To enter the Great Fishback Forest was to step into a world between worlds. The mist was a living entity, a constant, silent companion that coiled around the pale, silver-barked trees and muffled the sounds of the world, leaving only the steady, rushing voice of the Zora River. It was a labyrinth of white and grey, a place where the sun was a rumor and direction was a guess.
Elwin, a man accustomed to maps and milestones, was utterly lost. He navigated by memory and instinct, but the disorienting, shifting veils of mist made a mockery of his knowledge. "In all my years, I've never dared this path," he admitted, his voice a low hum so as not to carry. "The stories say this forest doesn't just confuse your path; it confuses your mind."
Link, however, felt a strange sense of peace here. This mist was not the malicious, cloying fog from the corrupted groves of Faron. This was a clean, pure, and ancient presence. He moved with a quiet confidence, his senses attuned to the subtle language of the place. He could feel the direction of the river's flow in the dampness of the air, he could read the age of the trees by the thickness of the moss on their northern faces. And all the while, the Sheikah token in his pouch emitted a soft, steady hum, a warm and reassuring pulse that told him they were still on the right path.
They were following the riverbank, the rushing water their only constant guide, when Link saw it. For a fraction of a second, a shape broke the surface of the churning water—a flash of iridescent sapphire, a form that moved with the impossible speed and grace of a striking fish, yet was far too large. It was gone before Elwin even noticed. A watcher. Link placed a hand on his friend's arm, a silent signal to be on guard.
A short while later, as they rounded a bend where the riverbank narrowed, their path was blocked. They emerged from the river as if born from the water itself, silent and sudden. There were three of them, their sleek, aquatic bodies a shimmering mosaic of blue and silver scales. They were Zora, the proud, ancient people of the water. They held elegant, trident-like spears of polished, coral-inlaid silver, and their gaze, from large, intelligent eyes, was as cold and as hard as river stone.
"That is far enough, landwalkers," the lead Zora said, their voice a melodic, feminine sound that held the undertone of a powerful current. She was taller than the others, a captain, with a finned crest on her head that was a shade of deep, royal blue.
Elwin, leaning on his crutch, immediately raised a hand in a gesture of peace. "Greetings," he said, his voice warm and diplomatic. "We are simple travelers, seeking passage upriver. We mean you no harm."
The Zora captain was unmoved. "All landwalkers bring harm, whether they mean to or not," she replied, her spear held steady. "A dark sickness flows down this river from your surface world. A corruption that chokes the life from the water. We have seen the blighted fish, the twisted beasts that now lurk in the deep pools. We are the guardians of the river's source, and we will not allow your plague to poison its heart. No Hylian may pass."
"But we are on a mission for the King!" Elwin insisted, his frustration growing. "I am a Royal Postman. We carry a dispatch of vital importance!"
The Zora's expression soured. "The King's laws are written in dirt and dust. They wash away at the water's edge. Your world is sick. Turn back, or we will consider you a part of the infection."
The impasse was absolute. The Zora warriors tensed, their spears glinting. Elwin's words, the tools of his trade, had failed him completely.
It was then that Link stepped forward. He moved past Elwin, his small frame seeming utterly defenseless before the armed and armored Zora. He did not draw his sword. He did not raise his voice. He simply stood before the captain, his twilight eyes calm and clear.
First, he unslung his enchanted shield from his back and held it up. He did not brandish it as a weapon, but presented it as an offering. The Zora captain's eyes widened slightly. As a member of a deeply magical race, she could feel it: the faint, pure aura of the deep forest, the blessing of a guardian spirit that clung to the wood. The hostility in her posture lessened by a fraction, replaced by a flicker of curiosity.
Then, Link did something that changed everything. He reached into his pouch and took out the simple, hand-carved ocarina that Ilia had given him. He had practiced with it in secret during their long nights on the road, pouring his loneliness and his hope into its simple, clay form. He brought it to his lips.
He did not play a grand, heroic anthem or a sorrowful lament. He played the river.
The first notes that emerged were soft and low, the sound of deep, slow-moving water in a quiet pool. The melody then quickened, becoming the playful, gurgling sound of the current flowing over smooth stones. It rose into a series of clear, cascading trills that perfectly mimicked the sound of the small waterfall they had passed a mile back. He was not just playing music; he was holding up a mirror, showing them the soul of their own home, proving he had been listening.
The Zora warriors stared, mesmerized. Their grip on their spears loosened.
Link then seamlessly transitioned the melody. He began to play the Song of Healing. The pure, resonant notes, imbued with the magic of the Great Deku Sprout, flowed into the misty air. The song spoke a language older than words, a language of life, of purity, of a spirit unburdened by shadow or malice. The Zora, a people whose very culture was built on song and harmony, could feel the truth in the music. They could feel the clear, uncorrupted heart of the small, silent boy playing it.
When the last note faded, a profound silence settled over the riverbank, deeper even than the mist.
The Zora captain slowly, reverently, lowered the tip of her spear until it touched the ground. A look of sheer awe was on her face. "You… you speak the river's tongue," she said, her voice now a soft whisper. "And your heart-song… it is as clear as the sacred spring."
The test, one Link hadn't even known he was taking, was over. The other Zora lowered their weapons, their cold, suspicious expressions replaced by a deep, unwavering respect.
"Forgive our hostility, Silent One," the captain said with a slight bow of her head. "We have been guarding this river against a great darkness for many seasons. We are allies of the Silent Ones who dwell in the mountains," she used the Zora's name for the Sheikah, "and we were told to expect a messenger. But we did not know what form they would take. We were told to trust only one whose spirit was as pure as the source."
She turned and gestured upriver. "You have proven your worth. The mists of this forest are a labyrinth designed to keep the unworthy from finding the hidden paths. But the river knows the way. Follow us."
She and her warriors slipped back into the churning water, their forms now guides instead of guards. "We will take you to the Veiled Falls," the captain's voice called out from the water. "Beyond them lies the path to the Iris Sanctuary."
Elwin stood, utterly dumbfounded, his jaw agape. He looked from the Zora, now leading the way, to the small, silent boy beside him who had just pacified a hostile warrior patrol with a simple song. His journey with Link had been a constant series of revelations, each one more astonishing than the last.
Link simply tucked his ocarina away and gave his friend a small, encouraging nod. Their desperate, lonely flight was over. They now had powerful, ancient allies. They were being led through the final veil of secrecy, to the very doorstep of their quest's end. He turned his gaze upriver and walked, following the Zora into the heart of the mist.