Breath of the Wild: Awakening

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  • Publiceret: 19 apr. 2019
  • Opdateret: 24 apr. 2019
  • Status: Igang
Set one hundred years after the kingdom of Hyrule’s downfall to Calamity Ganon, Awakening reveals a land still reeling and disunited in the Calamity’s aftermath – and threatened anew by the great machines initially meant to protect them. Link, the fallen hero from a century ago, awakens from a healing sleep to find his memory gone and his forgotten world in chaos. With only the word of a dead king’s spirit and the aged leader of the mysterious Sheikah to guide him, Hyrule’s former Champion sets out to redeem the kingdom and himself. As he does, Link grapples with the true cost of his failure and the harrowing guilt that assails him. Yet with the princess he was commissioned to protect somehow still alive and only just holding Ganon’s full wrath at bay, Link must allow himself to let go of the past and embrace a present that needs him now more than ever before.

This is the first of a six-book series.


2. Awakening


Light. Bright, golden light pierced the blackness, shining more and more brilliantly at its center, like the birth of a star in the midst of a midnight sky. The light was both harsh and welcoming. It beckoned, unwilling to be ignored.


A voice, muffled at first, joined that inescapable glow. It struggled to be understood, but its tone was as the light itself: warm and inviting. It gathered strength with the light until it finally formed a discernible word.




That word meant something. What did it mean? Scarcely did the question present itself when the voice, so reassuringly familiar, was already saying something else.


“Open your eyes.”


But his eyes were open. How else could he see the light that seemed to be the only object in sight?


Suddenly, the light expanded. It did not overwhelm, but rather embraced.


“Open your eyes.”


He did, and suddenly the golden light dissipated, replaced by a harsher blue glow that came into focus the longer he looked at it.


“Open your eyes.”


The blue light faded, and he realized it was not one light but several, embedded within some kind of fixture attached to the ceiling of... where was he?


Other senses began taking hold. He felt wetness recede from his face, his chest, his toes, and realized he was lying face up. Water, glowing bright blue from light welling up beneath it, was receding from the surface on which he lay. His curiosity quickened, overtaking the relaxed feeling one has immediately after a fulfilling night’s sleep.


“Wake up, Link.”


Link. That must be his name. The voice had addressed him as such, and twice at that. Even as he savored the forgotten flavor of his own name, Link felt the last of the water drain from his… bed? He supposed he should call it that. He could feel now that the surface on which he lay was unyielding, but somehow comfortable at the same time.


Deciding he had learned all he could from his current position, Link reluctantly forced himself to sit up. Looking around, he saw that he was situated in the middle of a small, round chamber with walls covered in bronze-colored spirals of some unknown metal. The same material composed his bed, which still emanated that eerie blue light. Looking down, he saw he was clad only in close-fitting braies, yet he was neither hot nor cold.


Link rolled to his hands and knees in order to climb over the low wall of the bed. Doing so felt new and refreshing. He again thought of the feeling after sleeping, and wondered how long he had rested in this strange place. And why.


There was no point in lingering any longer. Link got to his feet, feeling the strange smoothness of the oddly decorated floor. Looking back, he could see now that the ceiling fixture was much bigger than he had seen from his point of view in the bed. It extended downward from a thick, root-like tangle of that same bronze material, the entire arrangement slowly pulsing with that unique blue light. Turning in a slow circle, he could see carved facsimiles of constellations on the curved chamber walls.


Link’s visual exploration halted at the sight of a small pedestal at the far side of the room. It was short and squat, its circular surface adorned with a blue-glowing constellation that nearly formed a complete circle, save for a few small gaps in the arrangement. Again, Link felt that overwhelming rush of familiarity, but he couldn’t remember for the life of him where he would have seen such a singular-looking object before.


He couldn’t remember…


The lack of memory, utter and complete, made Link stagger and forced him to grab the wall of the bed. A voice had told him his name. Beyond that, he had no clue who he was, no memory of his life before the golden light had woken him. Who was he? Why was he here? What had his life been before his…rest?


The lack of even a hint of an answer astounded him. No vague images or impressions came to his aid. He reached in vain to the recesses of his mind, willing memories of his childhood, of family, of a friend, to come to him. None did. There was only a void, similar to the one the golden light had interrupted.


The light…


He had not imagined it. It had restored his name to him. Perhaps it knew more.


Link -- yes, that had to be my name -- returned his attention to the pedestal, the glow of which seemed much stronger than the other sources of light in the chamber. Willing that to be some kind of sign, he approached it. As he did, the constellation on its surface suddenly intensified, its glow now strong enough to suffuse Link’s mostly naked body with a soft blue light. The pedestal was sloped toward him, the front reaching no higher than his waist.


Without warning, the center of the pedestal’s surface rose, temporarily breaking part from the glowing constellation. Embedded within the center of this smaller circle was a rectangular object. Its surface bore an intricate design made of the same bronzed material and lights as the chamber walls, though on a much smaller scale. The unique patterns formed the unmistakable image of an eye, topped by three triangular lashes, while a single teardrop hung from the bottom lid.


Even as Link processed this, a whirring sound emanated from the pedestal, which then lifted one end of the rectangle so that it stood nearly upright. Link could now see that the object was thin and able to be held easily in his hands. One end formed a handle so that fingers could easily wrap around and carry the object.


“That is a Sheikah Slate. Take it. It will help guide you after your long slumber.”


