Welcome to the end of the second day of the AkaSaku TRICK or TREAT Event! Quite a last minute idea for a submission, but one I am excited for nonetheless. I somehow managed to get the first part done before the end of the day—so here you go!
Day 2 | Oct. 28 / Movie Night; Love Potion
[Made in participation of the @akasakurevival AkaSaku Halloween Trick or Treat Event]
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Hello every-sprout! My most recent event!fic was supposed to be my last one of the year, but when @zelda-the-sacred-realm announced an artist/writer event for their wonderful comic, I really couldn’t resist!
My event piece is based largely on the presently available chapters of the comic. I saw the weeping goddess statue in Chapter 2, Part 7 and the writing creature in my brain immediately began frothing at the mouth. This short story takes place shortly before the beginning of the main comic, with a lot of foreshadowing toward certain parts of said comic.
I know there is a lot of available information, but I wrote most of this before remembering that the archive existed, haha. (I did take a peak at the post of how ToTK may affect the story, though, given that I chose dondons as their ranch animal of choice.)
*As a note, as there are sentient Lizalfos seen in Chapter 2, Part 5, I played with the idea of different, kinder Lizalfolk who have no desire to be manipulated by the cycle of darkness.
I sincerely hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Looking forward to how the rest of the Sacred Realm legend plays out! Much love 💕
SUMMARY:
Goddess Hylia has shed her tears for many of her children. The Goddess statues dotting Hyrule’s vast landscape and the statuettes held in many hands bring those tears into the mortal realm in order to heal wounds. According to legend, only the pleas of the righteous can bring them forth. But unknown to all, now that her powers have waned, only a Spirit of the Hero can reach her.
Still, the Goddess has other ways to help her people.
[Submission under the cut:]
a bit of warmth to you
a Zelda: The Sacred Realm Event!fic
The tears of the Goddess had always been known to heal. Brought into the mortal realm by the statues made in her image, the myths surrounding the miraculous substance were nigh infinite. Fables that—in ancient times—ensured that any traveller with a shred of faith kept a statuette on their person. For safety. For assurance. For the day that they were brought to their knees.
Or worse.
Pala’s great-grandma still kept one in her pocket on rainy days. On the desolate nights that her mother, Great-Great Grandma Cala, had marked the old cycle of the Blood Moon. Even now Pala could understand why she did it. On nights like those, every kind of ghost story felt real.
She remembered snuggling up to Grams’ side in the old, creaky sofa still kept here in the summer house, a shiver barely touching the tip of her spine. The blinds to the window the sofa was placed adjacent to were cracked open just enough to see a sliver of the moon. Haunting as it was beautiful. Back then, her knees, young and knobby, would knock against her great-grandma’s with every fearful jolt. But Grams never said a word. Her gaze would flicker only from the statuette next to the old, weathered journal on the table to the silent vision of the moon above.
The sight of the eternally weeping goddess still stuck to the back of her mind, despite the many years that had passed since then.
She had gifted one to Pala at the end of her fifteenth summer. And despite Pala herself holding little belief in its power, she could not deny the comfort that the sight of the little statuette brought.
Unlike her great-grandma’s personal carving, this one was made of ivory. Likely sourced from a horn shedding one of their bucks had shucked off two winters before. Dondons were easy like that. Once their horn was detached, the shedding was no more important to them than a mildly interesting rock. Grandpa Dan had always claimed that was why their family had picked up ranching them. The horns were valuable. Easy to obtain if someone did it right. And dondons themselves were amicable animals.
The carving of the statuette was not shoddy by any means. It was actually quite beautiful. Made with more detail and skill than she had expected from her great-grandmother, given her arthritis. But Pala could tell there was a slight difference between hers and the one made of old kokiri wood Grams always carried.
Namely, the lack of tear tracks scorched into its face.
Even now she can picture the strangely perfect markings burnt into aged kokiri wood. Symmetrical. Down to the stray tear on either cheek. An impossible feat for human hands. The ivory statuette tucked away in the pouch at her hip had no such detail.
But she knew better than to ask.
Pala rolled her shoulders, warding off the stiffness she could feel threatening to seep in. She needed to get moving anyhow. Heaven knows what Grams would say if she saw her still loitering around the front door at this hour. The sun was already tipping past the horizon line as it was.
