Wind brushes past as the young Sheikah drops from a rooftop, landing silently before the newcomer. Her long silver hair settles behind her, red ribbon swaying. She rises with the calm sharpness of a trained blade, Impa takes steady steps as her eyes narrowed.

“Halt. You stand on ground watched by the Sheikah.” Her hand rests on the hilt of her kodachi, not drawn—yet. “Identify yourself. I will not allow another unknown variable near the princess.”

Her eyes narrow, studying every shift of breath, every twitch of posture. “If your intentions are true, then speak plainly. I have neither time nor patience for riddles—our enemies are already many.”

Impa takes a single step closer, voice quiet but unwavering. “But if you come to aid us… then I, Impa of the Sheikah, will judge your resolve myself.”