Chapter Text
Ryunosuke’s Journal
It’s not just Hebra. Earthquakes in Eldin, forest fires in Akkala, whirlpools in Lanaryu, landslides in the Gerudo Desert: all abnormal phenomena that’ve been reported recently. Not to mention, a swaggering mob of Bokoblins assailed Mabe Village’s Lon Lon Ranch just yesterday, breaking a fence and sending their goats into a scattered frenzy. The Bokoblins were quickly eliminated, but their willingness to approach an entire village area like that is alarming.
It’s all alarming. It can’t merely be a coincidence. Calamity Stronghart’s influence is no doubt driving all these events.
The researchers continue day after day looking for ways to activate the Divine Beasts, Guardians, and the Guidance Stones, but all their attempts haven’t garnered much progress. Considering the painting depicted the Guidance Stone interacting with the Sheikah Slate in some way, and the Sheikah Slate-shaped indents on the pedestals within the Divine Beasts, they must have some interconnected activation method… If only we can find whatever fuel source powers the Guardians themselves, then perhaps the answer will be clearer…
Ryunosuke shifts awkwardly, feeling exposed standing in the center of the vast Throne Room. Harsh light streams in from the imposing windows that line the walls of the Sanctum, casting deep shadows along the floor—spindly and ungainly specters that fluctuate with the tiniest of movements. Every breath, every noise: an echo against finely polished marble surfaces.
“Sorry, but I don’t quite understand,” Ryunosuke blabbles. He squeezes his hands together behind him. “You called for a private audience with me? Did you perhaps mean to request an audience with my father, King Naruhodo, instead? I’m afraid he won’t be able to see you in a timely manner.” The king had left on an expedition to Akkala Citadel to visit Ryunosuke’s uncle the day prior, and isn’t due to be back until at least three weeks later.
The man in front of him rises from his knee slowly, leaning on his cane for support. “Of course not, Your Highness. I’d been meanin’ to speak to you personally, so I have.” The man gives a smile—amiable, self-assured, enigmatic. He’s dressed in lush violets, with gold accenting the buttons of his suit and the long scarf draped over his shoulders. Atop his head: a tall top hat, trimmed with more gold. Many opulent rings inlaid with thick, vibrant jewels decorate his fingers—the gold metal clinking together with each hand movement. He’s affluent, and not shy to flaunt it. “You see, King Naruhodo is quite the busy man, as I’m sure you’re aware—his audiences are well booked in advance already—but this is a matter that I think you’d like to spearhead yourself, eh?” His eyes slip shut in a smile. He’s relaxed, poised—the absence of nerves indicative of his experience in situations like this. His very presence commands attention.
Ryunosuke blinks rapidly, racking his brain to figure out whatever matter could possibly pertain to him. “Um, yes! Please do proceed then, Mr. McGilded.”
Magnus McGilded, a well-regarded philanthropist and business mogul, is widely known and appreciated among both the nobility and common folk alike. He is a financier of numerous public projects around Castle Town, including the recently restored park that bears his namesake: McGilded Park. The only thing that rivals the man’s tremendous generosity is the size of his towering top hat.
“Aye, thank you, Your Highness.” McGilded folds his hands behind his back, pleased. “You see, I have heard you’re strugglin’ to tap into those divine powers of yours.” Ryunosuke opens his mouth to speak, but is cut off: “No, no, I quite understand!” He waves his hands out in front of him, eyes wide and mouth gone slack. “I cast no aspersions on you, fine prince. But, well, I’ve recently come into possession of quite the quare item, I have… Please indulge me: have you heard of the Temporal Timepiece by any chance?”
Ryunosuke’s eyebrows lift. “Of, of course. It’s said to be an artifact of great magical energy—directly connected to Goddess Hylia, herself.” His heartbeat quickens within his chest. “And you… You have it? How? The Royal Archivists have been searching for it for quite some time, to no luck.”
“Ah, well, they just don’t know the correct places to look.” He grins again, flashing his ringed fingers across his face. Ryunosuke exchanges a quick look with Kazuma, standing guard to his side. McGilded’s eyes grow wide as he flinches back. “Now, now, don’t be gettin’ the wrong ideas here! I can see it written plain on your rosy face: you're thinkin’ I procured it through illicit means! I can assure you it’s all perfectly legal—just an exclusive traders’ club, it is!” The irritation of his face and the way his shoulders heave make it look like he’s a second away from stomping his foot and raising a quarrel.
