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Warriors is using Legend’s Mirror Shield as a handheld vanity. This is not a metaphor. One gloved hand is braced against a fallen log. The other is carefully fluffing the front of his hair while he angles the shield just so, trying to catch the light through the forest canopy. Sunbeams filter down in broken patches, dappling his cheeks and, more critically, casting shadows across his jaw.
“This lighting is criminal.” Warriors mutters. “I’m going to end up with one heroic side and one… vaguely rustic side.” He shudders. “Like Twilight.”
Twilight, from by the fire, shoots a glare towards Warriors. Legend, seated a few feet away and sharpening his sword with focused irritation, does not look up. “That is my shield.”
“I’m borrowing it.”
“You’re stealing it.”
“I’m borrowing it in spirit.” Warriors corrects. He tilts the shield another fraction. “Honestly, I can already see a difference. This side is going to tan faster. Do you see that? The sun is clearly favouring my left.”
Legend finally looks over. He stops. Stares. They lock eyes through the reflection. “…We are in the middle of a forest.” Legend says.
“Yes,” Warriors replies serenely, smoothing down a rebellious curl, “and the forest is conspiring against my complexion.”
Legend goes back to his blade with a sharp, offended scrape of metal on stone. “Give it back.”
“Just a moment.” Warriors leans closer to the mirror-surface, squinting. “There’s something in my hair. Is that a leaf? Oh no. It’s worse. It’s pine.”
Legend exhales like a man trying very hard not to commit a small, justifiable crime. “You do realise,” he says flatly, “that if something attacks us right now, you will die while admiring yourself.”
Warriors smiles at his reflection, flawless and serene. “At least I’ll die beautiful.”
Legend stands. It’s not dramatic. He doesn’t announce it or flare with righteous fury. He simply gets to his feet with the quiet, deeply ominous calm of someone who has decided he is done asking nicely. Warriors notices immediately. “Oh, come on!” he says, hugging the Mirror Shield a little closer to his chest. “I’m almost done. Just let me fix this one piece—”
Legend lunges. Warriors yelps and twists away, nearly tripping over the log as Legend’s fingers brush the rim of the shield.
“HEY, personal space!”
“Give it back!”
They collide in a tangle of elbows and offended dignity. The shield flashes wildly between them, catching sun and reflecting a dizzying blur of leaves, boots, and very surprised faces as Warriors stumbles backward.
“Unhand me, you feral gremlin!”
“You’re using my sacred artefact as a compact!”
“It has a mirror on it! That’s literally its secondary function!”
Legend shoves. Warriors counters. Someone’s elbow goes into someone’s ribs. Someone else makes a noise that sounds a lot like “ow” but with more betrayal in it. The shield spins. Warriors grabs the top. Legend grabs the bottom. They freeze, locked in a ridiculous stalemate, faces inches apart.
“You’re pulling it wrong.” Warriors says through clenched teeth.
“You’re holding it wrong.”
“It was fine when I had it.”
“It was being abused!”
Warriors jerks it to the left. Legend jerks it to the right. The shield doesn’t budge. Their feet slide on pine needles. Warriors flails an arm for balance and accidentally smacks Legend in the shoulder. Legend retaliates by stepping on Warriors’s boot.
“Oh, that was uncalled for!”
“So is using my gear to admire your face!”
Warriors huffs. “You’re just jealous I actually scrub up well.”
Legend glares. “Let. Go.”
“No.”
They both pull again. The Mirror Shield gives a protesting clang. Across the camp, Sky winces. Twilight covers his mouth like he’s trying not to laugh. Wild is absolutely not trying.
“Should we stop them?” Sky whispers.
Time doesn’t look up from his map. “They’ll sort it out.”
They do not, in fact, sort it out. Legend hooks an arm around the shield and yanks. Warriors stumbles forward, shoulder-checking Legend in the process. They spin, boots skidding, and collapse in a heap against the log Warriors had been using as a vanity. The shield goes flying. Both of them reach. Both of them miss. The Mirror Shield lands face-up in the dirt with a tragic, reflective thunk. Warriors and Legend stare at it. Slowly, Warriors lifts his head. His hair is now doing something it was absolutely not doing before. Legend squints at the reflection.
“…You got dirt on it.”
Warriors gasps. “You got dirt on me.”
Legend points. “That’s pine.”
Warriors looks like he might actually scream.
Legend pushes himself up on one elbow, eyes flicking from the dirt-smudged Mirror Shield to Warriors’s now-tragically-disheveled hair. Oh. Oh, he is absolutely going to enjoy this.
“Well,” Legend says mildly, “look at that. Nature finally won.”
Warriors stares at the shield in horror. “There is soil on my face.”
“Yes.” Legend agrees. “You look very… earthy. Rustic, even.”
Warriors rounds on him, voice lethal. “You did this.”
Legend smirks. “Pretty sure gravity did most of the work. You just threw yourself at it dramatically.”
Warriors reaches for the shield again. Legend kicks it just out of reach.
“Hey!”
“Careful.” Legend says, mock-concerned. “Wouldn’t want you to smudge the rest of your heroic cheekbones. Those are your best feature, right? After the hair. And the ego.”
Warriors lunges. Legend barely has time to laugh before Warriors tackles him, both of them tumbling back into the dirt with a tangle of limbs and offended noises.
“Give— that— back!”
“You’re not— entitled— to my gear!”
They roll once. Twice. Legend gets a knee in Warriors’s side, Warriors retaliates by elbowing Legend square in the ribs.
“Ow!”
“Stop insulting me!”
“Stop being insultable!”
Legend shoves him off just long enough to sit up. “You know,” he adds cheerfully, “if you spent half as much time training as you do preening, you might actually be dangerous.”
Warriors, flat on his back and covered in leaves, glares up at him. “I am extremely dangerous.”
Legend snorts. “To yourself.”
Warriors grabs a fistful of Legend’s tunic and yanks him back down into the dirt. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”
Legend grins, wild and sharp. “Oh, absolutely.”
They wrestle again, boots kicking up dust, elbows knocking into shoulders, both of them grumbling and swearing as they fight for leverage and, somewhere nearby, the Mirror Shield glints innocently in the sunlight.
From the edge of camp, Wild’s delighted laughter rings out. “Get him, Legend!”
Time exhales. It’s long, slow, and so profoundly tired that it might qualify as a spiritual event. He inclines his head slightly toward Twilight. Twilight, who has been watching the scuffle with the wary expression of a man deciding whether this problem is going to become his problem, shifts his weight. “Do we… have to?”
“Yes.” Time says.
Twilight grimaces. “I was hopin’ you’d say no.”
They step in together. Twilight grabs Legend by the back of his tunic with one large, steady hand and lifts him clean off the ground. Legend’s boots leave the dirt, still kicking furiously. “HEY! Put me down!”
Time hooks two fingers into the back of Warriors’s scarf and hauls him backward with effortless precision. Warriors sputters as the fabric tightens just enough to be extremely inconvenient. “Unhand me, you ancient menace!”
Legend claws at the air toward Warriors. “You started it, you vain peacock!”
“At least I don’t look like I lost a fight with a compost heap!”
Twilight holds Legend at arm’s length like an annoyed cat. “Easy, now.”
Legend twists around in his grip. “Let me go! I’m not finished!”
“Yes, you are.” Twilight says calmly.
Legend tries to swing at Twilight instead.
“Hey!”
Time tightens his hold on Warriors’s scarf as Warriors lunges forward. Warriors promptly chokes himself. “W— worth— it!”
“No,” Time says flatly, “it really isn’t.”
Legend points furiously. “Did you hear what he called me?!”
Warriors wheezes, recovering from asphyxiation. “You— look— like— a— walking— regret!”
Legend practically growls. “You are a walking regret!”
Twilight shifts Legend slightly higher so his feet dangle uselessly. “Alright, that’s enough.”
Legend continues trying to bite the air in Warriors’s direction. “You’re lucky he’s holding me back!”
Time raises an eyebrow. “Do I need to bring in Sky as a mediator?”
Warriors goes very still. Legend freezes mid-snarl.
“…Don’t.” Warriors and Legend say at the same time.
Time sighs again. “Really. Are you two children? Behave.”
Legend scowls, still suspended. “He used my shield as a mirror.”
Warriors straightens as much as his scarf allows. “It’s very reflective.”
“That is not its purpose!”
Twilight mutters, “Could’ve fooled me.”
Time tightens his grip a fraction. “Apologise.”
Neither of them does. Time’s stare sharpens. Legend grits his teeth. Warriors glares.
“…Fine.” Warriors says stiffly. “I’m sorry your shield is so attractive when I look in it.”
Legend splutters. “That’s not… I’m sorry that I’m going to claw off your face!”
Time releases a fraction of pressure on Warriors’s scarf, just enough for him to breathe like a functional person again.
“Right.” he says. “I’m done.”
Warriors blinks. “Done with what?”
