That night, Link slept soundly, his arms wrapped around Tetra.

He dreamt deeply, dreams he had experienced as long as he could remember. He dreamt of lush pastures and huge expanses of green. Of deserts, and trees, and children of the forests. It was only in the years after he met Tetra that he had realised the significance of these dreams, but they had all cut off at a certain point; He was waving goodbye to a golden-haired princess and her retainers, the lands safe at last. Tonight, however, this changed.

With his red-haired horse beneath him, and his hands gloved in gold, he rode to a dock. Something had called to him, had told him to travel to the sea and beyond. He left Epona with the trust that she could find her way back, and bought a small boat. The similarities to his experiences with the King of Red Lions disturbed him slightly, almost threatening to wake him, but he distracted himself with preparations.

He had left his equipment with Epona, all but his sword and shield. Then, sailing his boat, he made his way out to see.

He didn't know how long it took. The journey was unlike anything he had experienced, in dreams or awake. He couldn't take in all of it, but he knew that it culminated in exhaustion, and unconsciousness. When he awoke, he saw a woman attacked by Octoroks. Rising from his stupor, he set about them, cutting them down.

The woman needed aid, and so he walked with her to a friend of hers. Then, a flash of blinding blue light and the woman was changed, and the friend was changed, and then…

Link woke up, panting. It was dark in his and Tetra's room. A soft, blue light was pouring through the window, and he suddenly felt the bizarre motion sickness he always did upon land, as though the movement of a ship was as much a part of him as his heartbeat, and its lack was just as damaging as a heart attack. There were flashes of images, of a young, brown-haired boy in a barren land, and of an older, blonde-haired boy with sideburns falling through the sky, a familiar sword banging against his back…

Link gasped down great gulps of air, as though he had been swimming in deep waters. He looked over to his sword, the deep blue hilt visible under his tunic beside the bed.

It hadn't gone like that before. Not all of it, anyway. He had never seen it go on for that long before. He reached over to the hilt of his blade, and touched it. The Phantom Sword. He looked at the tips of his fingers, felt the power running through it, and rolled back onto his back. Tetra reached a hand over his chest, and he realised his heart was beating faster than he would have wanted it to.

The Phantom Sword. A weapon he had been given not so long ago, not as long ago as the time of his dreams. An ancient king, lord of the waves, had gifted him it to counter an immortal threat. But then, when was there not an immortal threat? Such is the life of a hero. Such is the life of a Link.

He had known for a long time that he was not the first hero of Hyrule. Not the first in a long, long time. Yet, since the first, there had been dozens of heroes. Not all of them Links, but more than one. More than five, if he had interpreted correctly.

He rubbed his head. He was not sure that he had interpreted correctly. It was far too late at night. He was not thinking straight.

Since then, his life had not exactly been devoid of immortals, be they threats or otherwise. And now, Pit, the Crimeans, and who knows what else. He might have been the Hero of Wind for more than half a decade now, but for the first time, he was no longer the only hero. He was one among four. A strange sense of déjà-vu came over him.

A flash of a pyramid. Rushing sands. A fox-like creature. He shut his eyes tightly. It was far too late.

Link watched the moon rising high above him through the window. Tomorrow was another day. Another start, to another journey, another leg of the quest they were on. It was going to be a long road, but a road worth taking.