You awake sometime at night, the light of the blood moon shining a sick blood-red color across the ground. You’ve been suspended into air; tendrils of strings the same shade as the moon curled across your body, squeezing and tearing into flesh, leaving behind blood and skin a grotesque color of inflamed red and sickening purple. You lift your head to see a disturbing version of Zelda step in front of you, a deranged doppelgänger. The real Zelda isn’t too far away, but you can’t hear her. She’s probably trying to save you, but she can’t figure out how.. but it’s not like you can save her time. You’re in a trap. All you can do is hope that she remembered how to at least hold a blade, and hope that she brought it. You two had been hunting together, but the Blood Moon had risen.. and you had ended up here. You can’t remember exactly what happened before that.

Your vision is blurred, red staining the corners of your eyes as you meet Puppet Zelda’s.

“Pathetic, really.” Puppet Zelda took a few steps forwards, twisting her wrist again, tightening the strings around your torso and arms. “You’ve been strung in my web.. like a fly waiting to be devoured by an arachnid.”

You realize she’s holding a pristine blade in her hand, her knuckles tightened against the handle as she twirled it.

“I wonder how I should tear you apart first.” She pointed the blade at your throat. “Should I stab you until you die of blood loss? Or should I rip you open and rip your organs out one by one?”

She laughed, her eyes gleaming dreadfully. “I can tell you’re asking why I’d want to kill you. I have orders.. but it also got me thinking. If you want to be a hero, I figured you’d die like one.”