It was the same voice that had woken him, and this time Link felt an ache of longing accompany the feeling of familiarity he had experienced upon first hearing it. He knew that the voice belonged to a woman, but try as he might, he could not put a face or name to it. It could be his mother, a sister, or a complete stranger for all he knew. No. Not a stranger. He knew this voice, but from where or when, he had no clue.


Shaking his head, Link focused instead on what the voice had told him. “Long slumber…” Apparently, he had been asleep, and for a while at that. Looking at the “slate” still proffered up by the pedestal, he briefly wondered if he should trust the voice. That thought, however, vanished as quickly as fog in sunlight. He knew he could trust her, knew that to be true perhaps more than anything else at this moment.


Looking once again at the unique “slate,” Link made up his mind. He reached for the protruding handle and pulled. It came away from the pedestal with a small click, and he brought it closer to his face to better examine the thing. The side with the inlaid, glowing eye did not appear to hold anything of further interest. Turning it over, Link saw that the other side was dark and smooth, like glass without the promise of reflection. Without thought, he ran a finger over the blank surface.


Immediately, the dark face of the slate lit up with the same blue light Link had seen elsewhere in the chamber. At its center glowed the same eye design seen on the opposite side. There was no texture to this symbol, however. It was like a painting, except there was no dye to be seen or smudged. It simply appeared on the smooth face of the object, was one with it. Suddenly, it was gone, returning the slate’s surface once again to a dull and lifeless black.


No sooner had Link wondered what the point of this exercise had been than a part of the wall began to shudder. He realized it as a door, and marveled at how he had not noticed it upon his initial examination of this unusual bedchamber. It was actually divided into seven equal and vertical bars, which were just then raising themselves into the frame rather than swinging open as a normal door would.


Deciding there was no point in remaining any longer, Link made for the only exit from this strange place. The doorway opened into a narrow hallway adorned with more of the same swirling bronze patterns and blue lights, though the latter emanated from more familiar fixtures: crowned wall sconces protruding from the sides of the hall. It was musty in here, a sharp contrast compared to the disturbing cleanliness of the sleeping chamber. He saw at once the source of the difference: several wooden boxes and a pair of stone chests. Beyond them, at the end of the hallway, Link saw another doorway, though this one was, for now, still closed.


Failing to see anyone else to whom the chests would belong, Link thought it was safe enough to open them. No locks prevented him from doing so, just a latch that was easy enough to disengage. He did so and saw, to his relief, clothing resting inside. True, he had no destination in mind as yet, but he felt vastly more comfortable going anywhere with proper attire than without.


This first chest contained a pair of trousers, socks, brown leather boots, and a belt. The second chest held a dark green tunic, leather greaves and gloves, one leather pauldron, and a sword belt designed to be slung over his back. At the very bottom of the chest lay a perfectly folded cloak of faded black. Its cape bore an insignia he did not recognize: a pair of golden wings, in the center of which rested a pyramid of three golden triangles.


Link wondered at himself as he dressed. It was clear these clothes had been designed for someone comfortable with the possibility of combat and yet, though he could remember nothing of his previous life, donning them felt as natural as breathing. All of it fit perfectly, and Link could not deny a sense of satisfaction as he finished tying off the pauldron and sword belt. Looking down at himself, he noticed a pair of small hooks on the left side of his waist belt. Already half-knowing what would happen, he picked up the Sheikah Slate he had set down in order to dress and slid the handle over the hooks. Like his clothing, it fit perfectly.


Unconsciously, Link’s right hand reached behind his head, but his fingers found nothing. With a start, he realized he had been grasping for a sword hilt. Once he processed this all-too-natural action, he realized that not finding a weapon ready and waiting on his back was extremely disconcerting. Though clothed, he felt strangely naked while unarmed. Another quick glance in the chests and around the deserted hallway revealed no consolation for this new and unsettling feeling.


Shrugging into his cloak, Link resigned himself to being weaponless for the moment. He was already planning to sharpen a makeshift spear out of a tree branch. Why, though? he wondered. What kind of life had made weaponry feel like a need and the lack thereof an unnecessary risk?


Memories were no closer to surfacing, however, and Link tried to dismiss his uneasiness for the time being. Determining why would have to wait. For now, he could at least find out where he was.


At the end of the hallway sat another squat pedestal near the right wall. It was identical to the first save for two differences: this one’s broken circle constellation glowed orange -- save that its center circle shone blue in place of where his Sheikah Slate had been in the first.


“Hold the Sheikah Slate up to the pedestal. That will show you the way.”


The voice sounded from nowhere, like a sudden breeze through a quiet wood. It was proper and educated, but there was a warmth behind it that conveyed more than just instruction. Removing the slate from its belt hooks, Link did as he was told and held it against the myriad of glowing lines and circles.


The curious sigil flashed, and the previously orange constellation around it suddenly shone blue as well. A different voice, dull and lifeless compared to the first, sounded directly from the pedestal.


“Authenticating… Sheikah Slate confirmed.”


The eye symbol on the wall just beyond the pedestal glowed blue. It began protruding outward, and like the previous door revealed itself to be made of several pieces rather than one whole. Hidden locks clicked open as pieces of the door fled into wall, revealing natural sunlight streaming directly into the hallway. Link shielded his eyes until they became accustomed to a brightness seemingly long forgotten.


The first voice, the one known and unknown, sounded in his mind once more.


Link… You are the light -- our light -- that must shine upon Hyrule once again. Now go…”


Taking a deep breath, Link stepped into the light.

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