Ryunosuke’s mouth twists at that, wary but accepting of the explanation. “I-I see…” He breathes out an unsteady exhale. “And how much are you asking for it, exactly? …You came with the intention of selling it, I presume?”
“I’m an honorable man,” McGilded says, regaining poise in an instant. “I want to see the very best for our grand kingdom and all its people. And to do that, if there’s a way any one of us might go about helpin’ our prince fight back the rabble, it’s our duty to offer assistance, is it not?” He brings a hand up to his chin. Eyes narrow, sober. “I’m offerin’ you an invitation, Your Highness: come to the manor where I do my business at and examine the pocket watch all for the low, low price of free. No pressure whatsoever to make a decision then and there. And if it strikes your fancy later, bring your own appraiser in and we can talk about all the financials.” He wears that smile again on his face. “If it’s not to your likin’ after all, then my payment is merely the satisfaction of tryin’ to help the good cause.”
Gems and gold flash in the sunlight—so bright and scintillating, it blinds Ryunosuke.
Ryunosuke purses his lips and nods. “Thank you for such a kind offer, Mr. McGilded.”
“Well, I’m sure you’re quite the busy young man,” McGilded says, grinding his cane into the marbled floor, “and I don’t mean to rush you, but I have a lot of business to attend to, so I can’t be havin’ the timepiece out for display for much too long. I’d appreciate it if you’d come along by tomorrow for a look-see.” He fishes out a card from his pocket and hands it to Ryunosuke. “And, Your Highness”—his voice dips, hushed—“your bodyguard there is free to come along, but please not the whole entourage. This cost me quite a pretty rupee and it’s still a very confidential artifact, as I’m sure you already know. I implore you to maintain some discretion about the whole affair.” He laughs into his fist. “I’d rather not be fendin’ off any more miscreants lookin’ to burgle than I already have to!” He throws his head back and laughs, clapping his hands together wildly as if sharing some inside joke with a friend.
“Erm, yes, of course,” Ryunosuke manages out. “I will consider it. Th-Thank you again, Mr. McGilded.” He shifts the card nervously between his fingers.
With a bow and the utterance of thanks, McGilded exits the Throne Room. Ryunosuke stares at the address inscribed on the card, stomach churning.
“What do you think?” Ryunosuke folds his arms atop the parapet. The look in his eyes is far off, distracted—engrossed in the thoughts swirling in his mind like the quicksand sinkholes of the Gerudo Desert. “It’s incredible that the Temporal Timepiece fell into the hands of Mr. McGilded after the Royal Archivists haven’t had a single lead on its whereabouts for years, as I understand it.” He drums a finger on the stone railing. “No matter how exclusive this club he’s in, I would figure the curators would have access into those underground markets… Even I’m aware that it’s through one of those auctions that they procured that new Dominion Rod they’re preserving.”
Kazuma makes a thoughtful noise as he crosses his arms. “I guess that’s just part of the appeal of it all: nobody truly knows how far-reaching these dealing networks are…” He pauses, brow pinched as he stares across the sweeping landscape. “I’m not sure about it all. What do you know about this McGilded man? Does he seem credible? I’ve only heard as much as the newspapers report on him: about his vast donations to Castle Town.”
“I don’t know much,” Ryunosuke sighs out, running his hand through his hair. “As you said, he’s provided the funding for a fair number of the public projects around the town. The people that frequent the park and the public library of course hold him in high regard, but many around the castle and the nobility seem to view him quite favorably too. Father’s worked with him personally on numerous projects, so he must have been properly vetted already…” He cups his chin with his hand as he absentmindedly taps his finger to his cheek. “I’ve heard nothing about him being unsavory, but if there were some rumors out there, I would think you’d have heard about it before me…”
A scathing look of irritation is shot Ryunosuke’s way and he’s melted to his spot.
“Are you implying I read those tasteless gossip rags like The Rumor Mill?” There’s a heat to Kazuma’s voice as he rests his hands upon his sword, leaning back.
Ryunosuke shakes his hands out in front of himself, trying to backpedal. “I-I didn’t—”
“Honestly, Your Highness, you really should read the legitimate newspapers like The Castle Town Chronicle once in a while. It’s good to hear the perspectives of everyday folk. And their opinion columns don’t hold back like some of the other newspaper publications.”
