Ghirahim slowly and painfully made his way to the exit of the Demon realm. After his fight with Link, he had been so very sore. The spot where the diamond had been on his chest still ached, and with a glance down, he saw the veins on his chest sticking out with irritation. With a deep breath, he made it to the circle.
The circle he stood on was light red, and it had similar markings spreading from it on the ground as the ones that stood out on his face and body. Bracing himself, he reached up and snapped his fingers, and was warped to the parallel world.
Ghirahim landed behind the statue of the goddess in the Sealed Grounds. Below, he knew his master was vanquished forever. Yet inside the temple, the Master Sword sat, housing the Demise from the past. To crack the mystery of the seal on the sword That was his only hope. Save his master, save his own life.
He edged along the side of the large statue, still cringing from pain. It was slowly ebbing away, though, and he felt his posture come back to him. He edged around the side, and peeked around. There were people sitting in a circle, and luckily no one noticed him. He stepped back, pressing his back to the cold stone. Raising his hand, he let out a snap, and was quickly warped into the temple.
Pillars hid his appearance, and as he looked around the edge of one, he saw the sky child. Link stood with the blond girl that the Demon Lord had attempted capture on so many times. What's her name? Zelda? They were in front of the doors, about to exit. Link suddenly stopped, and turned around in a circle, sensing Ghirahim…
…Who froze and backed up against the column even more.
Finally, the two exited, leaving him in the room alone. I should have come here at night… He thought to himself. He heard the doors to the temple grind together, and a loud bang signified their closing.
He ran forward, and found himself standing before the legendary sword. Glancing behind himself nervously, he realized all was safe; the destroyed Gate of Time hid him, and he'd know if anyone else were to enter the temple. He squatted down, and reached out to touch the silver blade. As soon as his fingers touched the surface, he recoiled. A burning sensation shot up his arm, and he found that his fingers that had touched it were white. Not only that, but they were numb. He flexed his hand, trying to regain the sense. It didn't work.
The sword spirit for the Master Sword was named Fi. And she was like him. Biting his lip, he sat back and gave it more thought. Maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to mimic the sword's surface, and make a way into the realm within the sword.
His master would then surely be able to understand, right?
He reached out yet again and touched the metal, and the burn resurfaced. He ignored it, and sat there, clutching the end of his cape in his mouth to not make a sound. He abruptly let out a sharp gasp, and the hand that was touching the blade flew to his chest, where his chest abruptly shot a sharp pain across his torso. He felt the tip of the diamond rise again, and his breath became uneven.
The burning in his hand traveled forward and buried itself into the diamond, which disappeared as soon as it appeared. The burning luckily ceased, as did the pain in his chest. But what was left of it felt… wrong. His fingers had sensitivity and were back to the color they'd originally been, but it was that part in his chest that had the numbness. Great. He thought irritably.
He remembered reading something somewhere once, about a spell that allowed anyone to go into anything. Or it was something similar to it. He stood, still touching the numb spot on his chest, and warped back to the demon world. He just had to find that book.
Back in his manor, he searched the library for that book. The walls were just covered in bookshelves, and nothing was as organized as it had once been. Evidently his minions had been through it, searching for information on the Goddess's chosen hero. Frustration swept over him in a wave. He abruptly called for his slaves, and four of them hurriedly ran into the room, tripping over each other.
He gave a sigh, getting tired of having to deal with their stupidity. "Where's the tome on dark spells?" He asked, watching them with a glower. The four looked at each other, sending back silent growls to communicate. "Well?" He shouted, becoming even more impatient than usual. They turned back to him, dumfounded. His hand went to his eye, hoping to stop the twitching there. "Then find it. Now."
Ever since the hero had defeated both him and his master, things had not been going well for him. His patience was merely a word, not something that truly existed.
While his minions searched the shelves, he paced back and forth, a grimace on his face. Couldn't they hurry? He debated telling them of the fate that was set for him, but decided against it. It was too risky. They'd run rampage, destroying the realm for all it was worth, just because their master was warned of his destruction if he failed. They'll be the end of me. He thought glumly, then let out a mental groan as a shelf fell on one of the red monsters, emitting a purple cloud from under it.
He walked over and flipped the book shelf off the floor, and dug through the books himself. A dark purple and red book caught his eyes, and he picked it up. The book was heavy and large, and covered in dust. In black writing, he saw it titled, "The art of Black Magic" and let out a joyful cry. He fled the room with the book tucked in the crook of his arm, leaving his minions to put the books back into order and mourn the lost.
He dashed into his study, and flung the book on the desk. Excited, he flung himself around the table and into the chair behind it. He scooted forward, and flipped through the pages. He'd seen it before. The spell that would allow things to enter and leave sealed places was the one he'd need. Inside the Master Sword counts as a sealed place, correct? He thought to himself, pausing to think. He nodded. Demise was "sealed" in the sword, after being defeated.
He flipped through the huge manuscript at least three times before he found it, and he smoothed out the page. The worn cover did nothing to keep the pages together, and he attempted to keep the thing from collapsing. What he saw was an intricate diagram on a portal, and how to make it. The book had been made hundreds of years before, and being the only one in existence, Ghirahim wasn't sure if it would work. He traced his index finger along the circle in the center of the page, thinking.
It required something round, or had been round, and large. He put the backs of his hands against his face and leaned back, musing over what he could use. As a realization dawned on him, he stood up so fast the chair toppled backwards. The Gate of Time.
Of course, he couldn't use the one in the forest, considering it would be noticeable if it were to be taken. He tapped his finger on the wood. No. He thought. The one in the desert. It's broken, but it will surely fill its purpose again.
He grabbed the book and started to the edge of the darkened realm, and approached the exit. As he stepped on it, he turned. The world he had ruled over, the land that called him Lord, completely depended on if he were able to succeed. There's no pressure. He lied to himself.
With a deep sigh, he snapped his fingers and warped to the sea of sand.