The campfire crackled softly in the quiet night, but the usual warmth it brought felt distant. The others had finally settled down, but a heavy silence hung between them.
Wild sat apart from the group, arms wrapped around his knees, staring into the flickering flames. The memory lingered, raw and vivid, playing over and over in his mind. He could still feel it—the burning pain in his chest, the desperate way Zelda had held him, her green eyes filled with tears.
He exhaled shakily.
"You should rest," Twilight's voice was gentle but firm as he approached, taking a seat beside him. "You've been through a lot."
Wild gave a small, hollow chuckle. "More than a lot."
The others were watching. They weren't pressing him, but he could feel their eyes, feel their unease. He knew they were struggling to process what they'd seen.
Warriors finally spoke. "You fought until the very end. You never gave up."
Wild tensed. "And what good did it do?"
The words came out bitter, harsher than he meant, but he couldn't stop them. The battle, his death—it had all been for nothing. Hyrule still fell. The people still suffered. Zelda had to face it alone for a hundred years.
Sky shifted closer, his expression serious. "You came back. That means something."
Wind, usually the most cheerful of them all, frowned deeply. "I—I thought I understood how dangerous your time was, but..." His voice wavered. "That was different. That was terrifying."
Four nodded, his fingers tightening around his scabbard. "We've all seen war, but that? That wasn't just war. That was a massacre."
Wild swallowed hard, his fingers curling into the dirt beneath him. He knew they weren't trying to make it worse, but hearing them say it out loud only made the weight heavier.
"I thought I had moved past it," Wild admitted softly. "I thought... I thought if I just kept moving forward, it wouldn't catch up to me."
Time, who had been silent until now, finally spoke. "The past always catches up. It doesn't matter how far you run."
Wild looked at him then, meeting his steady gaze. There was understanding there—shared pain. The Old Man had seen his own horrors. They all had. But this?
This was different.
A breeze swept through the trees, rustling the leaves overhead. The fire crackled, sending tiny embers dancing into the night sky.
"We're with you, Wild," Sky said, voice gentle. "You don't have to face this alone."
Wild's breath hitched, and for the first time that night, the crushing weight on his chest loosened, just a little.
Maybe he didn't have to carry this alone after all.