“Ugh,” Ryunosuke grits out. For as much as he hates the distance between him and those he interacts with, the last thing he wants to know are the brutally honest, no-holds-barred criticisms of how he’s failing his kingdom penned in those papers. And the material written is always so dry, he can’t keep his attention focused even when he’s tried.
Another sigh from Kazuma, weary. “Anyway, I’m not aware of any complaints regarding Mr. McGilded… But is praise really the best indicator of someone’s character?” He tips his chin into his fist, eyes narrowing in contemplation. “If he’s that much of a vital financier, I doubt many would openly disparage someone like that. He’d be much too valuable of an ally to risk it, maybe even for the independent journalists at The Castle Town Chronicle…”
Ryunosuke shrugs. “I suppose, but those are all the facts we have to go off of. All evidence points to him just being truly generous. I guess we should be grateful for the many contributions he’s bestowed on us. I see no reason why he’d lie about something like this.”
“Hm,” Kazuma hums. His eyes lift, returning to Ryunosuke. “…Yet you still have doubts?”
Ryunosuke slumps forward, gritting his teeth. “Well, it’s an ancient artifact. W-What if…” He gulps. His eyes begin to dart wildly as the words fall frantically out of his mouth. “What if it’s c-cursed and was buried in order to c-contain it? And, and it wasn’t meant to be d-dug up at all? And that’s why no one has had any idea where it’s been this entire time!” Kazuma shoots him another exasperated look; Ryunosuke’s flood of words is blocked by Kazuma’s dam of judgment. Ryunosuke sucks in a deep breath to recenter. It only does so much.
“I-I don’t know,” Ryunosuke continues, scratching the back of his head. “I’m probably just overthinking it all…” His eyes wander back down past the parapet, across the roll of browning hills and sienna foliage. “Of course it’s my duty to seek out all avenues regarding the sealing powers and I’m truly excited for this potential lead but…” He runs his thumb across his arm guard. His voice grows quiet, despondent: “I guess I just can’t shake the feeling that I’ll make a mess of it all again—that it’ll end in disappointment, even if it’s the real deal. I want to believe in him and the authenticity of his offer. I just…” He draws in a shaky breath. “…Don’t know if I can believe in myself to make it all work out.”
Kazuma lets out a sigh, crossing his arms. “Ultimately, I think you have to trust your instincts on the matter.” A pause. “And not reject opportunities purely out of fear of failure before you’ve given it a chance. You don’t give yourself nearly enough credit, Your Highness.”
Ryunosuke looks over to Kazuma, only to see nothing but a certain admiration swirling there in his dark eyes—only confidence that he could finally succeed. He doesn’t quite understand the reason for it all. “Yes, thank you,” he mumbles as he rips away his gaze, unsteady. “There’d be no harm having a look though, surely? He said I could examine it freely, after all?”
“Yes,” Kazuma affirms with a facetious grin, pulling Karuma out of her holster, “and I’ll be there to stop him if he tries to strong-arm you into buying it.” Ryunosuke laughs. “Besides”—Kazuma secures his sword back on his hip—“it’s not so much the item itself that’s important in this situation, more of the effect of it…” He rests his hands on his hips, both stance and smile wide. “Hold it and see if anything resonates within you. You can worry about calling in one of the Royal Archivists’ appraisers to verify its authenticity later.”
Reassurance melts the icy fangs of doubt within him and he can’t help the smile that forms on his face. “You’re right. Thank you, Champion Kazuma.”
Tucked into a deeply remote area of West Castle Town is but one of the many estates owned by Magnus McGilded. Dense lines of trees border a stretch of cobbled road, all leading to the opulent manor house sat atop the hillside. The building’s outside façade is as commanding as its owner: the lines of its architecture sharp and striking, with gold trimmings strewn throughout its exterior. It’s a hollowed out fortress of a location—the trees encircling the estate a covert shroud protecting from public intrusion.
“We—haah,” Ryunosuke wheezes, doubled over, “we made it, finally, haah.” Climbing the grand outdoor staircase was an arduous challenge in its own right for Ryunosuke. If it winded Kazuma, he doesn’t show any outward signs of fatigue. He merely examines the scene in front of him.
