The Descent into Darkness

A few days had passed since Zelda, Link, and Sparrow had been confined to the sick room. The milk disease had taken hold, and its effects were growing more pronounced by the hour. Sparrow, once a bright and energetic young Kokiri, now lay in bed, his small body wracked with fever. His eyes were sunken, his skin hot to the touch, and a persistent cough racked his chest. Zelda, too, was suffering. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had a full night's sleep, and her breathing had become labored and irregular. She'd find herself gasping for air, her lungs feeling like they were constricting. Her mind was foggy, and she couldn't recall even the simplest things. She'd try to recall the names of her advisors, but they'd slip her mind. She'd forget what she'd eaten for breakfast, or what day it was. Link's condition was the most alarming of all. He was burning with fever, his body trembling with chills. His eyes were glassy and unfocused, and he'd often mumble incoherently. Impa and the other servants did their best to care for him, but it was clear that he was slipping away. Impa came to Zelda's bedside, concern etched on her face. "Your Majesty, we need to get you all to a place where we can properly care for you," she said. "The sick room is not equipped to handle cases like this." Zelda nodded, trying to focus. "The Temple of Time," she whispered. "Take us there." Impa nodded, and soon the three of them were being carried to the Temple of Time, a sacred place where the ancient priests of Hyrule had once performed their rituals. The temple's high ceilings and large windows let in a flood of natural light, and the air was thick with the scent of incense. As they lay on the temple's stone floor, Zelda felt a sense of peace wash over her. She knew that they were running out of time, but she also knew that they had to hold on. For Hyrule's sake, for their own sake, they had to fight this disease. But as she looked at Link and Sparrow, she couldn't shake the feeling that they were losing. Link's fever was raging out of control, and Sparrow's cough was growing more violent by the minute. Zelda's own breathing was growing shallower, and she felt like she was slipping away. The milk disease was a cruel and merciless enemy, and it seemed to be determined to claim them all. But Zelda refused to give up. She reached out, her hand finding Link's. "We'll get through this," she whispered, her voice barely audible. Link's eyes fluttered open, and he looked at her. For a moment, he seemed to recognize her, and a glimmer of hope flickered in his eyes. But it was short-lived. His eyes clouded over, and he began to mumble incoherently once more. Zelda's heart sank, but she refused to give up. She held on to Link's hand, her grip tightening as she willed him to stay with her. As the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the temple, Zelda closed her eyes, her chest rising and falling with her labored breathing. She knew that they were running out of time, but she also knew that they had to keep fighting. For Hyrule, for themselves, they had to hold on to hope.