913 Words (ok this was the long one and now that it's edited it isn't that long 😂)

I've sat in this pool of blood for Hylia knows how long, weeping quietly. His face is pale now, losing the lifelike glow it used to have. I can barely move. Barely breathe.

Mipha always said I'd inherit the same healing power she had, since destiny would call on me to need it. I needed it today, more desperately than I'd ever need it again. I haven't budged from my position since.

I stare at my hands, crimson with blood that's already dry. The pool around me has stopped its slow seep outwards since Link physically can't lose any more blood. The somber thought plagues me.

I concentrate on my hands.

Sidon.

It's her voice.

Sidon, my little brother.

What does she want? She's dead, just like him.

"It's time for you to use the gift. I don't need it anymore, neither does he. Please, use it. It's not his time to come up here yet. Not like this."

My vision blacks out and in front of me is my sister, bearing a sad face. She has a blue handkerchief wrapped around her wrist—at least, it used to be blue. Now it's crimson. She takes it off and wraps it around my arm, looking quite serene.

Is this it? Am I crazy? Did Link's death push me over the edge?

She shakes her head. An unspoken reply.

"You've been looking for an angel to pass by. But no, Sidon — you have to be the angel."

She disappears and I'm left staring at my hands again. Now, all the blood is gone and they're clean, devoid of any scrape or cut.

I turn to him. He looks peaceful, still kind of like he's sleeping and might wake up someday. Hopefully that's true.

I take scissors and with shaky hands cut the fabric of his shirt off. Not three, but six stab wounds are distinguishable amongst the bloodied flesh. I shudder. Whoever did this was angry, an anger that must've penetrated deep into their being.

I inhale. My hands are shaking so violently. Mipha's voice calls in the back of my head that this is what she'd been working on her whole life, perfecting the craft so she might one day bring someone back from death. My hands glow a yellowish white, not bluish. I push any doubt to the recess of my mind and place my hands on Link's chest, shutting my eyes tight so I don't have to see.

I don't need to see, because I hear him take a breath. My eyes open quickly and he looks no different — pale, unconscious, frail. There's only one difference.

Link is breathing. Thank the gods.

Three days in practically a coma and I've given up the hope that he'll wake up soon. His breathing fades from visible to so shallow I can't even see his chest rise and have to keep my hand in front of his mouth, feeling almost no air brush my palm.

At least he's alive, albeit barely. Dark circles have formed under his eyes.

Three loud knocks, crisp and clear in the silence. I don't feel like letting anyone in right now, and if news of Link's condition leaks, things could only worsen.

"W-who is it?" I say.

"Princess Zelda. Is Link there?"

I exhale. Only Zelda, and I trust her. "...he's here, but, um," I pause. "Just come in." I open to door for her and she briskly walks in, shutting it.

"He's gone and hurt himself, hasn't he—''Her jaw dropped at the sight of him, lying unmoving in my bed. His face was serene but that said nothing about his condition. I managed to barely close his wounds and definitely not heal them fully, not even coming close. If he made any jerky movements, he could reopen them.

Zelda sat at the bedside in an armchair, picking up his hand and staring at the palm. "Do tell me what happened."

"Well," I sit across from her, on the other side of the bed. I can see him gripping the bedsheet, knuckles white. Probably reliving the event. "He was stabbed six times. Found him bleeding out on the bathroom floor. He died that day. I had to revive him." I'm surprised my voice didn't crack at the grim memory.

Her face is somber. "Using Mipha's magic?"

"Yes. But he's just barely alive." I discreetly take his hand in mine, holding it. He relaxes a little. Zelda sighs, looking down.

"I had a vision, the one I've come to recognize as Link being stupid. I rushed over the second I could." Her lips turned up slightly in the ghost of a smile. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be. He's alive, isn't he—'' I'm cut off by Zelda briskly sitting up.

"He isn't breathing. I can't see him breathing."

"Zelda, calm down." I place my hand in front of his barely parted lips, feeling the familiar weak breath. "He's okay."

She calms herself, slumping into the chair momentarily. "Well, I know he's in good hands. Thank you for taking care of him. I know you have lots to do." She smiled weakly and got up, leaving the room. As she closed the door, she said quietly, "please don't let this wound you, Link,"

That sentence was definitely perplexing. I sit down and stare at Link, trying to decode it.