“We’re not quite out of the woods just yet,” Kazuma drawls out, irked.
“Wha—What do you mean?” Ryunosuke gasps lungfuls of crisp air, each breath burning and raw. He braves a look up and his mouth falls open even wider at the sight: a garden with a tall hedge maze barricading the manor’s entrance. It’s flanked by buildings at its sides; there’s no way of circumventing it. “You’re… Haah… You’re kidding…” He begins to second-guess if the Temporal Timepiece is really worth the effort.
“Come on, let’s go. Truly, your endurance leaves much to be desired. It’s something we’ll have to work on.” Kazuma loops his arms under Ryunosuke’s own when the bones in his body turn gelatinous, pulling him up like taffy and stabilizing his feet back on the ground. Some mix of a whimper and a groan escapes from Ryunosuke as he’s forcibly ushered into the maze.
Through the winding labyrinth of shrubbery they trudge—impatience and frustration nipping at their heels. The fortress of trees, the sprawling staircase, the meandering maze: all of it a protection against only the most dogged to enter.
It’s only when Ryunosuke sees the jungle of bushes part in front of him, revealing an unobstructed path of a door to a manor house, that he finally can thank the goddess for the respite. He tips his head back, closes his eyes, and walks through the archway of shrubs.
And then a force slams into his side and when he opens his eyes, the world careens around him.
“Your,” a voice yelps, high-pitched and wild at first, then descending in tone, “Your Highness!” Another voice is echoed in that muddle: Kazuma’s.
Something steadies him before he falls fully to the ground—Kazuma again, no doubt—and he’s pulled back onto his feet. It’s only for a split second when the vertigo begins to dissipate, but he sees the striking face of the figure that ran into him: a young Sheikah man with wide, bright eyes and soft facial features. The man in question then hurriedly drops to a knee, face obscured in deference. He wears obsidian traditional Sheikah attire with a pink hem design. His long hair is secured back into a low bun, shorter bangs falling forward.
“P-Please forgive me! I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going—I’m terribly sorry. I do hope you’re okay, Your Highness.” His head stays low.
“It’s, it’s quite alright,” Ryunosuke manages when the world no longer feels in tilt, “Mr…?” Kazuma stands close to his side, tense.
The man freezes up. “I’m afraid I’m not one for all the formalities, myself. Please, do refer to me as Ryutaro.”
That name… What an odd coincidence. “Well, pleased to make your acquaintance, Ryutaro.” He rubs at the side of his torso. I only wish we had met under less painful circumstances… Ryutaro fervently apologizes again, head sinking lower to the ground.
“May I ask what brings you here, Ryutaro?” Kazuma inquires, breaking his usual stony silence around others. His hand is wrapped around the hilt of Karuma. “This is private property—well off the beaten track. There’s been reports of a string of attempted burglaries at this manor. I do hope you’re not embroiled in all this.”
“N-No, not at all…” A strained pause, then: “…Sir. You see, I was watching a friend of mine’s daughter. We were playing past that line of trees and she ran right up the backside of this hill. I’m merely trying to locate her. I do apologize for the intrusion and the trouble I’ve caused.” The response seems satisfactory enough for Kazuma; he loosens his grip on his blade, but his vigilance remains keen.
“Best of luck in your search,” Ryunosuke offers with a smile, though Ryutaro continues to firmly regard the ground. With that, they take their leave through the manor house’s ostentatious double doors, leaving the man behind to the whims of a labyrinth of greenery and gilded filaments.
The inside of the mansion is a grand display of both extravagance and arrogance: intricate, swirling designs of gold curl along the lavish deep purples of the walls; a decadent crystal chandelier hangs suspended above a grand central staircase, haloing the room in soft light; numerous statues and busts of McGilded fill the foyer. A wall directly next to the entrance is covered in framed newspaper clippings and artwork of his achievements and donations to the town. For the humble disposition he tries to project, it’s obvious he has no interest in letting visitors forget his status for a second.
It’s not as large and luxurious as the inside of Hyrule Castle, but it still leaves Ryunosuke in awe as his eyes dart from one curio to the next—things that normally would be centerpieces in any other house just one of many decorations here. The butler greets them and quickly fetches McGilded. It’s a short wait for the man to arrive, exchange pleasantries, and lead them through the intricate maze-like structure of the mansion towards their destination.
