Zelda still lived.

“How?” Link asked with a voice that betrayed his newfound hope. “How is it she still lives?”

Rhoam smiled at seeing Link’s spirits returning.

“The sacred power mentioned in legend — a power that is the birthright of every princess of Hyrule — awoke within her,” the former king explained. “It was enough to contain Ganon and his Malice within Hyrule Castle, if not enough to seal him away completely. It is there she remains, and must continue to remain, so long as Ganon threatens to break free once again.”

Link recalled the point of light he had seen shining from the castle’s tallest spire, and the swirling evil that threatened to drown it. The meaning of it now dawned on him… as did the reason behind the voice’s plea.

“She can’t seal Ganon away completely without the chosen knight, can she?” Link asked with a questioning look. Rhoam shook his head in response.

“More to the point,” he answered with blatant directness, “she cannot do so without you. As I told you, you were the knight chosen by the Sword That Seals The Darkness. It must be you who aids her in vanquishing Ganon once again.”

Link frowned, not because he doubted Rhoam’s words, but because he seemed so ill-equipped for the task.

“I searched the Shrine of Resurrection,” Link said, exasperated. “There was no sword there, and I doubt that,” he added with a bitter gesture toward the short blade leaning against the tree, “will serve in its place.”

Rhoam waived his concerns aside.

“The Sword That Seals The Darkness was hidden by Zelda herself after you fell. Do not ask me where,” he added with a hand held up to forestall the question already on Link’s lips. “I do not know. No doubt she placed it where she knew you would find it when you are ready to wield it once again.

“In any case,” Rhoam continued before Link could interrupt again, “the Sword is not your only concern. You admit to me that, despite your feelings and reactions toward what I have told you, you do not yet truly remember any of this, not even Zelda or the Sword. Is that true?”

Halted in his rush to inquire about the Sword, Link realized what Rhoam was saying.

“I… I don’t know why,” Link exhaled. “My heart feels the weight of my failure, but it is still another’s tale to my mind.”

Rhoam nodded thoughtfully.

“This is not altogether terrible,” he concluded. “Better that than its opposite. Your heart has already convinced you of the things you value most. It also,” he added with a sudden smile, “remembers the skills you need to stay alive.”

Link thought back to the bokoblins by the tower. No, he inwardly agreed, it was not remembrance that aided me. It had been something more and less, something recalled by powerful instinct rather than mechanical memory.

“The loss of your memory,” Rhoam continued, “is the cost of avoiding the fate that nearly took you a century ago. After you fell, you were placed in the Shrine of Resurrection, which was designed by the Sheikah specifically to heal the most grievous of wounds. Yours were such that it required one hundred years to heal your mind and body from the horrors you faced. Your youth was also preserved so that, upon your return, you would at least be physically able to challenge Ganon once again.

“Your memories,” Rhoam added with a gentle tone of regret, “were lost in the bargain.”

Link could say nothing to this. Desperate though he was to regain his sense of self, he could not begrudge the means by which he stood here today, able to amend the failures of a century past.

“You said in the temple you felt my memories would return in time,” Link remembered suddenly. “Must I simply hope for that to happen while I seek the sword?”

Rhoam shook his head.

“Your memories are indeed important, but neither they nor the sword will simply appear. I believe, however,” Rhoam added, “that you may discover both as you ready yourself to face Ganon once again.”

”How?” Link answered quickly. “I already remember how to fight, and the shrine added powers to the slate that will surely aid me.”

Again, Rhoam halted Link’s headlong rush into action.

“Skilled though you are, you cannot hope to infiltrate Hyrule Castle alone, nor meet Ganon with strength enough to finish the task should you reach him. Still-living Guardians swarm the palace, and they are no doubt watching for you now that the Sheikah towers have risen.”

Link had not thought of this. If Ganon knew of the Sheikah technology, those towers were nothing less than a beacon announcing Link’s return to the waking world.

“What help do I seek, then?” Link asked, discouraged. “You said the Champions lost their lives in the Calamity. Even if had they not, they and anyone else I knew would have lived out their lives by now. And even were they alive,” he added bitterly, “I would not recognize them."

Rhoam did not answer immediately, but instead began packing his supplies. Only after Link rose to his feet did the former king reply while still clearing the campsite.

“There is one who can show you the way, if she still lives,” Rhoam began over the low hiss of the fire he was dousing. “If not, she may have left her people instruction for your return. Her name is Impa, and it was she who told me of the prophecy all those years ago.”