“With you two.” Time looks over his shoulder toward Sky, who has been hovering nearby with the polite, concerned expression of someone who has been quietly trying to solve ‘how to mediate idiots’ in his head. “Sky?”
Sky perks up. “Yes?”
Time jerks his head toward the still-suspended Legend and the scarf-strangled Warriors. “They’re yours now.”
Sky’s eyes widen. “Oh, I mean um I can help! Can I use… The Thing.”
Time continues calmly, “If they don’t behave, you may put them in the Get-Along Shirt.”
Legend goes pale. Warriors goes very, very still.
“The… what?” Warriors asks weakly.
Sky fidgets. “It’s… well… it’s a long tunic. You both wear it. Together. And it makes you stand really close. And you can only leave if you talk about your feelings.”
Legend stares at him. “You’re bluffing.”
Sky smiles gently. “I’m really not.”
The workings of fate itself could not have sobered them faster.
“Okay.” Warriors says quickly. “No need for drastic measures.”
Legend nods sharply. “We’re fine.”
Time loosens his grip slightly. Twilight lowers Legend just enough that his boots brush the ground.
They turn toward each other.
Warriors clears his throat. “I’m… sorry I used your shield as a mirror.”
Legend hesitates, then mutters, “I’m… sorry I tackled you into the dirt.”
“…You also called me a compost heap.”
“And you called me feral.”
“That was accurate.”
Legend snorts despite himself. Then, more quietly, “Your hair did look stupid good in it.”
Warriors blinks. “It did?”
“…Yeah.”
Warriors straightens a little. “Well. Thank you.”
They exchange an awkward, reluctant nod.
Time watches them for a long moment, unimpressed. “Better. Though try to at least act sincere next time.”
Warriors relaxes in visible relief. Twilight lets go of Legend’s tunic.
Somewhere behind them, Wild whispers, “Aw. They’re bonding.”
By the time they’re out of camp and moving through the trees, the apology has worn off. It lasts exactly six minutes. Warriors walks a little too close to Legend on purpose. Legend walks a little faster on purpose. Every so often, one of them bumps into the other with a shoulder that is absolutely not accidental.
“Watch it.” Legend mutters.
“I am watching it,” Warriors replies. “you’re just very small. Hard to see.”
Legend elbows him. Warriors elbows back. Sky winces softly, as if this is physically painful to observe. Time pretends not to see it, jaw set, hands clasped behind his back. Twilight trails ahead, wisely minding his own business. Legend drifts just close enough to shoulder-check Warriors as they pass between two narrow trees. Warriors, affronted, reacts on instinct. He shoves. Not hard. Just… with the amount of force one might use on a normal-sized swordsman. Legend is not a normal-sized swordsman. Legend goes airborne. There is a brief, stunned moment where everyone watches him arc through the air, arms flapping like an offended bird, before he disappears into a dense bush with a loud, leafy crash. Silence. Warriors stares at the shrub.
“Oh.”
Legend’s voice emerges, muffled and furious. “I will end you.”
Warriors rushes forward. “I’m sorry— I didn’t— I forgot how—”
He sees Legend sitting up in the bush, hair full of twigs, face smeared with dirt, expression murderous. Warriors snorts. Then he laughs.
“Oh no.” he wheezes. “Oh, I am— I am so sorry— but you just—”
Legend throws a leaf at him. “Stop laughing!”
“I can’t.” Warriors gasps. “You flew. You actually flew.”
Time drags both hands down his face.
Sky steps forward, hands raised. “Okay, everyone, let’s just take a breath—”
“No!” Time snaps.
Sky freezes. Time turns slowly, eyes sharp. “I am done mediating. I am done separating. And I am done watching two grown men behave like cursed Cuccos.”
Legend crawls out of the bush, still fuming. Warriors straightens, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes.
“You two.” Time says coldly. “Pair up. Scout the eastern ridge. Alone.”
Legend sputters. “With him?!”
Warriors protests, “That’s cruel and unusual punishment.”
“You will learn to get along,” Time says, “or you will not come back.”
Sky opens his mouth.
Time doesn’t even look at him. “Don’t.”
Twilight mutters, “Good luck.” in a tone that suggests he means the opposite.
Warriors and Legend glare at each other. This is going to go terribly.
The eastern ridge is quiet in the way that suggests it absolutely should not be. Tall grass whispers around their boots. The trees thin just enough to give a clear view of the slope below. Somewhere, a bird calls. Everything feels suspiciously like the calm before a very inconvenient storm. Warriors and Legend walk about three feet apart. It is the longest three feet in existence.
“You don’t have to stomp.” Legend mutters.
“I’m not stomping.”
“You are absolutely stomping.”
“I’m walking with purpose.”
“You’re prancing like a dramatic horse.”
Warriors ignores him, scanning the terrain instead. That’s what he tells himself he’s doing. Definitely not trying to avoid throttling him. They crest a small rise, and freeze.
Set into the stone of the hillside is a structure that should not be there. Smooth walls. Carved lines. A low, arching entrance that disappears into shadow. Ancient in the way that feels intentional, not just old. Warriors’s breath catches. “Oh.” he says. “That’s… not on the map.”
Legend squints at it. “Huh.”
For once, he doesn’t immediately resort to an insult.
Warriors steps back. “We should report this.”
Legend looks at him. “Already?”
“Yes. That’s what scouting is.”
Legend scoffs. “You’re such a goody two-shoes.”
Warriors turns, already walking away. “I am a responsible captain.”
“More like a scared one.”
Warriors stops. Slowly, he looks back. “I am not scared.”
Legend smirks. “You sure about that? Because it sure sounds like you’re afraid to go in there with just little old me.”
Warriors folds his arms. “It’s unwise to enter unknown structures without backup.”
“Uh-huh.” Legend says sweetly. “So… scared.”
Warriors’s jaw tightens. “I am not scared.” he says through his teeth. “I am cautious.”
“Same thing.”
“It is not.”
Legend’s grin widens. “So prove it.”
Warriors glares at the dark temple entrance. Then at Legend. Then back at the temple.
“…Fine.” he snaps. “We’ll check it out.”
Legend beams. “Oh good.” he says. “Try not to scream.”
The inside of the temple is exactly what Warriors expects. Dark. Damp. Smelling faintly of ancient stone and very old regrets. The light from outside fades quickly behind them, swallowed by thick walls that seem to press inward the deeper they go. Moss carpets the floor. Water drips somewhere in the distance with slow, mocking patience. Warriors draws his sword. Legend does too, but he looks far more at home, shoulders loose, eyes sharp.
“Wow.” Legend mutters. “Cozy. You think anything horrible lives here, or is it just for ambiance?”
“Quiet.” Warriors hisses. “Listen.”
Something skitters. Warriors’s spine goes rigid. Legend sees it. Of course he sees it. He waits exactly three steps. Then…
“RAH!”
Warriors shrieks. Not a dignified shout. Not a heroic cry. A full, high-pitched, betrayed-by-the-universe scream that echoes off the stone walls and probably wakes something ancient. Legend doubles over laughing.
“Oh my! You sounded like a startled cucco!”
Warriors clutches his sword to his chest, mortified. “You— you—!”
“I didn’t even touch you!”
“I hate you.”
Legend wipes tears from his eyes. “That was incredible. Do it again.”
“Absolutely not.”
Legend grins. “Oh, I’m telling everyone.”
Warriors glares at him, cheeks burning. “If you say one word to the others…”
“I’m already composing the ballad.”
Somewhere in the temple, something makes a deeply disturbing noise. They both freeze.
Legend slowly lifts his sword. “Okay, that one wasn’t me.”
Warriors swallows. “Oh good. That makes it so much better.”
They inch forward, blades raised, nerves wound tight. The low disturbing hissing noise comes again. Low. Rough. Definitely not a bird sound, which is unsettling, because Warriors can now see feathers. They round a cracked pillar, and there it is. A parrot. A very large parrot, perched on a stone pedestal, feathers fluffed, eyes bright and intelligent. It opens its beak. Hissssss.
Warriors and Legend stare.
“…What,” Legend says faintly, “is wrong with that bird.”
The parrot cocks its head.
“Hisssssssss.”
Legend squints. “Do you think it’s a shapeshifter?”
Warriors rolls his eyes so hard it might count as exercise. “You’re an idiot. It’s not a shapeshifter.”
“Oh yeah?” Legend snaps. “Then what is it?”
“It mimics things.” Warriors says. “That’s what parrots do.”
Legend gestures wildly at the bird. “It just hissed like a monster. What in the name of Hylia do you think it was mimicking, then?”
Warriors opens his mouth. Closes it. Looks slowly back at the parrot.
The parrot fluffs up and lets out another echoing, enthusiastic “HISSSSSSSS.”
Warriors’s jaw tightens. “Something nearby.”
Legend snorts. “Oh. That’s reassuring.”