Though lighting is plentiful along the way, the manner in which the light flickers and plays with the shadows against the long corridors and dark violet walls make the trek feel almost oppressive—daunting and mystifying, like a thick fog muddying Ryunosuke’s thoughts and senses. It’s a stretch into infinity as they traverse through winding hallways and branching paths that all look the same to his eyes. The thought of getting lost in this expanse drags a chill down his spine, but McGilded seems confident in his sense of direction. They don’t speak; the only sounds that echo through the warren of corridors are their footsteps and the thump of the ferrule of McGilded’s cane, muffled by the rugs beneath their feet.
McGilded finally turns a corner into an ancillary room of some sort. The space is virtually empty, save for a cushioned chair pulled up to a small table holding a tea set and platter of cookies, a single door at the back, and a well-built masked man diligently posted outside that door. A guard, no question.
“I do apologize for the tramp, Your Highness” McGilded says as Ryunosuke’s catches his breath, “but these here invaluable items require the utmost protection. Can’t have it easy for any ol’ bandit to trapeze in easily, now can we?” He offers an affable smile, then motions for the guard to unlock the door. “Right this way,” he says, sweeping his hand out to the compact room adjoining it.
It’s a little slip of darkness illuminated by a single chandelier spotlight; Ryunosuke can make out a pedestal with a case atop it in the center of the room, bathed in shining light. This is it. All the lead up, all the walking and discomfort, was all for this moment of truth. He steadies himself, then crosses the threshold.
“Ah, ah,” he hears McGilded tut from behind him. He turns around to see McGilded standing between him and Kazuma, tapping the handle of his cane to Kazuma’s shoulder. “Sorry, fella, you’re gonna have to stay out here. Precautions, of course.” Kazuma crosses his arms, shoulders arched high, with a scowl on his face and a protest straining against his lips. “This is a safe room, you see. Not a window or other door in sight”—he flips the cane around, sweeping it out towards the inner room—“only this one exit here, and just us in this room. Absolutely nothin’ to worry about.”
Kazuma’s eyes shift to Ryunosuke; concern mars his expression—the creases in his brow deep-set. Ryunosuke purses his lips and returns a small nod. “It’s alright,” Ryunosuke says, quiet but resolute. “I’ll be fine.”
It’s something he’ll have to do alone. He’s ready to face it.
“Sit down and relax,” McGilded says when the tension in Kazuma’s stature loosens only an infinitesimal amount, and he backs away. “Please, help yourself to the tea and banana cookies on the table there. Freshly baked today, they are.”
Ryunosuke exchanges a final look with Kazuma before he’s obscured by a metal door sealed shut—left alone in that small room with only McGilded and the artifact that could change everything for him.
That is, until he sees a figure shuffling out of the shadows in the corner: patched clothes, green cap, red checkered scarf, strawberry blonde curls. Recognition comes with a start.
“Gina, what, what are you doing here?!” Ryunosuke sputters. Gina doesn’t answer him, merely tipping her cap down over her eyes and shadowing her face under the harsh overhead light. She stands stiff, unmoving from her place at the side of the pedestal. Ryunosuke spins towards McGilded, who circles around him, closer towards the pedestal.
“Come now, no need for shoutin’, Your Highness.” McGilded locks his hands behind his back and grins. “She’s needed for the demonstration, you see. You’re both already acquainted, I take it?”
Anxiety spikes in Ryunosuke. He shoots a nervous glare at McGilded. “Wh-What exactly is going on here? You—You just said it’d be only us in this room!”
McGilded’s smile drops, replaced with an agitated glower. “And I said I need her for the demonstration, you hear? Let’s not be makin’ this harder than it has to be, eh?” McGilded waves his cane in his hand with each emphasis of his words. Ryunosuke clenches his fists, eyes swimming between the two of them, and gives a tense nod. McGilded relaxes. “Aye, good. You see, the Temporal Timepiece has a special attribute to it I discovered myself.” He brings a hand up to his jaw and scratches his chin. “Power to amplify magical ability, it can. Even for those who have no apparent magic capabilities.”
Ryunosuke’s eyes widen. It’s a grand declaration—something that instantly sparks suspicion. But if it is true, if something that powerful could bestow a capacity for magic to anyone, could it potentially draw out whatever powers were dormant within him, too?
