Deep within the subterranean vaults of the Gerudo Desert, torchlight flickers over tall shadow-walls. Kotake and Koume emerge from opposite archways, their gold-masks gleaming, their robes flowing. They stride into the central chamber, where a newcomer, weak and trembling, stands surrounded by swirling aura of malice.

Koume steps forward, her voice crackling like distant flames: She places one hand on her hip, the other raising a flame to warm the air around them.

Koume glances at the newcomer. She flicks a lock of braided hair. “Well… so you’ve wandered into our domain, little one. The heat of ambition brought you here?” She laughs, low and soft. “We trust you haven’t come unprepared. For our brand of power burns… and it freezes in the same breath.” The gold of the red masked Gerudo stood tall.

Kotake moves silently behind the newcomer, fingertips trailing along an icy rune carved in the floor. Kotake tilts her head, voice cold yet calm. “You stand between fire and frost now. Choose your path… or be crushed by both.” She fixes the newcomer with a glance through her mask. “Do you serve the flame… or fear the chill?”

Koume paces around, echoing, the torch-lights flicker.

“One day you may wear our masks, and walk among the flames and the ice as one of us.” She stops, leans close. “Prove yourself.”

Kotake raises a strange Gerudo flute of blue light. “Fail… and you’ll learn the true meaning of the Sorceress of Ice.” She plays a strange tune that summons shades, which lunge and attack the newcomer.

Koume’s voice breaks through the gloom energy from the flute, as she wields a red Gerudo blade.* “Your trial begins… the ancient magic of the Gerudo awaits.”

And the chamber plunges into darkness.