They both turn very carefully to look down the dark corridor behind the bird. The bickering resumes immediately.
“This is your fault for wanting to come in here.”
“Oh please, you were the one who wanted to prove he wasn’t scared.”
“I wasn’t scared!”
“You screamed like a dying fairy.”
“I was startled!”
“By a parrot!”
“It sounded like a monster!”
“It is literally a bird!”
“THAT’S WORSE.”
Legend takes one step back to gesture emphatically at the bird.
“And another thing—!”
Warriors shoves him. Not hard. Just enough to get him out of his personal space. Legend’s heel hits a loose stone. There is a soft, traitorous crack. And then the floor gives out beneath him.
“WHAT—!”
Legend vanishes with a yelp as a hidden panel drops open, dumping him straight down into darkness.
Warriors lunges forward. “Oh golden goddesses — Legend!”
He skids to the edge and drops to his knees, peering into the hole. It’s a narrow shaft, stone-lined, deep enough that Legend is already half-lost to shadow.
“I’m sorry— I didn’t— are you hurt?!”
Legend groans from below. “I’m fine. I think. My pride’s dead.”
Warriors exhales shakily and reaches down. “Here. Grab my arm. I’ll pull you up.”
Legend looks at the offered hand. Then up at Warriors. Then his mouth curls into something sharp and vindictive.
“Oh.” he says. “Oh this is perfect.”
“Legend—”
Legend grabs Warriors’s wrist—and yanks. Warriors has just enough time to gasp before he’s pulled clean off balance and tumbles down after him, hitting the stone floor in an undignified sprawl. Legend laughs. Actually laughs. “Ha! Revenge!”
Warriors lies there for a moment, staring up at the distant square of light far above them. Then, very slowly, he sits up. His voice is suddenly flat. “Great. Now how, exactly, do you propose we get back up?”
Legend’s grin fades. “…Oh.”
The parrot echoes faintly from above. “HISSSSSS.”
For a long, uncomfortable second, they both stare up at the hole. The light is very far away.
Legend clears his throat. “Okay, so…”
Warriors rounds on him. “That was the dumbest thing you have ever done.”
“Oh please!” Legend snaps back. “You shoved me into a trap!”
“I shoved you away from my face!”
“And then you fell in like an idiot!”
“You pulled me!”
“Because you deserved it!”
Warriors steps forward. “I was trying to help you!”
“Oh, was that before or after you knocked me through the floor?!”
They’re nose to nose now, both bristling.
“You are impossible.” Warriors hisses.
“You are insufferable!”
Warriors jabs a finger into Legend’s chest. “This is why nobody likes you.”
Legend slaps his hand away. “At least I don’t need a mirror to feel validated!”
Warriors makes an offended noise and shoves him. Legend stumbles back, then lunges forward, tackling Warriors squarely in the chest. They go down in a tangle of limbs and indignation, rolling across the cold stone floor.
“Get off me!”
“Stop pinning me!”
“I’m not pinning you, you’re just short!”
Legend knees him in the side. Warriors elbows him in the shoulder. Someone’s boot connects with something painful. Above them, dust trickles down from the hole as they continue to scuffle, utterly ignoring the extremely important problem of being trapped in a pit in a cursed temple with a monster-mimicking parrot. They’re going to die down here. Eventually, Warriors manages to get a grip on the back of Legend’s tunic and hauls. Legend leaves the ground with a furious, indignant yelp, boots kicking uselessly in the air.
“HEY! Put me down!”
Warriors holds him at arm’s length like he’s holding a very loud, very angry cat.
“Stop flailing!”
“I am not flailing, I am attacking!”
“You are five seconds away from scratching my face!”
Legend swipes at him anyway, just to be spiteful. Warriors leans back to avoid it. “Oh, that’s mature.”
“Let me go!”
“No!” Warriors snaps. “Not until you calm down.”
Legend’s face is red with fury. “You do not get to manhandle me after throwing me into a pit!”
Warriors shakes him slightly. “Can you please, for once in your life, focus? We are trapped in a cursed temple, possibly with a monster, and if we die down here it is not going to be heroic or dramatic or even remotely impressive.”
Legend hisses. “Let me go.”
“It’s going to be sad,” Warriors continues, “and pathetic, and probably involve us starving in the dark while a bird screams at us.”
Legend freezes.
Warriors lowers his voice. “That is not how I’m dying.”
Slowly, Legend stops struggling. “…You’re still holding me.” he mutters.
Warriors blinks. “Oh. Right.”
He sets him down. They sit. Not gracefully. Not cooperatively. They drop down on opposite sides of the narrow stone floor, backs against the wall, legs stretched out in stubborn, offended angles. The pit is quiet now, save for the distant drip of water and the faint, mocking echo of the parrot above.
Legend huffs. “Great. Just great.”
Warriors rubs a hand down his face. There is still dirt on his cheek. He does not have the emotional bandwidth to care about that right now.
“Well?” he snaps. “Any brilliant survival ideas, or did you use them all up on petty revenge?”
Legend glares at him. Then, grudgingly, looks around. “I checked when I fell. Everywhere but the chamber above is caved in. There’s no tunnel, no secret door, no conveniently placed ladder.”
Warriors stares at him. “You mean to tell me,” he says slowly, “that the only way out is the hole you dragged me down through?”
Legend shrugs. “Looks that way.”
Warriors groans and drops his head back against the wall. “You literally signed our death sentence.”
“Oh, don’t be dramatic.”
“I am not being dramatic.” Warriors says. “I am being accurate. We are going to die in a hole because you wanted to feel vindicated.”
Legend folds his arms. “You shoved me.”
“You pulled me into a pit.”
“You started it.”
Warriors closes his eyes. Somewhere far above them, the parrot hisses again. Perfect. Warriors pushes himself to his feet and starts pacing, boots scraping against old stone. His foot bumps against something half-buried in dust. A torch. Old wood, dried cloth wrapped around the top, blackened from previous use. Ancient, but intact. Warriors crouches and picks it up, turning it over in his hands.
“Oh, fantastic.” he mutters. “A torch. Just what we need.”
Legend watches warily. “What are you doing?”
Warriors doesn’t answer. He rears back and hurls it at the wall. It smacks against the stone and falls uselessly to the floor.
“There.” Warriors says bitterly. “Perfect. No way to light that. Now we get to die alone down here in the dark and the last thing I’ll see is your stupid face.”
Legend stares at the fallen torch. Then at Warriors. “…You are unbelievably dramatic.”
Warriors crosses his arms. “I prefer the term ‘realistic.’”
Warriors pauses, visibly getting an idea, he snaps his fingers. The sound is sharp in the enclosed space, loud enough that Legend flinches despite himself. He turns slowly, deliberately, eyes locking onto Legend in a way that makes the other hero immediately suspicious.
“You still have that fire rod, right?”
Legend’s mouth opens. Closes.
“…Why.”
“That wasn’t the question.” Warriors says sweetly.
Legend squints at him. “Yes. I have it. And before you ask—”
“Can it produce a small flame?”
Legend pauses, then sighs with exaggerated gravity. “Only fireballs, I’m afraid.”
Warriors presses two fingers into his temple. “Of course it does.”
Somewhere above them, the parrot hisses again, echoing through the shaft like a taunt.
A minute later, Warriors is standing directly beneath the opening in the ceiling, arm raised straight up, holding the ancient wooden torch like an offering to whatever cruel deity is watching this unfold. His shoulder is already beginning to ache.
“This is a terrible idea.” he announces.
Legend stands a safe distance away, feet planted, fire rod braced in both hands like a proper spell-caster. He squints down its length, lining up the shot.
“Hold still.”
“I am holding still.”
“You’re shaking.”
“You’re aiming a rod that shoots fire at me, of course I’m shaking.”
Legend adjusts his aim. “If you move, I will hit you.”
“You’re already going to hit me.”
“No, I’m not.”
“You just told me you will!”
“Stop talking!”
Warriors swallows hard. “I don’t like this. I don’t like being in this position. I’m too flammable for this.”
“Arm up. Higher.”
“My arm is going to fall off.”
“Higher.”
Warriors stretches as far as he can, rising onto his toes. “Oh Hylia.” he whispers, “I’m going to die down here and the last face I’ll see is yours.”
Legend squints harder. “Would you stop narrating your own death?”
“I would like to file a complaint!”
“SHUT UP!”
The fire rod glows. Legend inhales, steadying himself. Warriors’s breath catches.
“Oh no.”
The fireball launches. It streaks through the air in a blur of heat and light. Warriors feels the sudden rush of warmth, then a sharp whoosh above his head. The torch erupts into flame. So does part of his hair. There is a brief, horrifying moment where Warriors can smell burning wood and something much, much worse. Burning hair.
Warriors screams, and then he flails, nearly dropping the torch as he slaps wildly at the smoking curls on his head.
Legend stares, then bursts out laughing. “I got it!”
“You set me on fire!”