“Lass, tell me, have you ever used magic before?” McGilded asks.
“Nah, not a bit,” Gina replies curtly, still refusing to look up.
“So you see, Your Highness, the little lady wasn’t blessed with Goddess Hylia’s favor.” McGilded rests his hand on the case on top of the pedestal. It’s a protective shell of metal—fully sealed except for a small opening in front that’s only big enough for someone’s arm to reach in to handle a ware without being able to remove it. “Now, what if she were to be exposed to the Temporal Timepiece? Come”—he motions out to Ryunosuke—“take a look-see at it yourself before we begin the demonstration.”
Ryunosuke lowers himself to be eye level with the hole in the case. A silver pocket watch sits within a satin holder inside. Ryunosuke isn’t sure what he should be examining, but he can confirm the veracity of it truly being a watch at the very least: he hears the ticking loud and clear. Either way, it looks to be an impressive piece of machinery.
“‘Tis the real deal, that it is,” McGilded encourages once Ryunosuke steps away with a satisfied nod. “Now, lass,” he says with a jovial lilt, “go ahead and show our fine prince just what it can do.”
Gina shuffles over, her head still hanging low and her mouth flattened into a deep pout. She sticks her hand into the opening and Ryunosuke holds his breath.
The seconds pass like hours—waiting, waiting, breathlessly. After a moment spanning a lifetime, Gina groans and her legs buckle slightly under her weight.
Gray smoke fills the room. Ryunosuke hacks a cough as the billowing plumes obscure the scene before him, rendering him disoriented inside a thick sea of fumes. He can just make out the hazy silhouettes of Gina and McGilded in front of him. Fear knots his stomach as fast as the smoke’s entrance.
“Not a cause for alarm, Your Highness,” McGilded calls out, voice barely above the pounding of Ryunosuke’s heart in his ears, “it’s all part of the process.”
With that, a bright, colorful light cuts through the dull smoke—the colors bouncing off the little particles in the air in a chaotic frenzy in front of him. It almost looks like it’s dancing.
Pounding claps followed by a ring of laughter jolt Ryunosuke upright. “And there it is!” McGilded exclaims.
The smoke clears enough for Ryunosuke to see it: Gina flipping her rupee between her fingers as multicolored lights flit along with each movement. Green, blue, purple, red—the rupee glows bright even under the chandelier’s spotlight. Evocation magic. Out of thin air. Gina tosses the rupee and snatches it out of the air—snuffing out the show of lights. Ryunosuke’s jaw goes slack, eyes wide.
“Aye,” McGilded continues, still beaming, “for someone without magical ability, it may be just a fun party trick like this, but for you, Your Highness?” He motions to Ryunosuke with his ringed hand. “With your latent powers inside you, imagine what this here pocket watch could do! Could very well be the key to unlockin’ that blockage of yours, it just might.” His lips curl into a keen smirk.
“... It’s, it’s amazing, truly,” Ryunosuke says, wonderment steeped in the words. “It’s almost hard to believe.” He lets out a laugh—nervous.
Something burrows into him. Needling, scratchy. Like the proboscis of a mosquito piercing through skin.
“I, I mean,” he continues, “all the books always say that you either have the proclivity to magic or you don’t. Of, of course, you may not know you’re able to use magic and don’t discover that until later, but it’s supposed to be impossible to just be able to manipulate magical energy if you’re not already attuned to it…”
He knows this to be true. It’s one of the lessons that stuck out to him during his studies with Elder Impa. With all his association with destinies, the idea of prescribed roles and the limitations between them held salient.
“Is it not possible Gina just didn’t know she had magical ability?” he asks.
The feeling tunnels deeper into him. Itchy, itchy.
McGilded grinds his cane to the floor, irritated. “Lass, tell me, have you ever seen a Korok before?”
“Nah,” Gina says quietly. Her hand’s back to tugging down on the brim of her hat.
McGilded makes a motion with his hand: See? Isn’t that proof enough?
Ryunosuke clutches his hand within his other; he rubs his thumb along his arm guard. Troubled, he furrows his brow. “But Koroks are notoriously elusive. Most people never see a Korok in their lifetime, magic user or not.”
“Aye, that is right,” McGilded says. “To test the Temporal Timepiece’s capabilities, I needed to be sure that I had someone with no magical capacity. Exactly why I brought this here girl with me to a Korok I found. And she saw nothin’ there—just plain ol’ air in front of her. Isn’t that right?”