She finished adjusting her breeches, tapping the heels of her boots a few times to get them fitting just right. Once everything was snug, she pushed the door open and stepped out into the cool morning air. It wouldn’t last for long, given the natural humidity in this region, but it was the best way to start the day. It made the gradual increase in heat more bearable. To Pala, at least.
She marched off the porch, grabbing a sputter lantern as she did so. Even with the sun pulling the sky into hues of purple and pink, the old stallhouse in the paddock hardly had an open ‘window’ for it to show through.
Their field in Upper Faron was quite a bit of land. It was less open than the one down near Lurelin, but it still had plenty of room. Most of the crowding came from the native flora. Crawling thickets and towering durian trees made it feel as if someone had built a low roof over the whole place. Not that the dondons cared any. They were short, heavyset animals with plenty of food to eat at their eye level. As far as they were concerned, the local thickets were an all-you-can-eat buffet. Another point of ease in their care, really.
Pala grunted as Lunal, the heifer in the stall closest to her, bumped into her keg with an unhappy snort.
“Fine, fine,” she placated, smoothing her hand over the beast’s blunt snout, “I get it. It’s scrub time.”
Lunal gave her the best estimation of a droll look that a dondon could perform. It was quite impressive actually. Pala shook her head with a laugh, lifting her scrub brush up to the beast’s back and getting to work.
══════════════════
Pala looked down the field toward the river at the sound of a familiar shout. It was now about midday, and the sunlight easily permeated through the surrounding flora, allowing her to see. There, on the other side, was a quickly approaching Lizalfolk woman. As she grew closer, the clearer her features became.
It was Talon. A Lizalfolk fisherwoman who had been a friend of the family for decades. Since around the time Great-Great Grandma Cala was girl, if she remembered right. Pala often thought of her as a sort of maternal figure. She was a mature woman. Confident and sturdy.
Pala watched as she climbed up the small incline in a few short leaps. Almost as if she was in a rush. Pala had never seen her move so quick outside of fishing.
“Get Erta,” Talon grunted as she came to a stop in front of her. The panic that reflected in her eyes was unusual. Pala’s stomach twisted at the sight of it. When she hesitated, Talon frowned. “Now, Palais.”
The intensity of her voice was alarming. But Pala nodded anyway and turned on her heel, rushing to the house.
It felt like an omen. Like a warning. Briefly, she wondered about the town. About Hyrule itself. Hopefully, the royal family had received a warning as well. They were kind, as far as Pala knew. And they ruled well. It didn’t sit right with her that only she and her family would know.
Though she wasn’t sure how they would be told about whatever was happening, but she was sure they could find out somehow. There was no way a bunch of dondon ranchers would be the only ones in Hyrule to be warned.
Besides, didn’t heroes show up in times like this? It certainly felt like they should. Pala had never felt so nervous in her life.
She felt out of breath by the time she made it to the house. The door was already open, the muffled sound of Gram’s low voice easily heard. She sped inside.
Grams turned at the sound of her footsteps. She took one look at Pala’s face and frowned, sighing as she retrieved her cane.
“Talon—” She started. Grams waved her off, already limping toward the door. She glanced back for a moment. She gestured toward the outdoors with her chin.
“Let’s go, Palais.”
Pala nodded. She trotted forward, gently helping Grams walk as she guided her back to the lower hill. Talon remained where she had left her. The frown on her face must have remained the entire duration Pala was gone.
“Talon,” Erta leaned heavily on her cane as she approached the woman.
“Erta,” she returned quickly. She glanced behind herself, her eyes flickering across the empty plain. “You should move the herd early this season.”
Pala blinked in surprise. They had never changed fields so early. Not when the weather was so pleasant. At least, not to her memory.
Her great-grandma gave the fisherwoman a long, hard look.
“Dan won’t like it.”
“He doesn’t have to.” Talon glanced backwards again. “The thought of an adventure will win him over.”
Pala looked too, though she didn’t see anything. It was unlike Talon to be so jumpy. Yet she was. Pala returned her gaze to the fisherwoman as she spoke again.