“I lit the torch!”
“My hair is smouldering!”
Legend lowers the rod, still grinning. “Barely. You’ll live.”
Warriors stands there, panting, holding the now-brightly-burning torch aloft while wisps of smoke drift from his scorched fringe. “…I hate you.” he says weakly.
Legend wipes a tear of laughter from his eye. “You’re welcome.”
Legend, still grinning, holds out his hand. “Alright. Give it here.”
Warriors jerks the torch closer to his chest like a dragon guarding a hoard. “Absolutely not. I almost died to light this torch.”
“You lost three hairs.”
“Those were important hairs.”
Legend rolls his eyes. “You are so dramatic.”
Warriors opens his mouth to retort, but then the torchlight flickers across the far wall. The shadows shift. And something changes. Warriors slows, lifting the torch higher. The old stone is carved in uneven blocks, worn by time, but now, now he can see the faint outline of something that wasn’t obvious in the dark. A seam. A break in the wall. A narrow arch half-hidden behind centuries of grime.
“Wait.” he murmurs.
Legend follows his gaze.
“Oh.”
They stare. A passageway, sloping upward, just barely wide enough for two people to squeeze through if they don’t mind brushing shoulders. It disappears into shadow, but it is very clearly a way out. Warriors lowers the torch between them. Legend looks at him. For once, neither of them says anything stupid.
“…Well.” Legend finally mutters. “That’s promising.”
Warriors nods, already moving toward it. “Let’s go.”
They exchange a glance, sharp, wary, but not hostile this time, and head for the passage together, the torchlight throwing their shadows long and tangled against the stone. The passage slopes upward at a shallow angle, just enough to make Warriors feel like they’re making progress instead of merely wandering into a deeper, more personal layer of doom. The air grows drier as they walk, less stale, though it still carries the sharp tang of old stone and dust that’s been undisturbed for far too long. Warriors keeps the torch held high, its flame flickering against the walls and pulling forgotten carvings out of the dark. Stylised birds. Twisting vines. A few faded figures that might once have been gods, or kings, or possibly very ambitious gardeners.
“So,” Warriors says, because silence has been sitting there undisturbed for almost a full minute and that simply will not do, “You think we'll die down here?”
Legend doesn’t look at him. “If you don’t stop talking, I will personally make sure you do.”
Warriors smiles. “See, that’s the spirit.”
Legend's expression is nothing short of disdain.
They step over a section of cracked floor, stones crunching under their boots. The corridor widens slightly, revealing a long, collapsed mural half-buried beneath rubble. Warriors pauses, angling the torch down to illuminate it. “Oh, wow. Look at that. That’s either a heroic battle scene or a family argument that really got out of hand.”
Legend glances despite himself. “Those are monsters.”
“Are you sure? That one looks like my Impa” He jokes dryly.
Legend groans. “Do you ever shut up?”
Warriors looks genuinely taken aback. “I could. Why are you always so rude!”
“Because we’re in a ruin thats probably trying to kill us!” Legend snaps. “Some quiet would be nice.”
Warriors steps around a fallen pillar, careful not to let the torch brush the ancient stone. “I’m just saying, it’s much easier to tolerate unspeakable horrors when you’re not in a weird, oppressive silence.”
“Silence is better than your voice.”
“That hurts.”
“It’s supposed to.”
They continue on, their shadows stretching and warping along the walls. The ruin creaks softly, settling in on itself like an old creature shifting in its sleep.
Warriors clears his throat. “You know, you’re not very good at teamwork.”
Legend shoots him a glare. “Says the guy who uses sacred artefacts as mirrors.”
“That shield was extremely helpful.”
“It was my shield.”
“And I was using it to look heroic.”
“You were using it to admire yourself.”
“There’s a difference.”
Legend mutters something about ego the size of Hyrule. They reach a narrow bridge spanning a dark drop. Warriors slows, peering over the edge. He can’t see the bottom, just a yawning black that smells faintly of damp stone and bad decisions. “Wow.” he murmurs. “You think that goes somewhere interesting?”
“Probably straight to death.”
“Ah. My favourite destination.”
Legend steps past him. “Move, you’re blocking the path.”
Warriors steps aside, still holding the torch out over the chasm. “You know, if we fall, at least we’ll fall together. Very poetic.”
Legend grimaces. “You’re insufferable.”
“And yet,” Warriors replies cheerfully, “you’re still walking next to me.”
They make it another dozen steps before Legend stops so abruptly Warriors nearly walks into him.
“…Don’t move.” Legend says.
Warriors peers over his shoulder. “Why?”
“There’s something on the wall.”
Warriors lifts the torch, letting the light spill over the stone. A spider. Not huge. Not tiny. Just… there, crouched in a shallow crack between two blocks of stone, its legs folded in a way that suggests it knows exactly how unsettling it looks. Legend clears his throat. “Okay. Fine. That’s… that’s nothing. Just a spider.”
“It’s very spider-shaped.” Warriors confirms.
“I know what it is.” Legend snaps. “I’m just saying it’s not a problem.”
The spider twitches. Legend stiffens. “…It moved.”
“Yes.” Warriors says dryly. “That’s what they do.”
Legend’s jaw tightens. “It shouldn’t.”
“It definitely should.”
Legend takes a careful step sideways.
The spider shifts again.
Legend stops breathing.
“It’s… it’s looking at me.” he says.
“I don’t think spiders have—”
“It knows.”
Legend backs up another inch, bumping into Warriors’s chest.
“Okay…” Warriors says slowly. “Maybe give it some space.”
“I am giving it space.” Legend mutters, continuing to inch backward. “I am being extremely reasonable about this.”
The spider crawls down the wall. Legend makes a strangled sound and suddenly he is very much not reasonable about this, grabbing Warriors’s sleeve and half-ducking behind him.
“Do not let it near me.”
Warriors blinks at the grip on his arm. “You’re scared of spiders?”
“I am not scared.” Legend says through clenched teeth. “I just have a healthy respect for creatures that could crawl into your mouth while you sleep.”
“That is… alarmingly specific.”
“Kill it.”
“I’m not killing it.”
Legend glares at him. “Move it. Relocate it. Banish it from this plane.”
Warriors carefully steps forward and nudges the spider with the flat of his blade, guiding it toward a crack in the stone. It scuttles away and disappears.
“There.” Warriors says. “Gone.”
Legend releases his sleeve slowly. He waits for the comment. The smirk. The inevitable, unbearable teasing.
Warriors just looks at him, oddly gentle. “…You good?” he asks.
Legend huffs. “I was fine.” He lets out a sharp, frustrated sigh. “Okay! That’s it.” he snaps. “Go ahead. Laugh. Make fun of me. Call me scared of bugs or whatever. I don’t care.”
Warriors just looks at him. There’s a flicker of mild amusement there, sure, but not the sharp, cutting kind Legend’s braced for. More like he’s trying not to smile at something unexpectedly human.
“…You done?” Warriors asks.
Legend blinks. “What?”
Warriors turns, lifting the torch and casting its light farther down the corridor. “We should keep moving. This place is still creepy, spider or no spider.”
Legend stares at his back for a second, thrown off. “…That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
They head deeper into the ruin, the torchlight bobbing between them, shadows stretching long over the stone as if the walls themselves are leaning in to listen. For a little while, they just walk. The corridor narrows and widens in uneven rhythms, the architecture sloping into something more deliberate as they go. The torchlight slides over carved pillars and half-eroded symbols, and the ruin feels older the deeper they move into it, like they’re stepping through layers of forgotten intention. Legend keeps his eyes forward, jaw set. He is very deliberately not thinking about spiders. Or pits. Or parrots that hiss like monsters.
Then Warriors starts whistling. It’s soft at first, barely more than a breath between notes, a light, wandering tune that bounces gently off the stone walls. It threads through the quiet in a way that is almost… pleasant. Legend pretends not to notice. He focuses on the path ahead. On the pattern of cracked tiles under his boots. On the way the shadows stretch and fold around them. The whistling continues. Gets a little louder. A little more confident. Legend’s eyebrow twitches. He keeps walking. Warriors adds a flourish to the tune. Legend clenches his teeth. The notes echo now, filling the corridor, turning the ruin into a very unwilling concert hall.
“…You’re doing that on purpose.” Legend mutters.
Warriors whistles innocently. Legend stops. Turns slowly.
“Do you have to?” he asks flatly.
Warriors lowers the torch just enough to grin at him. “It keeps the fear away.”
“It’s attracting it.”
“You’re just mad it’s catchy.”
Legend glares. “If something eats us, I’m haunting you.”
Warriors resumes whistling, completely unbothered. Legend lets it go on for exactly three more steps. Then five. Then ten. The whistling curls through the corridor, bright and careless against the ruin’s heavy, ancient silence, echoing off the walls like it’s actively daring something to come investigate.
Legend finally snaps. “Seriously, stop it. You’re going to attract something.”