Gina peeks up and is met with a steeled look from McGilded. Her eyes are cold. “Yeah. That’s right. Thought he was pullin’ my leg the ‘ole time.”
“And there you have it. I’m not meanin’ any disrespect, Your Highness, but what’s written in those books isn’t all reality,” McGilded says. “Every day, we see new things that were once thought impossible, only to be surprised with how very real they turn out to be. Our fair Goddess Hylia works in quite the queer ways sometimes, isn’t that right?” He smiles: one mouth and two eyes narrowed in knowing.
Maybe he was right. Despite it all, Ryunosuke saw it. He saw Gina use magic right in front of his own eyes. He squashes that doubt inside him, the remains clinging viscous to his fingers.
“Yes,” Ryunosuke murmurs. “I suppose that’s true.”
“Now then, how about givin’ it a go, yourself? I have a feelin’ it’ll assuage your worries right up.” McGilded flashes another closed-eyes smile as he sweeps his hand out towards the pedestal.
“I—Does it hurt to touch?” Ryunosuke’s sight jerks towards Gina. She shakes her head before turning herself away.
“Not at all, Your Highness,” McGilded says, folding his arms behind his back. “Though, it may make you a wee bit tired—drawin’ out long-buried magic might just do that to you, after all!”
Ryunosuke stares at that opening, at that unassuming pocket watch nestled inside. He’s standing on the threshold of something that could be monumental—something that could change everything. If prayer couldn’t act as a spark, maybe this can. All he needs to do is cross that line.
He slaps his cheeks and marches forward. He reaches his arm through the aperture—grasping out for opportunity, for hope. Static prickles his fingers when he gets close. He can’t stop his limbs from shaking.
Quake. A tremor wracks down his body when his fingers graze its cold surface. It feels heavy—a massive weight pressing down on his chest, emptying his lungs in an instant. His legs quiver and buckle below him; he’s a rock succumbing to gravity. A hiss escapes him.
Fear boils within his stomach. Heat, sweat. A buzzing in his ears. He can’t let go—he doesn’t want to let go.
McGilded’s voice is a muddled whirr next to him: “I can assure you this is all normal the first time, Your Highness. The more powerful the magic, the more intense the amplification, you see. It proves you have quite the power inside you!”
He’s never felt this before—this reaction. It feels intoxicating and leaden, addictive and acidic. Years of prayer, years of silence, years of torture—all for nothing. A single touch to silver metal has provided all the optimism he’s craved for so long. He can feel the magic, can feel the presence of divinity reaching out to him, and it burns, it burns, it burns—
He collapses to the ground. Warm, drenched cheeks pressed to cool wood. His hand tingles and stings, still trembling. He craves sleep.
Hands grasp his arm and his back, propping him up to sit. Jeweled rings dig into his skin through the fabric. “Quite the spectacle, wasn’t it?” McGilded muses beside him. “Much more of a reaction than I’d ever seen before, that was. Mighty apologies that I couldn’t properly warn ya.”
Ragged breaths. As the air escapes him, so does that pull—that authoritative power. In its absence, emptiness is replaced with a lighter vigor. Slowly, Ryunosuke feels his energy being restored, replenishing the depleted stores within him. Things start to regain their shapes.
“That,” Ryunosuke breathes out, “that was incredible. I felt it—I felt the power for the first time, I—”
He holds up a hand and tries to focus on it. Nothing happens. Again, he focuses, and again he’s met with nothing. Silence echoes within him yet again—an intimate solitude he knows all too well.
He looks towards McGilded, pleading. “I don’t think I held it for long enough.” The words spill out frenzied, desperate. “I—please let me do it again. I know I felt it before, but I can’t seem to sense it anymore. If I can just—”
A hand on his shoulder stills him.
“Now, now, Your Highness.” McGilded gives him a shrewd look—his eyes cutting and smile even sharper. “Normally, I would say you’d have to make an offer at this point, but as an upstandin’ member of Hyrule society and seein’ just how important this is to you, I’d like to do my best to help where I can. ‘Tis a gentleman’s duty, so it is.” He gives a reassuring pat. “So, I’ll extend my offer to you again. Rest up and come back tomorrow, and we’ll give it another go. How does that sound?”
