The road east was a different kind of silence. It was not the living, breathing silence of the Faron Woods, nor the familiar, comfortable silence of Link's own heart. It was a hollow silence, the sound of a world holding its breath in fear. The rolling, gentle hills of the Ordona Province gave way to a vast, open expanse of grassland that the maps called Hyrule Field. The sky here was immense, a boundless ocean of pale blue that made Link feel impossibly small, a single green stitch on a colossal, empty tapestry.
For three days, they walked. Their new life quickly found its rhythm. They rose before the sun, when the grass was stiff with frost, and walked until the light began to fade, the long shadows of evening chasing at their heels. Elwin, his heavy leg now supported by a sturdy crutch Rohm had made for him, set a slow but steady pace. He had shed the despair of his capture, his natural, booming cheerfulness replaced by the quiet resolve of a man with a second chance at a vital mission.
He became the voice of their journey. He filled the vast emptiness with stories, with history, with knowledge. He pointed out distant landmarks—the hazy, triple peaks of Death Mountain to the north, the faint, shimmering line of Lake Hylia to the south. He spoke of the great battles fought on this very field, of the rise and fall of kings, of the commerce that once flowed freely along this now-empty road.
"It wasn't always this quiet, you know," Elwin said on the second day, his gaze sweeping across the desolate landscape. "This road used to be bustling. Merchants with their carts full of Goron spice and Zora sapphires. Pilgrims on their way to the Temple of Time. Royal patrols, their armor shining in the sun." He sighed, the sound a small puff of white in the cold air. "Now… there's only us. People are afraid. To see a road this empty is to see a sickness in the heart of the kingdom."
Link, as always, listened. He was the silent half of their partnership, the vigilant eyes and ears. While Elwin watched the horizon, Link watched the details. He saw the tracks of lone travelers who had tried to hide their passage by walking on the verges. He saw the tracks of the monstrous patrols, the same corrupted, shuffling prints he had followed before, a constant, ugly reminder that they were not alone in this emptiness. He was the shepherd, and the whole world was now his pasture, filled with unseen wolves.
On the afternoon of the third day, they came across the first true sign of the sickness Elwin had spoken of. It was an abandoned farmhouse, a stone's throw from the road. It wasn't ruined or burned. It simply sat there, empty and expectant. The door was slightly ajar, swinging on a single, groaning hinge. The fields around it were fallow, the neatly plowed furrows already sprouting weeds.
Elwin stopped, leaning heavily on his crutch. "The Abernathys' farm," he said, his voice low. "Good people. Maddy Abernathy made the best pumpkin bread in all of Hyrule."
Driven by a grim curiosity, they approached. The silence here was different again. It was the silence of a life interrupted. A child's toy, a small wooden horse like the one he'd been gifted, lay on its side in the yard. A line of washing was still pegged to a rope, the simple clothes stiff and bleached by the sun and frost. Inside, a layer of dust covered a table that was still set for a meal that had never been eaten. The family hadn't fled in a panic. They had simply… vanished.
Link walked through the silent house, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. He felt a cold dread in the air, the faint, residual scent of the shadow's malice. He went to the hearth. Among the cold ashes, he saw a small, dark object. He picked it up. It was a shard of obsidian, just like the one he had seen the merchant Kael give to the hooded figure in his vision. The family hadn't just left. They had been visited.
He showed the shard to Elwin. The postman's face, already grim, paled further. "So it's true," he whispered. "They're not just on the roads. They're at the doors."
They left the silent, sad little house and continued their journey, the weight of the Abernathys' fate settling upon them. That evening, as they made camp in the shelter of a lonely cluster of rocks, Link looked out at the vast, dark expanse of Hyrule Field. It was no longer an empty space. It was a hunting ground. And he was beginning to understand that the friend he was trying to save was not just a princess named Zelda. It was the entire, unsuspecting kingdom she represented.