First-Person – Protagonist's POV – Tone: Mysterious, slightly romantic, rising unease
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I don't remember walking all the way here.
One moment, I was standing with Purah on the edge of a floating island, her eyes sparkling like she'd discovered a new universe and wanted to dissect it. The next, I was inside her lab — surrounded by humming Sheikah tech, glowing panels, and the soft scent of ink, hot circuitry, and something vaguely floral.
Lavender? No… Lilac.
Weird what you notice when you're being scanned like a divine artifact.
Purah moved around me in brisk, precise motions, muttering to herself, the Purah Pad in one hand and a stylus in the other. Her eyes never left my arm — the Tear embedded in the skin, just above the wrist.
The Tear of Balance shimmered faintly, casting soft ripples of gold and white across the room.
"Still stable," she whispered, half to herself. "But the oscillations are non-linear. It's resisting classification. Like it's alive."
"Should I be worried?" I asked, trying to keep my tone light.
She didn't answer right away.
Then, almost too softly, she said, "Only if you try to leave me."
That was a joke, right?
Right?
---
I watched her more closely.
Her lips were tight, but her expression was… eager. Intense. Like she was studying me, not just for knowledge — but for proof of something. Like I was the missing piece of a story she'd been writing in secret for years.
The lab was strangely silent for how full it was. Ancient Zonai relics buzzed faintly. Sheikah wires flickered with stored energy. I recognized some of it — modified towers, restored Guardians, even a shrunken Divine Beast core sealed behind glass.
"You've been busy," I said, trying to steer the conversation away from whatever obsession was simmering in her eyes.
"I never stopped," she murmured. "While others prayed or mourned or followed orders, I built. Because I knew something would come."
She stepped closer — slowly, carefully — like I was a wild animal that might bolt.
"You," she said, voice hushed, "are the proof that the cycle is breaking."
I frowned. "What cycle?"
"Reincarnation. Destiny. Link. Zelda. Demise. The loop."
I didn't answer.
Because the thing was… she wasn't wrong.
I knew from the moment I opened my eyes on that sky island — this world ran on scripts. Myth turned into law. Hero fights evil. Princess seals darkness. Again and again.
Except this time, the code had a glitch.
Me.
---
She walked around me, brushing a hand down my back, then touching the Tear again. It glowed brighter under her fingertips.
I tensed.
She noticed.
"You don't like being touched," she said, almost amused. "Interesting. You don't mind danger, but you flinch at care. Tell me—what did she do to you?"
"Who?"
She smiled. Didn't answer.
Instead, she held up a data tablet. The display showed layered charts — emotional resonance, time-energy readings, even neural echoes.
"There's a memory field around you," she said. "Dense, but frayed. You remember your past life clearly, yes?"
I nodded. "All of it."
She looked far too pleased with that.
"It means your reincarnation was irregular. Probably artificial. Maybe even… intentional."
That made my skin crawl.
"By who?"
"Take your pick," she said. "The Goddess? The Zonai? The curse itself?"
She paused.
"…or maybe you called yourself back."
---
Before I could ask more, the Tear pulsed — hard.
A wave of pressure hit my chest. My knees buckled slightly.
Purah was beside me in an instant, gripping my arm. Her hand was cold, tight.
"Zelda's aura," she whispered. "She's nearby."
My heart skipped.
I didn't even have time to process what that meant before the door opened — with no knock.
And there she was.
Zelda.
Dressed simply. No crown. No guards. Just her and that look in her eyes.
Hope. Longing. Hunger.
"Found you," she said softly.
Purah tensed beside me.
Zelda's eyes met hers.
Silence thickened the air like fog.
And just like that, I knew — without proof, without logic — that they were fighting over me, even if no one had drawn a weapon yet.
Not for power.
Not for conquest.
But for ownership.
---
I took a slow step back, caught between two brilliant, beautiful minds — both of them dangerous, both of them staring at me like I was the answer to every prayer and every nightmare.
And worse?
Some part of me liked it.
The way they saw me.
The way I mattered.
But I also felt the weight behind it.
The possessiveness. The obsession.
I wasn't just a visitor anymore.
I was becoming the center.
And I wasn't sure that was a good thing.