[hider=Merry Christmas from your old buddy Master Hand, Linkle.] Hyrule was burning. The sky was dark, the sound of the pouring rain drowned out by the vile screams of the Calamity and the mechanical whirring and stomps of his spider like army pouring across the countryside. There were bright flashes of light in the distant, and explosions. Signs that those guardians had found something living and scoured it from the earth. This was undoubtedly their hour of greatest need. Linkle knew what she had to do. So why wasn't it working? Her muddy boots scraped across the marble floor of the temple, her grunts of exertion echoing across the high, empty walls. She pulled. She pulled with all her might, arching her back, face red from the effort, her hands slick with sweat on the hilt. Too much. Her hands slipped off the top, sending her tumbling back and down the short set of steps leading up to its resting place. She sat on the cold floor, staring at it. The Master Sword sat, resplendent in its pedestal. Linkle stood up rubbing her head and ran back up to the sword. She laid on her back, put her feet up against the cross guard and pushed until she felt like she was going to pop a vein before relenting and sitting up again. She looked at herself in the reflection of its blade. She was doing something wrong, she had to be. Maybe there was some test she hadn't passed, or there was some kind of key she hasn't bothered to get. That was stupid, though. There was no way the sword would let Hyrule be destroyed on a technicality like that. She had to draw it. It was something only she could do. She got up, caught her breath, and went to they again. As she did so there was a flash from outside. She spun around, expecting to see one of those crawling machines and hear the beeping of it charging up its beam, but all that greeted her was the welcome crack of thunder. She deflated with relief. It wasn't like her crossbows did any good against those things. It's why she'd come for the sword. She was about to turn back when she saw movement. A boy stumbled in out of the darkness, clad in blue and wearily wearing what looked like a pot lid on his arm. In his other hand her gripped the busted remains of a short swords. He looked up at Linkle, surprise plastered on his face. She mirrored his look, but then dismissed it. No, it wasn't weird. You took shelter anywhere you could in situation like this. She was surprised more people hadn't fled here. He was just one more reason she had to get this sword unstuck. "It'll be okay." She said as the boy started opening his mouth. "I've got it. Just give me a few more minutes." He gave her an odd look, turned around to stare out into the darkness for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders and sat with his back to her on the steps. She nodded, then resumed pulling. "Hey?" The boy asked after a few more minutes. "Yeah?" She answered, breathless. "Why do you want it?" "It's not a matter of wanting it." She said, just a hint of pride creeping into her voice. "But you really want it." The boy went, not looking up. "Well, who wouldn't?" She replied, a little offended. The boy ignored her. She went back to pulling. They counted the time with the rumble of thunder. They came almost regularly now. Flash, rumble, flash, rumble. Three, four, five, ten, twenty. It was impossible to tell how much time had really passed, but it was enough for Linkle's frustration to build to excruciating levels. She pulled back from her task and lashed out with a foot, kicking at the word as hard as she could. It didn't even wiggle, the only result being a clanging echo and a sore toe. The echo hung around the chamber for a long time, unnaturaly bouncing off ever wall and somehow getting louder and louder as it went. It was only when she heard the boy behind her stand up, when she turned to look at the entrance, that she realized that changing wasn't an echo. In the doorway, do large that it couldn't fit its bell shaped body through the door, one of those metal monstrosities stared in at them. The blue of its eye chanced to a hateful red as it locked on to them. Linkle scrambled for her crossbows. She knew the eye was a weaker part, maybe if she used to doorways as cover she'd eventually manage to plink the thing to death. She dived of the small raised platform and started for the doorway, but she realized she was the only one moving. The boy stood, eyes narrowed, staring down the barrel of that thing even as it began to beep. She saw his grip on the pot lid tighten as he raised it up. "Hey!" She called out. "Move or-" "It'll be okay." He said, again not even looking at her. Never breaking his focus. "I've got it." The things beeping was reaching a fever pitch now, and there was a flash that lit up the room as a beam of light shot out of the eye toward him. Linkle couldn't even move fast enough to push him out of the way, so she braced to watch this boy get obliterated. He braced to though, and as the beam was just inches from him her struck out with the pot lid. What happened next struck Linkle as some kind of miracle. Instead of vaporising as it met the beam the pot lid looked like it was pushing the beam back, like it was just water. Not just deflecting it, reflecting it. The beam bounced right off the lid and lanced right through the guardians eye. The guardian sparked, stumbled back, and exploded into a shower of bolts and gears as she looked on in awe. "Hey." He said, arresting her attention back toward him. "Would you mind if I gave it shot?" She looked between him and the sword, then slowly nodded her head. He hooded back to her in gratitude, dropping his broken sword to the ground and approaching the Master Sword. He placed both his hands solemnly on the handle, took a deep breath, and began to pull up. At first Linkle was sure that nothing was happening, but as the boy strained a light began to pool at the bottom of the blade. Slowly but surely, inch by laborious inch, the blade began to withdraw from the stone until finally it was wrenched free. The boy, panting like he'd just run a marathon, nonetheless raised the sword over his head despite how heavy it seemed to weigh on him. Satisfied, he solemnly shethed the thing and walked down the steps, past Linkle, and toward the stormy night. "Wait a minute." She called after him. He stopped, looking over his shoulder at her. "Why do you want it?" He shook his head. "It's not a matter of wanting it." He said, a hint of sadness creeping into his voice. "Well...," Linkle stumbled, struggling for words. "When is it going to be my turn?" The boy thought about it for a moment. "Hopefully? Never," was what he finally settled on. He gave one last nod to Linkle and then dashed out the door of the temple, leaving her alone with only one thought playing in her head on what seemed like an endless loop. The thing only she could do was get out the way. [/hider]