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High Priestess of the Temple of Time

The world was on fire. From the Great Plateau, it was easy to see how a once lush kingdom blooming with vibrant cities had been replaced with dark smoke cutting through scarlet light. Scuttling shadows of the guardians built to protect them moved through the fields of ash with only moving legs and glowing blue eyes visible from the eternal fog. 

Those who dwelled on the Great Plateau were lucky, they had a perfect view of the rising calamity and enough time for a nearly complete evacuation. The alarm bells of the Temple of Time shook the ground nearly as much as the beast rising from the ground had. The rumbling only increased as frantic footsteps pounded against the stone, getting louder and louder as the masses of casual travelers and religious pilgrims became more and more frantic in their escape. 

Megrani tried her best to keep the crowds from stampeding, from clogging the single gateway out of the sacred plateau. She couldn’t blame them for their fear, the clear image of the castle in smoldering ruins was impossible to miss in the distance, even among the clouds of ash consuming the kingdom. 

Her hold on her cane was shaky, she tried to grip the gray orb fixed to its end but it barely was enough to keep her balance. Thankfully it was enough to anchor her to the ground when she darted forward to keep a child from stumbling from the uneven cobblestone and becoming a victim of the stampede. As soon as the little boy recovered his balance, he was whisked away by the rush of the crowd. The priestess only hoped that he would make it to Fort Hateno safely. 

Knights from Kolomo Garrison would meet the refugees at the east post, their only job was to protect the evacuation of the civilians from the populous trading center resting at the foot of the plateau and guide them to the protection of the mountainous Necluda. Grani knew that their mission was a long shot, but it was the safest option.   

“Miss Zaku!” one of her acolytes rushed to her side as the masses lost their density. 

“Go!” Grani commanded, “The temple must not lay empty, I have to remain here,” The woman said definitively, pushing her fellow disciple towards the gateway. They didn’t have time for arguments, the guardians were approaching. 

The sky was dark by the time the plateau was nearly abandoned. The sounds of battle were distant, as the High Priestess of the Temple of Time remained on the empty streets of her home. It had never been so quiet. She had grown used to echoing choirs and the chatter of a thousand voices. She was used to birdsong and the steady sounds of the temple bell that kept track of the time. But it was silent now, save for faraway screams and blasts from ancient lasers. 

It would be then that the first guardian stalker appeared, entering through the empty gateway and setting its sights on the only living thing that stood in the way of the great hatred and the blessed monument it had gone out of its way to destroy. 

Megrani lifted her cane off of the ground and flipped it, keeping her hands on the lower half. Ancient light bled through her veil, leaving the silhouette of her face basked in darkness. 

The Temple would be protected. 

***

It had been three days since the end of the world when Magrani caught sight of people again. By then, the plateau had lured in a handful of guardians, she had been too late to save the abbey from them, but their parts were scattered across the sacred soil. Pathways had deteriorated and were scorched from the attacks, but Grani remained whole. 

She met a duo of her kin at the gateway, but her heart had sunk when she recognized what they were carrying. Who they were carrying. 

In place of his iconic blue tunic, the unconscious hero was covered in bandages, blood and dirt decorated his body, and his pants were severely burned. He looked so small, it made her heart clench violently.

The Sheikah warriors were there for a reason, a reason Megrani was well aware of. Without a word, she accompanied them to the shrine. At first, she refused to look at the boy’s condition. It had to be dire if they were coming here rather than a fairy fountain or even just a regular healer. 

Grani regularly worked with the deceased, she could tell that Link was still alive, if only barely hanging on. Though his skin was pale and his muscles were slack, he stubbornly clung to life. It was commendable, but death was unavoidable at this point. The only hope they had was that they would be able to bring him back in time. 

“Set him down, we’ll have to wait for the scientists to figure out how this place works, in the meantime, the plateau has been being targeted by the calamity, we have to keep the machines out of the holy island. If it finds out that we’re keeping the hero here, it will doom us all.” Grani said as they entered the shrine of resurrection. While the Sheikah Slate had opened it to them, it remained a dark tomb. 

The hylian champion was set on the ancient stone bed, and in the blink of an eye, the warriors had disappeared back into the shadows. Grani lifted her torch to examine the area, still avoiding the dying boy whose rasping breath echoed throughout the tiny chamber. 

A small pedestal with a hole in the shape of the sheikah slate glowed a dull orange, while Grani may not be an expert on ancient tech, she was able to get the hint. She set the tablet into its responding keyhole and in an instant, the shrine awoke. Weak orange light grew from the slate's pedestal onto the constellations on the walls as if it were a living thing, though the bed the hero rested on stayed dark and dry. 