Warriors glances over his shoulder, still walking. “Relax. Everything dangerous already knows we’re here.”
“That’s not comforting.”
“It should be.”
“It really shouldn’t.”
The whistling doesn’t stop.
Legend scowls at the back of his head. “If a monster jumps out because you wanted to perform, I’m pushing you in front of it.”
Warriors lifts the torch a little higher, waggling it. “At least it’ll see me coming.”
The corridor spills out into a small, square chamber, its ceiling low and its corners bowed with centuries of quiet decay. Dust coats the floor in a soft, untouched layer, broken only by the faint scuff of their boots. The air smells faintly of rot and damp wood. At the far end stands a door. A real one. Not stone. Not sealed. Not carved into the wall. Wood. Old, warped, streaked with dark stains where moisture has soaked into it over the years. Rusted iron bands hold it together in a way that suggests it is surviving entirely out of stubbornness.
Warriors stops dead. “Oh, wow.” he breathes, stepping closer. “That is… genuinely impressive.”
Legend squints at it. “It looks like it’s about to fall over.”
“Exactly.” Warriors says, reverent. “Which means it’s been standing here for, what, hundreds of years? Maybe more? Do you realise how rare it is for untreated wood to survive this long underground?” He raises the torch to examine the grain, leaning in far too close for comfort. “Look at the pattern here. You can still see the original cut marks. That’s not just old, that’s—”
The fire rod discharges.
A roaring bolt of flame tears through the air, blasting the door apart in a violent explosion of splintered wood and blackened iron. The impact sends shards flying across the chamber, smoke billowing where the door used to be. Warriors yelps and throws himself backward, tripping over his own boots and barely keeping the torch upright.
“LEGEND!”
Legend lowers the fire rod, eyes bright. “There. Open.”
“My FACE was RIGHT there!”
“It’s not anymore.”
“That’s not reassuring!”
Warriors scrambles to his feet, patting his hair frantically. A few strands are smoking again. “Do you have any idea how close that was? You nearly flambéed me!”
Legend shrugs. “You were taking too long.”
“I was appreciating history!”
“It was a door.”
“It was an ancient door!”
Legend gestures at the smouldering pile of debris. “And now it’s not a problem.”
Warriors glares at him. “You are a menace.”
“And you’re too flammable.” Legend shoots back.
The room beyond the destroyed door is enormous. The ceiling curves high overhead, lost in shadow, and thick stone columns rise from the floor like the ribs of some buried giant. Webbing hangs everywhere, long, drifting sheets of it stretched from pillar to pillar, clinging to the walls, drooping from the ceiling in pale, sticky curtains. Some of it trembles faintly, as if breathing. The torchlight glints off dozens of tiny reflections. Eyes. Spiders. Big ones. Horribly big ones. Their bodies are thick and dark, legs jointed at wrong-looking angles, mandibles clicking softly as they crawl across stone and silk alike. Legend takes one look. Then he very calmly steps behind Warriors. His fingers dig into the back of Warriors’s tunic, tight and urgent, and he makes a sharp, chopping motion with one hand, signing towards Warriors. don’t move.
Warriors stiffens, glancing back at him. Legend repeats the sign, slower now, more desperate. Warriors lifts the torch just enough to see what Legend is staring at. …Oh. A spider the size of a small dog creeps down a web strand near the far wall, its many eyes catching the light like scattered gems. Another scuttles across the floor, legs tapping softly against the stone. Legend presses closer, practically hiding behind Warriors, one hand clenched against his chest while the other jerks helplessly toward the spiders in pure, unfiltered distress. Warriors flicks his eyes back at him and makes a tiny, awkward thumbs-up and a hesitant, lopsided smile.
You’re okay. You’re brave. Fought worse. It’s not great signing, but the intent is there.
Legend’s response is immediate and furious, a slicing motion across his throat, then a sharp jab toward the spiders. He signs too for good measure. Kill them.
Warriors shakes his head and spreads his hands, wide, gesturing at the room. Too many.
Legend repeats the killing motion, harder this time, eyes wild, hands shaking as he signs. All of them.
Warriors swallows and starts gesturing, careful feet stepping in place with his fingers, hands moving slowly. We walk. Quiet.
Legend snaps his head side to side. No.
Warriors tries again, hands fluttering outward like a distraction. Maybe lure them?
Legend’s answer is an emphatic no, both hands slashing through the air. Warriors makes a running motion with two fingers. Legend tightens his grip on Warriors’s tunic and shakes his head violently, stabbing a finger at the floor between them. Not me.
The spiders shift, sensing movement. Warriors takes one careful step forward. Legend makes a small, broken sound that he swallows immediately, his fingers tightening until the fabric creases. Warriors hesitates only a second before reaching back. Legend’s knuckles are white where he’s gripping the cloth. Warriors gently but firmly peels his fingers away and replaces them with his own hand. Legend startles, breath catching, but he doesn’t pull away. Warriors leans in just enough for Legend to see his face and signs slowly, deliberately. It’s okay.
Legend’s eyes flick up, sharp and panicked. His free hand jerks slightly in a broken motion. Don’t.
Warriors shakes his head and signs again, calmer now, pointing to the torch, then the darkness beyond.
No light. Only us.
Then he taps his ear and shakes his head.
They can’t see. Only hear.
The spiders shift on their webs, legs clicking softly. Legend’s grip tightens again.
Warriors continues, tracing a slow, careful line through the air with his fingers.
Sound. Vibration.
Then he presses his palm flat and moves it slowly forward.
We go slow. Quiet. They won’t know.
Legend swallows hard. His chest rises and falls shallowly. After a moment, he nods.
Okay.
Warriors squeezes his hand and makes a small walking motion with two fingers.
Together. Easy.
They move. Every inch forward feels like a mile. The webs sway faintly as air shifts around them, and one of the spiders crawls a little closer, its many eyes glinting in the torchlight. Legend freezes, muscles locking.
Warriors squeezes his hand again and signs, slow and careful. It’s not looking. It can’t.
Legend forces himself to breathe, to move when Warriors does. Their boots barely scuff the stone. The spiders don’t react. Slowly, carefully, they inch across the chamber, hands still linked, holding their breath as the webs tremble above them. A spider shifts overhead, silk whispering against stone.
Legend flinches so hard Warriors feels it through their joined hands. His free hand rises shakily to his ear, fingers curling in a helpless gesture. I can hear them.
Warriors nods once. I know.
Carefully, he slides his free hand up to his neck and loosens his scarf, easing it off with as little sound as possible. Legend turns his head, eyes darting. His fingers twitch in a questioning motion. What are you doing?
Warriors lifts one hand, palm open in a calming gesture. Trust me.
He folds the scarf once. Twice. Then lifts it toward Legend’s face.
Legend hesitates, breath shallow.
Warriors signs gently. Don’t look.
Then taps his own chest. I’ll guide you.
Legend’s jaw trembles. His hands twitch in a broken, uncertain shape. I don’t like… not seeing…
Warriors leans closer and signs, steady and sure. I’ve got you. You’re safe.
After a long, agonising moment, Legend nods. Warriors ties the scarf carefully around his eyes. Darkness takes him, and his breath stutters.
Legend’s hand tightens around Warriors’s, his fingers shaking as he signs blindly. I can still hear them.
Warriors squeezes back. He moves their joined hands forward slightly. Legend clings to him, every muscle taut. A spider crawls down a web strand near their path, its shadow sliding over the stone. Legend jolts, a silent gasp tearing through him. Warriors squeezes his hand harder. They move forward together, torchlight flickering, spiders shifting all around them, guided only by trust and trembling hands. The corridor ahead appears like a miracle. A narrow opening between two pillars, barely wide enough to slip through, and at the end of it, a door. Stone this time. Solid. Real. Warriors sees it first. He tightens his grip on Legend’s hand and gently shifts their direction, guiding him step by careful step. His movements are slow, deliberate, his whole focus wrapped around keeping Legend steady and quiet. They pass beneath one last curtain of webbing. A spider crawls above them. Warriors holds his breath and moves anyway. Three steps. Two. One. They reach the door. Warriors eases it open just enough for them to slip through, then pulls Legend inside after him. The moment both of them are clear, he reaches back and pushes the door shut.
Stone meets stone with a low, merciful thud. Silence. The webs and clicking legs are gone, sealed away behind thick rock. Warriors doesn’t move for a second, just making sure nothing follows. Then he gently unties the scarf from Legend’s eyes. The dull light of the torch returns. Legend blinks, disoriented, then looks around the small, empty chamber they’re in now.
Safe.
His shoulders sag in a way Warriors has never seen before.
“…Thanks.” Legend says quietly, not meeting his eyes.
Warriors gives a small, crooked smile, he gives the door a proper shove to ensure its closure, and then he exhales like he’s just surfaced from underwater. Then, naturally, he starts talking.
