It had been weeks since Prince Zeldan was taken—long enough for rumor to harden into fear and for the roads of Hyrule to grow dangerous with things that preferred the dark. The castle gates had closed behind Linkle without ceremony. No banners. No farewells. Only a quiet understanding that if courage failed here, wisdom would never return.

Her journey carried her through broken causeways, drowned ruins, and forests old enough to remember the Golden Goddesses. Each place bore signs of the same hand: corrupted magic, scorched earth, the slow, creeping influence of Ganon’s servants. Villages whispered of a lone woman in green passing through at dawn, leaving safety in her wake.

Now, deep beneath the ruins of an ancient stronghold, the air was cold and still. Torches lighting the dungeon. At the far end of a cell, slumped but alive, was Prince Zeldan, she opened the cell door and stepped inside.

Linkle stopped a few steps away, The prince finally dared look up at her only to realize it was her. She saw the relief appear on his face.

“I told you,” she said quietly, not one to usually speak, as she held out a hand for him. “I’d always come to save you..”