“Besides,” Her gaze flickered toward the field Granddan was likely in, “The fresh Lurelin air would do him some good, too.”
Talon wasn’t wrong. Every trip back to Lurelin was always an adventure. It was never a guarantee just who someone could meet on the road. Nor could someone really predict the weather or how the terrain had changed in the past six months. Pala distinctly remembered a time when the river had moved, blindsiding the three of them.
The conversation continued, pulling her from her thoughts.
“What about you?” Grams asked. The natural follow up in a situation such as this. Pala glanced at Talon from her place at her great-grandma’s side. She wanted to know the answer, too. The fisherwoman shook her head. Pala frowned.
“Rivers are in my blood. You know that.”
Grams sighed. Her shoulders sunk, her mouth opening as she looked down, “Take care of yourself.”
“I always do.” Talon assured. Then, she turned her eyes to Pala. Her gaze flickers to the hilt of the throwing dagger at Pala’s hip. “Don’t forget what I taught you, Palais.”
A stone sunk into her stomach. Talon’s words felt less like a brief farewell and more like she might never see her again.
“I don’t think I could even if I tried,” she tried to smile, but she was sure it appeared more like a grimace. It was the best she could do. When Talon returned it, Pala didn’t say anything about how sad it looked.
The fisherwoman gave her an approving nod. Then, she looked back to Pala’s great-grandma. Despite the sincerity of her words, they sounded brittle.
“May we meet again, my friend.”
When Pala glanced at her, Grams smile had stiffened. She made the impossible promise anyway.
“Until then.”
══════════════════
Grams had been right. Granddan was not happy about moving the herd. No matter how her great-grandmother had played it off as an adventure like Talon had suggested. Pala had always known that Granddan had been an adventurer when he was young. Peddling dondon ivory and the like as he went searching for anything that piqued his interest. He even claimed that a boy he’d met would one day grow up to be the Hero talked about in the old legends. Grandma Malta had called that particular claim hogwash all the way up to her deathbed, but for the first time in nearly a decade, Pala hoped it was true.
Hyrule might just need a hero right now.
She stayed quiet as she shuffled around the kitchenette, listening in as predictably, Granddan disagreed with the spontaneity of the plan. He didn’t like changing things so abruptly. And to be perfectly honest, neither did Grams. Which was probably what actually bothered him. Something about this entire situation had forced Grams’ hand. She would have never agreed to Talon’s suggestion otherwise.
“You understand this doesn’t make a lick of sense, don’t you?” Granddan asked, the question nearly rhetorical. Pala glanced at the pair just in time to see Grams raise a single, thick brow.
“And since when has ‘sense’ meant so much to you?” She rolled her shoulders, continuing her work and packing things away. “Don’t forget who raised you, boy.”
Granddan grumbled a bit under his breath.
“Guess I’ll have to head into town to send a courier down to Lachlan,” he spoke up, already turning toward the front door. Pala quickly looked back at the counter, hoping she wasn’t caught listening in. Granddan’s snort told her otherwise. She lifted her gaze. There weren’t that many private conversations in their little house, anyway.
“Don’t.” Grams called out before he took more than two steps. Granddan whipped black around, his brows drawn together in consternation.
“Whaddya mean, ‘don’t?’ He’s gotta know we’re coming.” Her grandfather made to turn back toward the door again. Grams wasn’t having any of it.
“I said, don’t.”
“You gotta start making sense sometime, Ma!” Granddan hissed. He gave up, marching over to one of the dining chairs and dropping into it with a heavy thud.
“Don’t you take that tone with me, Danel.” Grams pointed the knitting needle in her hand at him as she spoke. Wisely, Pala continued to stay quiet as the two ‘argued.’ Grams continued, “And it’ll make sense when it makes sense. It isn’t as if Lachlan puts anyone up in our old hut anyhow.”
Pala peered at Granddan, waiting to see what he would say. In the short silence that followed, Grams put her knitting away. When Pala glanced back at her, she saw that she had pulled the old calendar book from Great-Great Grandma Cala. Granddan had clearly caught sight of it. He didn’t say anything, but the frown on his face deepened. He looked to Pala just as she returned her gaze to him.