“Well! That was absolutely horrifying.” he announces, brushing dust from his sleeves. “I’m putting that in my top five worst rooms, right under ‘hallway that screams back’ and ‘crypt full of hands.’”
Legend leans against the wall, still breathing a little too fast, eyes fixed on the floor. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t tell Warriors to shut up either. Warriors keeps going, pacing the small chamber as he talks. “Also, I just want it on record that if anyone asks, you were very brave. Absolutely heroic. I, on the other hand, nearly dropped the torch about twelve times, which would have been extremely embarrassing.”
Legend’s mouth twitches, he huffs a quiet, breathless sound that might almost be a laugh.
Warriors notices. He talks faster. “And the webs, oh, the webs. I am never going to feel clean again. I’m going to take three baths after this. Maybe four. One just for my hair.” Warriors keeps going, because of course he does. “You know, for a nest of nightmare creatures, the interior design was really lacking. All that webbing? No cohesion. No style. Just… sticky chaos.”
Legend snorts quietly before he can stop himself.
Warriors grins. “There it is.”
“…You never stop, do you?” Legend mutters.
“It’s a gift.”
Legend doesn’t argue this time. He exhales slowly, tension bleeding out of him with each steady, ridiculous word. “…Keep going.”
Warriors brightens. “Oh, gladly.”
Warriors is still mid-monologue, pacing in loose, careless arcs across the chamber. “…and then there was this one dungeon with sentient vines, which honestly felt a little rude, because I don’t go around grabbing them without consent—”
Legend looks up. His eyes widen. Right in front of Warriors, half-hidden in shadow, is a thin, nearly invisible wire stretched across the floor. Legend opens his mouth.
“Warri—”
It’s too late. Warriors is already stepping forward. Legend doesn’t think. He grabs the back of Warriors’s scarf and yanks. Warriors yelps as he’s pulled backward, boots sliding out from under him. The torch flies from his hand, clattering and rolling across the stone. A heartbeat later… A massive axe blade swings down from the ceiling exactly where Warriors had been standing, slamming into the floor with a thunderous CRASH that echoes through the ruins. They both freeze. Slowly, Warriors props himself up on his elbows and looks at the axe. “…Wow.”
Legend’s chest is heaving. “You— you almost—!”
Warriors lets out a shaky laugh. “That is the tackiest dungeon cliché I have ever seen.”
Legend stares at him. “You were going to die.”
“Yes,” Warriors says, still laughing weakly, “but at least it would’ve been very on-brand.”
Legend is on him in an instant. He grabs Warriors by the arm and hauls him back to his feet, hands still shaking just a little. The moment Warriors is upright, Legend’s fist connects sharply with his shoulder.
“Watch where you’re going, dipshit.”
Warriors winces, rubbing the spot. “Ow—!”
Legend glares at him, breath still unsteady. “You were two steps away from becoming floor decor”
Warriors manages a crooked grin. “But you saved me.”
Legend looks away. “Yeah. Well. Don’t make me do it again.”
Warriors straightens, retrieves the torch, and gives Legend an easy smile. “You’d miss me.”
Legend mutters, “Unfortunately.”
They’re just starting to move again when a sound rolls through the ruins. Low. Deep. A guttural hiss that vibrates through the stone and sends dust trickling from the ceiling. Legend stiffens. Warriors tilts his head, listening. “…Ah.” he says dryly. “So that’s what the parrot was mimicking.”
Legend grimaces. “That’s not comforting.”
“No.” Warriors agrees. “But it is vindicating.”
They move forward slowly now, the torch held just high enough to light the path without advertising them to anything that might be listening. Warriors keeps his eyes on the floor, on the walls, on the ceiling, anywhere a trap might be hiding. Every few steps, he pauses, scanning, breathing shallow. Legend mirrors him without thinking, footsteps quiet, sword low but ready.
After a long stretch of silence, Warriors leans in just a little and whispers, “So… if that hissing thing comes this way, do we fight it or run?”
Legend doesn’t look at him when he answers. “Depends how big it is.”
“Better or worse than the spiders?”
“Everything is better than the spiders.”
Warriors huffs a soft, nervous laugh. They creep past a cracked column, shadows pooling thickly at its base. Something skitters in the dark beyond their light.
Legend murmurs, “You’re stepping too loud.”
Warriors winces and shifts his weight. “Sorry.”
They continue, slow and careful, every whisper and breath swallowed by the ancient stone around them. The corridor spills them into a chamber so large it steals the air from Warriors’s lungs. The ceiling arches high above them, vanishing into shadow, supported by enormous stone ribs that curve inward like the inside of some ancient beast. The floor is wide and bare, polished smooth by time and forgotten feet, with only a few cracked tiles and half-buried carvings to break the open space. Every sound echoes here. Every breath feels too loud. Legend hates it immediately.
“Don’t like this.” he mutters under his breath, eyes darting to the dark above. “This is a trap. This is absolutely a trap.”
Warriors, still recovering from spiders and axes and nearly being on fire twice, looks around with forced casualness. “You say that about every room.”
“This time I mean it.”
Legend grabs the back of Warriors’s tunic and tugs. “Move. Now.”
“Alright, alright.” He tries to step forward. His boot catches on a raised edge of stone. Warriors stumbles, arms flailing, and goes down hard, the torch skittering away across the smooth floor as he lands on his side with a pained groan. “Oh, no, that was… that was my bad knee, Hylia! That’ll be stiff for at least a week.”
Legend whirls back toward him. And then he sees it. Above them, something detaches itself from the darkness. At first it looks like a shadow shifting. Then legs unfold. Long. Thick. Too many. A spider the size of a carriage is lowering itself from the ceiling on strands of web as thick as rope, its massive body swaying slightly as it descends. Its eyes catch the scattered torchlight, glowing wet and reflective. Mandibles click, slow and deliberate. Legend’s blood runs cold. “Wars.” he breathes.
Warriors rolls onto his back, still wincing, and follows Legend’s gaze upward. He freezes. The spider hangs directly over him now, suspended only a few feet above his face, its shadow swallowing him whole. Warriors looks at Legend. Legend looks at Warriors. Neither of them moves. The web creaks softly as the enormous spider lowers itself another inch. Warriors doesn’t breathe. He can’t. Not really. His chest is locked tight as the truth of what’s hovering above him crashes down all at once. The spider’s body fills his vision, a black, looming mass suspended on thick cords of webbing. Its legs stretch outward in long, awful arcs, each one ending in hooked points that scrape softly against the air as it shifts. His mouth is open, frozen in a silent gasp. Legend is no better. He stands a few paces away, eyes wide, every muscle pulled tight like a bowstring. His sword is halfway raised, useless against something that big, and he knows it. The spider lowers another inch. Its mandibles click. Warriors’s heart thunders in his ears. Very, very slowly, he presses his palms against the cold stone and begins to pull himself backward. Not crawling, crawling would make too much noise, just sliding, inch by agonising inch, trying not to scrape, not to breathe, not to exist.
A tiny pebble shifts beneath his hand.
The spider’s legs twitch.
Legend’s knuckles go white around his sword hilt.
Warriors stops moving.
Seconds stretch. Nothing happens.
Carefully, he moves again.
The distance between him and the shadow grows by a fraction. His muscles burn from holding himself so tense. Sweat trickles down his temple, and he doesn’t dare wipe it away. The spider hangs there, blind and enormous, sensing only the faint tremors of the world beneath it. One wrong move and it will know. The web touches him first. A thin, almost weightless strand drifts down from somewhere in the dark and brushes across Warriors’s forearm. It sticks there, clinging to the fabric of his sleeve in a way that makes his skin crawl. Then something thicker lands. Wet. Cold. It splatters against his shoulder and begins to slowly ooze downward, catching in the folds of his tunic.
Warriors’s breath stutters. His eyes drop. He stares at the pale webbing and the glistening, viscous mystery fluid now decorating him like some kind of nightmare accessory. His expression collapses into quiet, horrified despair. No. He lifts two fingers, trying to peel the strand away, moving as carefully as someone defusing a bomb made of slime. Legend sees it in the light from the discarded torch.
His entire body tenses, panic flashing across his face. He whips his hands up in a furious blur of silent gestures. Stop. Don’t. Now is not the time.
Warriors looks up at him, eyes wide and pleading, one hand still hovering over the sticky mess like it might bite him. The spider shifts overhead. A leg scrapes faintly against webbing.
Legend’s hands repeat the warning, sharper now, almost desperate. Still. Quiet.
Warriors freezes again, fingers trembling, the awful web and fluid still clinging to him as the massive shadow looms above. Another drop falls. Thicker this time. It splats against Warriors’s chest and slowly slides down, warm and sticky and absolutely unacceptable, he realises where the fluid has come from, dripping from skeletal forms webbed to the ceiling. His eyes go unfocused for half a second. Then he gags, a sharp, involuntary sound that escapes his throat.