“A Sheikah?” Link asked while gathering his own things. It felt good to finally be up and moving with a clear goal unfolding on the path before him. “So they do still exist? How am I to find them if they, as you said, go out of their way to avoid others?”

Rhoam shouldered his pack and haversack, then motioned for Link to follow as they talked. Link saw they were heading east. Briefly consulting the slate, he realized that if they kept on this track, they would pass just north of the Sheikah tower and reach the edge of the plateau.

“It is true that the Sheikah keep to themselves, but their home is known by those who dwell near it.” Rhoam explained. “They reside in Kakariko Village, which lies three days east of here. Do you see those twin peaks?”

Link looked in the direction Rhoam had pointed. Sure enough, he recognized the pair of mountains that nearly mirrored one another. Their journey had now taken them close enough to the edge of the plateau for Link to see a river cut directly between the base of the twin mountains.

“They live there?” he asked curiously.

“Beyond,” Rhoam corrected him. “You must pass through the Dueling Peaks and then proceed north. There is a path that will guide your journey, as well as a stable just beyond the mountains. There,” he added in explanation, “you will find other travelers, perhaps a horse to buy if you obtain the means to purchase one. Aside from a handful of outer villages that survived the Calamity, the stables are all that remain of Hyrule’s denizens. Our own people are especially scattered, Link, united by only the thinnest bonds of fellowship.”

Link nodded as they drew closer to the man-made ruins that marked the edge of the plateau. The walls were as thick as the lengths of two men, the battlements rearing high over the plateau's natural floor. A broken gap in the wall allowed Link a view downward. He could see now that Rhoam had been all too honest in assessing his need of the paraglider. The drop to the mainland below was steep and deep, unforgiving to even the most experienced of climbers.

“When you arrive at Kakariko Village, ask for Impa,” Rhoam continued. “Most would be refused an audience with the Sheikah elder, but I believe the slate will grant you that privilege. It was she,” he added, “who left instructions that you were to enter the shrine.”

Link looked once again at the unique slate. The runes were aligned alongside the map, which remained dark and unrevealed everywhere save the plateau. He would be traveling blind, at least until he scaled another tower and transferred its knowledge to the slate. Lifting his gaze, he could see one of those towers directly in front of the left-most of the two peaks. I’ll go there first, Link thought.

He turned to face Rhoam, who was unshouldering his supplies, including the paraglider. With a smile, he handed his haversack to Link.

“Your appetite, by the way, is as voracious as it ever was, Link,” Rhoam laughed. “You used to eat enough to impress even the Gorons, which is no mean feat.”

For the first time since waking up, Link smiled. It felt like ice thawing. How long had those muscles gone unused? What would have made him smile before the Calamity?

Rhoam’s own fond expression faded as he saw Link’s clouded visage.

“You will remember who you are Link, of that I have no doubt.” Rhoam assured him with gentle firmness. “Trust your heart to guide you until then. It will not fail you, just as you will not fail Hyrule.”

Link looked up at this. He could not find the courage to protest the utter confidence shining from Rhoam’s eyes. He had assured Link that he had not failed Zelda one hundred years ago, that she still lived within the castle of her youth, albeit no more than a prisoner locked in a struggle she could not win. Not by herself.

She is not dead because of me, Link thought, but she is trapped because I was not there to fight alongside her.

It will not happen again, he vowed to himself. I will finish the task I left undone.

“I know you will.”

Link had not realized he had spoken this last thought aloud. Rhoam had once again transformed to appear as he had in life: every inch the king. Link did not stop himself this time. He drew his sword and knelt, his forehead resting on the unadorned pommel of a slain enemy’s blade. He felt a heavy hand rest upon his head.

“I give you my blessing to go forth and prepare yourself for the battle that lies ahead, Link of Hyrule,” Rhoam intoned. “May the Goddess shine Her light upon who you truly are, and may that light guide you to my daughter and to victory.”

The last words echoed even as Rhoam, the last King of Hyrule, began to fade. Link looked up just in time to see his bearded face gazing at him one last time before he disappeared in a haze of blue-green fire.

Without a word, Link shouldered his added supplies, secured his sword to his back, and unfolded the paraglider. It was as he had first seen it: an expanse of cloth connecting two curved pieces of wood.

Gripping the wooden handles, Link took a deep breath and leaped off the edge of the plateau.