“C’mon Pala-girl,” Granddan said instead of what he so clearly wanted to, “Ol’ Kilo won’t listen to anybody ‘cept you.”
“Yessir,” Pala said as she, too, turned fully toward the front door. “Though, I think s’just ‘cause he don’t like you all that much, Granddan.”
Granddan sniffed.
“Maybe he would if he made better choices.”
“Don’t put him up in the stall next to the hutch, then.” Grams called out from behind them. Granddan couldn’t deny that she had a point. Pala figured he would refute it despite that. After all, dondons weren’t meant to eat cuccoo eggs. Kilo did it anyway.
“He should know better!” Granddan called back.
Pala thought to herself that Kilo did, in fact, know better. He just liked getting a rise out of Granddan. Just like his sire once did. She briefly wondered if her grandpa actually did know about Kilo’s tricks before quickly discarding the idea. If Granddan knew, he wasn’t letting on.
“C’mon Granddan,” Pala tugged on his arm, “I’ll even let you have Helt’s pasture.” She watched her offer work like a treat, the irritated look in Granddan’s eyes disappearing almost immediately. He patted her on the head.
“You’re a blessing straight from the goddesses, Pala-girl.”
“Course I am. I had you to raise me, didn’t I?”
Granddan laughed.
“That y’did, Pala-girl, that y’did.”
══════════════════
Talon wasn’t there to see them off a few days later. Something about it seemed wrong to Pala, though the fisherwoman wasn’t always around to say goodbye most times anyhow. But a lot of things were different this time around. The way they felt watched when she came to them, her suggestion early move, Grams allowing the early move—nothing added up. Not really. It made Pala worry.
But Grams had been strict in their preparations. There was no time to go searching for her. Worse yet, a storm seemed to be approaching from the west. If they left now, they could probably outrun it. And mauve that had been Talon’s plam all along. Even if it felt like there was something more to it. But leaving now gave Pala no time to do anything else. No time to say goodbye. Not to the townspeople or the other Lizalfolk Pala knew. There just wasn’t enough.
That was what rattled her most.
Pala sighed, checking over the doors and windows in the house one last time. Granddan was out securing the last of the tarps, and the cuccoos were already caged up in the back wagon with Grams. She was the last one left. And terribly, she had the strangest feeling it would be the last time she was. The summer house wouldn’t be here when they got back.
At least not the way it looked now.
She shook her head. Stepping out into the late morning sun, she reached back to pull the door closed. It slotted almost perfectly into the frame. Each half of the latch mechanism lined up, clinking together as she moved the latchbolt into place. Her hand lingered for a moment. The other reached into the pocket with her ivory statuette of Hylia, holding tightly around the well-carved object.
Pala closed her eyes.
The prayer was short. But it didn’t need to be long. All Pala needed was safe passage and the promise of reunion. So that was what she asked for. The statuette sat warm in her hand, though she couldn’t tell for sure if it was the warmth of summer or an answer. She chose to believe the latter.
Her eyes opened.
“C’mon Pala-girl!” Granddan called from the driver’s seat of the front cart. She glanced over at the caravan. The entire herd was present, ready to follow Kilo and Lunal, the dame and darrow. Squinting, she could see that the two were already harnessed up. “Sun’ll only get hotter!”
Well, he wasn’t wrong.
Pala jogged up to the front cart, climbing into the seat next to her grandfather. Looking at the well-trodden path ahead of her, she could easily imagine they were going out on an adventure. Out to save the world, though it really only felt like they were saving the herd. Still, the thought made her feel a bit better about leaving.
Two clicks and a familiar whistle later, they were off.
As the wagon rumbled over the ancient, weathered road, Pala felt the statuette in her pocket pulse once more with warmth. It was of little comfort, though it did soothe her nerves a bit. The distant clouds were suddenly just a bit lighter.
Welcome to the first day of Kisame Week! I chose to participate in this years event (though my plans for it quickly ballooned out of proportion and had to be quartered but shhhhhhh) and I hope you enjoy my submission(s).
Day 1 | Prompt A
“A monster is not such a terrible thing to be.”
[Made in participation of the @kisames-corner Kisame Week 2024 event.]
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