The effect is immediate. The spider jerks. Its legs slam against the stone and webbing as it suddenly scuttles forward, moving with terrifying speed toward the sound Warriors has just made. The floor trembles beneath its weight as it closes the distance, mandibles clicking, body lowering straight toward him. Warriors doesn’t move. He can’t. He stares up at the thing barreling toward him, face pale, mouth open in silent horror. Legend exhales through his teeth, deeply unimpressed with the situation. He grabs a loose stone from the floor and hurls it as hard as he can across the chamber. It clatters loudly against the far wall. The spider screeches and veers sharply, charging toward the sound instead. Warriors is left lying there, face to face with the massive creature as it pivots away, webbing trailing behind it. He blinks, a trembling smile on his lips as he signs with shaking fingers. Slowly.
Legend I think I just crapped myself
The moment the spider turns away, Legend is moving. He sprints across the stone floor and grabs Warriors by the collar, yanking him upright so fast Warriors barely has time to find his feet. The torch lies forgotten where it fell, its flame guttering weakly as the chamber fills with the frantic scuttle of the spider rushing toward the far wall.
Legend’s hands are already flying. Run. Now.
Warriors shakes his head, eyes still glued to the monster, and the torch. No. wait.
Legend grabs his wrist and signs harder, sharper. We go. Before it turns back.
Warriors swallows, then gestures wildly in return. Where? Door?
Legend points toward a dark archway on the far side of the chamber. Warriors nods, heart hammering. Together, they pivot, still half-crouched, still trying not to make too much noise, and break into a careful, desperate sprint across the open floor as the spider’s furious clicking echoes behind them. They don’t make it far. Legend’s boot hits something invisible. Sticky. His foot jerks to a sudden stop as thick webbing wraps around his ankle and calf, clinging instantly. He stumbles with a sharp, silent curse, hands flying out to catch himself, only to tangle in more of it. The webbing stretches, taut and trembling, every frantic movement sending vibrations rippling through the chamber like a struck string. The spider shrieks somewhere behind them. Legend’s eyes go wide.
He whips his hands through the air toward Warriors. Go. Leave me.
Warriors skids to a stop and spins around. No. His hands move fast, furious. Cut yourself out.
He draws his sword in one smooth motion and steps in front of Legend, feet planting against the stone. Warriors raises the blade, shoulders squared, eyes locked on the dark behind them. He doesn’t look back. I’ve got you.
The web trembles. Then the floor begins to shake. The spider charges. It comes at them with the speed of a galloping horse, its massive legs pounding against the stone in a thunderous rhythm, webbing tearing loose as it surges forward toward the frantic vibrations of Legend struggling behind Warriors. Warriors doesn’t move. He plants his feet and lifts his sword. The spider’s mandibles snap inches from his face as it barrels in. Warriors slashes. Steel bites into one of its legs, slicing through chitin with a wet, cracking sound. The spider shrieks, a horrible, piercing noise that rattles the walls. Legend hacks desperately at the web around his legs, eyes never leaving Warriors. The spider recoils, then lunges again, faster this time. Warriors dodges sideways, barely avoiding a crushing blow from one of its legs, then brings his sword down hard on its body.
It doesn’t go down. It doesn’t even slow much. But it does turn. And it turns toward him. The spider barrels toward him again, legs hammering against stone, each impact sending shudders through the floor. Warriors meets it head-on. Steel flashes in the torchlight as he darts forward, blade slicing through one of its front legs in a clean, practiced arc. The limb falls away with a wet crack, ichor splattering across the stone. The spider shrieks, rearing back, its massive body swaying as it tries to re-balance.
“I told you this would get us killed!” Warriors yells, breath ragged as he pivots and dodges another strike. “This is exactly the sort of situation I complain about!”
Despite the danger, there’s something almost elegant in the way he moves now, every step confident, every strike precise. He ducks beneath a snapping mandible, comes up inside its reach, and drives his sword into the joint of another leg. The creature stumbles, screeching, one side sagging.
Legend watches from behind him, still tangled in webbing, hacking frantically as Warriors keeps the spider’s attention.
Warriors presses the advantage. He spins, scarf flaring, blade carving a steely arc through the air. Another leg shears off. The spider’s movements grow erratic, clumsy, its enormous bulk starting to list. For a split second, Warriors allows himself to feel it. The rhythm. The control. The way the fight is bending to his will. He steps in too close. A remaining leg lashes out, faster than he expects, its razor-sharp edge cutting across his knee. Warriors grunts as pain lances through his leg, his balance shattering. He crashes to the ground, the spider towering over him once more.
Warriors can’t move.
Pain locks his leg in place, white-hot and blinding, and the only thing he can really see is the spider filling his entire world. Its massive body blocks out what little light there is, legs braced wide, mandibles opening as it lowers itself toward him in slow, inevitable inches.
This is it.
There’s nowhere to go. No strength left to roll. No room to dodge. The air vibrates with its breath. Then. Something streaks beneath it. A dark blur against the stone. Legend. He rips free of the last strands of webbing with a desperate wrench, skin burning, fabric tearing, and throws himself forward without hesitation. He drops low, sliding across the smooth floor on his side, then on his knees, right under the spider’s looming body. The spider shrieks, sensing the movement far too late. Legend comes up beneath it, teeth clenched, eyes blazing, and drives his sword upward with everything he has. The blade punches into the spider’s soft underside, sinking deep. Legend roars and yanks it down. The spider’s body splits open with a sickening tear. Dark, foul fluid pours out in a rush, splattering the stone, soaking Legend’s sleeves as he tears the blade free and slashes again. The spider screams, a horrible, keening sound that echoes through the chamber as its legs buckle and fold in on themselves. Its enormous weight crashes down beside Warriors, the impact shaking the floor hard enough to rattle his teeth.
The thing twitches once. Then goes still.
Warriors lies there, chest heaving, staring at the collapsed mass of what had been his death seconds ago.
Legend skids to a stop on the far side, breathing hard, sword dripping black.
For a long moment, neither of them says anything. The chamber is suddenly very, very quiet. Warriors drags in a shaky breath and pushes himself up on one elbow, pain flaring through his knee so hard it makes his vision blur.
“You absolute—” he starts, voice breaking with a mix of fury and adrenaline. “You idiot, you could’ve been—”
Legend is already shouting back, turning on him with wild, furious eyes. “You ran straight at it! What was that, some kind of stupid heroic instinct?!”
“I was keeping it off you!”
“You were going to get yourself killed!”
“You were stuck!”
“You didn’t have to stand there and—!”
They both stop. The words run out. The chamber is suddenly too quiet, the massive spider’s body sprawled between them, its dark fluid pooling across the stone like proof of how close it had been. Legend’s hands are shaking. Warriors’s breath comes in uneven pulls, one hand pressed to his injured knee, the other still clenched like it’s holding onto the fight. For a moment, neither of them knows what to do with all the leftover terror. Warriors exhales, slow and trembling.
“…You saved me.” he says, quieter now.
Legend swallows. “You were going to die.”
“Yeah.” Warriors admits. “I noticed.”
Legend takes a step closer. Then another. Warriors drops his sword. His shoulders sag, all the bravado draining out of him in one go. He opens his arms. Legend hesitates, just barely, then crosses the space between them and grabs him, fierce and desperate, burying his face against Warriors’s shoulder. Warriors wraps his arms around him, careful of his knee, one hand pressing solidly into Legend’s back like he’s afraid he might disappear. They cling to each other in the middle of the ruined chamber, surrounded by web and ichor and the remains of the thing that almost took them both. For once, neither of them is talking. And somehow, that says everything. Legend is the first to pull away. He reaches down and hooks an arm around Warriors’s shoulders, steady and solid, hauling him carefully to his feet. Warriors hisses as his injured knee protests, his weight sagging instantly into Legend’s side.
“Easy.” Legend mutters. “Don’t try to be brave.”
Warriors gives a weak, breathless laugh and grabs for the torch where it’s rolled near his hand. “I am physically incapable of not being dramatic.”
He leans against Legend, one arm braced around his shoulders, the other clutching the torch like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. His leg refuses to cooperate.
“Okay.” Warriors says, through clenched teeth, “I vote we leave. Immediately. Preferably forever.”
Legend snorts softly. “Yeah. I’m done with this place.”
Together, slow and unsteady, they turn toward the dark passage ahead, the flickering torchlight stretching their shadows long behind them as they start the long, careful walk out.
The staircase is the most beautiful thing Warriors has ever seen. It curves upward in a slow, graceful spiral, and for the first time since they fell into this nightmare, the air feels different. Cooler. Lighter. Real. Warriors lifts his head, eyes widening as faint gold light spills down between the steps. “Oh— oh that’s sunlight. That’s sunlight.”
Legend lets out a breathless laugh. “We did it. We actually did it.”
They climb together, slow but giddy, Warriors leaning heavily on Legend, every step an effort but also a promise. The higher they go, the brighter it gets. Dust motes drift lazily in the beams of light, glowing like tiny stars.