She looked back at the boy hesitantly, the dread and terror of the last few days had already worn her so thin, she was surprised anything had any effect on her, but this did. One of the two people cursed to save them lay dying in front of her eyes. She knew it wasn’t just the knowledge that without him, that they were doomed if this chamber didn’t do its job, but something far more sentimental. 

Even though the chamber echoed with the hero's shallow rasping breath, Grani felt the need to feel his pulse. Now alone, she set her grand headpiece to the dirty ground, there was no more use for ceremony now. She didn’t care that the sacred fabric came in contact with cobwebs or the cold water that dripped from above. 

With the gentleness of an afternoon breeze, she slowly unwrapped the bandages covering from the very tips of his fingers to his elbow. They were filthy anyway, stained with blood and dirt and ash. 

She had only reached his wrist when for the first time since he had arrived, he moved. Just a flinch of his finger, the slightest resistance from the unconsciousness that had consumed him. Before she could pass it off as a fluke, his hand frantically gripped her own. Her head whipped up to see his wide blue eyes. He looked as though he wanted to sit up but physically couldn’t whether that be because of the pain or simply by how much his body had been damaged. 

“You’re okay,” She lied, trying to hold back the quivering in her voice, goddesses he looked so afraid. 

“Stay still, your fight isn’t over yet,” She urged, her grip on his hand tightened as she approached his face, her other hand instinctively reached out to cradle his face for a moment before resting under his neck as a buffer between his skin and the hard stone meant for someone far less lively than he currently was. 

“We need you to rest Link,” Megrani insisted, willing the tears in her eyes back into her skull, she was sure she’d have plenty of time to cry later. It wasn’t an easy task to ease the hero’s wheezing breaths, it was obvious that his injuries drastically impacted his lungs, perhaps even popped one. 

But finally, after several minutes, his hyperventilating slowed. It reached a more normal pace and kept slowing down. Each shallow breath having greater and greater gaps between them. Often stopping for several seconds before he inhaled again. 

“I’m sorry, but still have a job to do,” Grani whispered as Link’s grip on her hand weakened. She still refused to let go, even as his breathing stopped, and his hand went limp in hers. Even as his body deflated in her arms and his eyes lost all focus. His pulse had stopped, and yet she refused to let go. 

In the dim crypt, it was impossible to tell how much time had passed, but the body in her arms had grown noticeably cold by the time she was able to lay him down. After another lingering moment, she closed his eyes.

She stayed with him until the scientists arrived the next day, their typical eccentricities severely subdued by the apocalypse. Grani had only met them a few times but their loud personalities could be heard from miles away. They were quiet now. Their faces were grim as they tinkered with the stone altar carrying the hero they were tasked to revive. 

It took hours of constant focus before the bed flickered to life, ancient blue light oozed from the ceiling through the branches of the machine like blood through arteries into the heart, it pulsed like a heartbeat too. 

The light refracted through the liquid that filled the chamber through the overhang like rain falling from a cloud, though when a couple drops landed on her, it was mind-numbingly cold. The water had to have come from the river of death that lay just south of them. It was oddly fitting, she wondered if it was just a coincidence or if the connection was made with the shrine's purpose in mind. 

“How will we know if it’s working?” The priestess asked, hesitating to stand up and leave, even if that meant this would become her tomb as well as the heroes. 

“We won’t, but this place wouldn’t be called the ‘Shrine of Resurrection if it couldn’t raise the dead. It’s not even a foreign concept in our history for things like that to be done, though such sorcery is usually left to demon kings and witches.” Purah assured, seemingly trying to convince herself as well as the others. She clearly hated that she simply wasn’t given enough data to know anything for sure. 

After a few more moments, the luminous shower targeting the hero’s body stopped, immediately stilling, covering him from head to toe, leaving the illusion that he was just an image behind a sheet of glass. Like it were a transparent lid to an ancient coffin. 

The four pillars at the corners of the bed burst into flame, not typical orange flame, or the ancient blue flame that powered the technology around them, but the ghostly turquoise that swirled with flecks of green. Megrani had seen such an effect before. 

“It’s working.” 

***

The Calamity couldn’t be allowed to reach the plateau. Even as the scarlet skies retreated back to the castle, and the guardians started a directionless patrol, no longer advancing like an army upon the lands.

She closed off the only entrance to the plateau, blowing up the gateway and the road leading to it, until it was filled with water from the broken fountain and cemented by a dozen tons of rubble. The best way to keep the hero safe until he recovered would be to isolate them.  

Megrani knelt before her goddess, in the place where time condensed and stretched with no rhyme or reason, until the soft sound of footfalls against stone caught her attention. 

A smile grew on her face when she turned to look at who had finally woken up.

“Welcome to the Temple of Time.”