There’s a pestilent part of him that feels disappointed at having to wait, but another chance at tasting that feeling again excites him, thrills him to his core. Electric. “Y-Yes! Thank you—Thank—” He wobbles when he gets to his feet, grasping the top of the pedestal to balance himself.
McGilded smirks again with a gritty laugh before unlocking the door. As soon as it’s cracked open, Gina slips out without a word; she was so still, for a moment Ryunosuke forgot she was even there at all.
He’s met with Kazuma’s wide eyes across that doorway, tense with worry. “Prince Ryunosuke!” he calls out as Ryunosuke stumbles closer, his legs still unsteady beneath him. He catches him around the waist as Ryunosuke leans against him to catch his breath. “Are you alright?! What happened?!” Panicking eyes move from Ryunosuke to McGilded and back, mentally calculating the threat present.
“It worked,” Ryunosuke manages through a toothy smile, breathless and teary-eyed. “I felt the power!”
“What’s wrong?” Ryunosuke asks as they exit the manor and begin their descent through the labyrinthine estate grounds yet again. He searches Kazuma’s tensed face—down the tight draw of his eyebrows, the rigid press of his lips.
Sunlight had begun to retreat when they stepped out of that garish house—inky darkness bleeding into the surroundings and overtaking the fleeting light. Only the flicker of lanterns provide a way to see around the grounds; they’re little pockets of illumination, struggling to replace the moonlight glow obscured by the thick cloud cover above.
Kazuma startles, suddenly drawn back to the present. “Oh, ah, sorry, I just…” he mutters as he shakes his head. “The masked guard. They had a specialized weapon with them. I’ve been racking my brain to remember where I’ve seen it before, but it continues to elude me. And they refused to answer any questions.” He drags a hand down his face. “But never mind about that; there’s more pressing matters. Most importantly: how did it go in there?”
Ryunosuke gives him a final look of sympathy before his expression melts into unfettered delight. “It, it was extraordinary!” He feels rejuvenated; the energy whisked away from him earlier feels replaced anew with something even stronger. He’s finding hope to be a truly potent medicine. “I mean, I had no doubt that the magic would be strong, but nothing could have ever prepared me for the sheer power of it all. It was so intense, I was a bit terrified of it all at times, honestly.”
Kazuma gives him a look out of the corner of his eye—pensive, concerned. “And you said you felt her, the goddess?”
“Yes!” Ryunosuke smiles—as bright as the sun, even in the low light. “Well, I think so anyway. I didn’t see a person particularly, but I felt her trying to contact me, like an arm outstretched. We didn’t connect—I got overwhelmed in the end, but Mr. McGilded said that’s a common thing to happen when activating your powers so abruptly the first time. But I know the magic’s there! After all this time, I finally felt something!”
Kazuma pulls in a deep breath before flashing a grin. “Well, I’m sure glad to hear it. I must say, you really know how to give me a scare… You were quite the grim sight coming out of that room”—he cups a hand to his chin—“but I suppose it’s to be expected with the severity of that magic. If tomorrow you can connect with it further, we’ll be staring down something truly monumental.” He pumps a fist, leaning forward. “I have absolute faith that you’ll be able to do it, Your Highness.”
The heat radiating off Ryunosuke’s cheeks cuts through the biting chill of the night air breeze, and he fixes his gaze to the ground below, flustered. The whole ordeal is still making him jittery, on edge. He chews on his lower lip before murmuring, “Um, Champion Kazuma?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you. If you hadn’t encouraged me earlier to take this chance, I don’t know if I would’ve pursued it. So, thank you, truly.”
A huff next to him. “Perhaps. But, ultimately, it was you who trusted your instincts and it was thanks to your efforts that you were able to attune to the timepiece. Not me.” He nudges Ryunosuke with his elbow, drawing a small laugh from him. “As I said before, you don’t give yourself enough credit.”
Ryunosuke lets out a soft hum. There’s a maelstrom inside him: of excitement, of anxiety, of that churning hopefulness he’s yearned for for so long. Tomorrow can’t come soon enough.
He stares up at the night sky—the glimmer of the moon consumed by thick, gray clouds rolling in, heavy and languid with saturation. Shadow envelopes the garden. Rain is to arrive soon. Doesn’t the goddess know how jubilant this moment is?