“When we get out,” Warriors says, voice shaky with relief, “I’m taking the longest bath of my life. I’m talking hours.With bubbles.”
“I’m burning my clothes.” Legend replies. “All of them. I don’t care if I have to walk back naked.”
Warriors snorts. “Please don’t. I’ve been through enough.”
They reach the top. The staircase opens into a narrow stone arch… that leads straight into a wall of rubble. Boulders. Broken rock. A full cave-in, packed tight and immovable. Thin streaks of sunlight slip through the cracks, mocking and beautiful and completely unreachable. They stop dead. Warriors stares. Legend stares.
“…No.” Legend whispers. He steps forward, shoving at the rocks, as if they might politely move. They do not.
Warriors’s voice is small. “That’s… not a door.”
Legend drops his pack and starts digging through it with growing urgency. “Okay. Okay. There has to be something, bombs, a spell, anything!”
He empties the contents onto the step. Potions. A hook-shot. A few battered tools. Nothing that will move a cave-in. His hands go still.
“…No.” he says again, this time hollow.
Warriors swallows. “You… don’t have anything that can get us through?”
Legend shakes his head slowly. The weight of it crashes down on them. Legend reaches out, guiding Warriors gently back down a step so he can sit without collapsing. Then he sits beside him, shoulders brushing. They look at the sunlight streaming through the cracks.
So close.
Warriors stares at it, disbelief draining the colour from his face. “…We’re really going to die in here.” he says quietly. He shifts, trying to get comfortable on the cold stone. The movement sends a fresh spike of pain through his leg. He looks down. The cut is deep, far deeper than he’d let himself think. Blood is soaking through the fabric of his trousers, dark and spreading, dripping slowly onto the steps below. Each pulse of his heart sends a new, quiet wave of red. Legend sees it too.
“…No!” he says sharply. “No, no!”
He scrambles to his feet and rushes to the cave-in, bracing his hands against the rocks. “We’ll get out. We have to. I’ll move it. I don’t care if it…”
He shoves at a boulder with bare hands. It doesn’t move. He tries another. Then another, breathing hard, fingers scraping against stone until they’re red and raw. Warriors watches him, face pale but oddly calm.
“Legend.” he says softly.
Legend ignores him, straining harder. “I can do it. I can—!”
Warriors reaches out and catches his sleeve. The touch is gentle, almost careful.
“It’s alright.” he murmurs. “Come sit with me.”
Legend freezes. Slowly, he turns back toward Warriors, eyes bright and furious and scared.
“…Don’t say that.”
Warriors gives him a tired, crooked smile. “Just… come here.”
Legend stays beside him, hands clenched in his lap, staring at the stone like it personally offended him. For a long moment, he doesn’t say anything.
Then, very quietly, “I’m sorry.”
Warriors turns his head toward him. Legend’s voice is rough, like it has to push through something sharp in his chest. “I know I’m… a lot. I know I’m mean. And I don’t always mean to be, but it just… comes out.” He laughs once, hollow. “I’ve spent so long on my own that I forgot how to be around people without pushing them away.”
His gaze flicks to Warriors’s blood-soaked leg, then away again. “You didn’t deserve that. You didn’t deserve any of it. You were just… being you.” His jaw tightens. “And you’re… you’re actually a really good guy. Annoying. Loud. But… good.” He swallows hard, eyes burning. “And you’re a better friend than I ever was to you.” Legend drags a hand over his face, furious at himself for it shaking. “So don’t just sit there and act like it’s okay to die, because it’s not. Not to me.”
Warriors looks at him, something soft and aching in his expression. Warriors looks at him for a long time. Then he lets out a slow, careful breath, like he’s afraid if he doesn’t choose his words just right they’ll fall apart between them. “Hey.” he says softly. “You don’t have to apologise for being… you.”
Legend snorts weakly. “I kind of do.”
Warriors shakes his head. “You’re grumpy and stubborn and you pretend you don’t care about anyone, but you threw yourself under a spider the size of a carriage for me. That counts for something. And besides, no one else can go toe to toe with me like you.”
Legend’s eyes finally meet his, glassy and raw. “You didn’t have to stand in front of it for me either.”
“I did.” Warriors says. “You were stuck.”
They both fall quiet for a moment, the cave filled only with the soft drip of water and the distant, muffled rumble of the ruin. Legend wipes at his eyes with the heel of his hand. “I’m really bad at… this. People. Feelings.”
“I noticed.”
Legend huffs out a wet laugh. “I don’t want to lose you.”
Warriors’ throat tightens. “You’re not.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not.” Warriors insists gently. “Not like that. I’m here. With you. That’s what matters right now.”
Legend leans closer, shoulders trembling. “I don’t want you to die.”
Warriors shifts, careful of his leg, and bumps his shoulder against Legend’s. “Then I won’t.” He says like its just that simple.
They sit there, pressed together, both of them teary and exhausted and scared, but not facing it by themselves anymore. Legend pulls him in harder, like if he lets go even for a second something terrible might happen. “Come here.” he mutters again, voice rough.
Warriors doesn’t resist. He leans into it, resting his forehead against Legend’s shoulder, breath shaky. Legend’s arms wrap around him in a tight, awkward hold, not graceful or careful, just desperately there. For a moment, Warriors is still. Then he hugs back. It’s clumsy because of his injured leg and the way he’s half-slumped on the stone steps, but he holds on just as fiercely, fingers digging into the back of Legend’s tunic.
“Hey.” Warriors murmurs, barely audible. “Don’t look at me like that.”
Legend’s face is pressed into his shoulder. “Like what.”
“Like you’re already… saying goodbye.”
Legend doesn’t answer. His grip tightens instead.
“I don’t want you to go,” he says quietly, the words muffled. “Not like this. Not here.”
Warriors swallows hard. “I know.”
They cling to each other, surrounded by broken stone and thin streaks of sunlight they can’t quite reach, both of them painfully aware of how little time might be left. The moment stretches and then the entire world shatters. A deafening BOOM rips through the stairwell as the cave-in explodes outward in a storm of stone and dust. Boulders crack and tumble, shards of rock flying past Warriors and Legend as they instinctively curl in on themselves, coughing as sunlight suddenly floods the dark. Warriors squints against the brightness, ears ringing, heart still pounding from everything that came before. Through the swirling dust, figures begin to emerge. Time is the first one through the breach, sword already drawn, eyes sharp and panicked in a way he probably doesn’t let anyone see very often. Twilight is right behind him, massive and solid, ready to charge into whatever horror might still be waiting. Sky follows, wide-eyed with relief. Hyrule sprints forward, already headed for Warriors leg. Four peers over everyone’s shoulders. Wild stands a little to the side, Sheikah Slate still glowing faintly in his hands like he just finished breaking reality.
“Oh!” he says brightly. “There you are.”
Legend blinks, still half in shock.
Four asks the only reasonable question. “What the fuck happened to you two?”
Warriors is covered in web, ichor, dust, and blood, slumped against Legend with his injured leg stretched out awkwardly. Legend looks like he fought an entire dungeon with his bare hands and lost.
Wind folds his arms and squints at them. “And why the hell are you hugging?”
Legend freezes. Warriors flushes, still half-clinging to him out of instinct.
Time lowers his sword slowly, eyes flicking to Warriors’s bleeding leg. “…We’ll ask questions later. And give scoldings.”
Sky rushes forward, already kneeling. “You’re hurt!”
Wild finally looks up from his Slate, blinking. “Oh wow. You guys really went through it, huh.”
Legend exhales, something like hysterical laughter threatening to break through, when he looks at Warriors there’s nothing but relief in his eyes.
Camp is quiet in the way it only ever is after something nearly goes terribly, terribly wrong. The fire crackles low and steady in the centre of the clearing, throwing warm light across bedrolls, packs, and tired faces. Someone has put a kettle on. Someone else is very carefully pretending not to stare at Warriors’s heavily bandaged leg.
Warriors sits on a log close to the flames, scarf draped loosely around his shoulders, posture relaxed for the first time in hours. Legend sits beside him, close enough that their boots touch.
They’re talking. Softly. Not arguing. Not sniping. Not throwing insults like knives. Actually talking.
“…and then the stupid thing just fell over!” Warriors is saying, gesturing vaguely with one hand. “Honestly, I don’t think it was expecting me to hit it there.”
Legend snorts. “You got lucky.”
“Skill.” Warriors corrects, smiling.
Legend rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling too.
Across the fire, Twilight watches them with open disbelief.
He leans toward Time and starts to say, “So… should we be worried abou—”
Time shoots him a look so sharp it could cut steel.
Twilight shuts his mouth immediately.
Don’t. Just let them have this. The look says.
The fire crackles. Legend playfully pushes Warriors shoulder, gently and with clear affection. Warriors laughs quietly at something Legend mutters, and for once, no one interrupts.