The air inside the sacred grove was thick and still, like the air in a sealed tomb. Link felt the sorrow here as a physical pressure, a weight on his shoulders that made each step a conscious effort. It was a place of deep, fundamental wrongness, a wound in the very soul of the world.
This was the place from the Great Bear's vision, the heart of the Whispering Woods. In the center of the grove stood a circle of colossal, ancient trees—the Sisters, as they were known in forgotten lore. They were trees of a kind Link had never seen, their bark a smooth, luminous silver, their branches intertwined high above to form a living, vaulted ceiling, like the great hall of a cathedral. This place should have been the most vibrant, most magical location in the entire forest.
And in a way, it still was. A soft, silver light still emanated from the bark of the Sister Trees, but it was a faint, struggling glow, a light that seemed to be actively dying. It pulsed in a slow, weak, arrhythmic beat, like a failing heart. The leaves on their branches were a pale, translucent green, and they did not move, frozen in a state of perpetual, silent grief.
Link walked to the center of the grove. The silence here was absolute. It was the silence of a world without hope. He looked up at the canopy, at the pale, dying light, and for the first time on his journey of self-discovery, he felt a flicker of the very despair he had come to fight. He was one small boy. How could he possibly hope to mend a wound this deep? What could his simple songs and his child's courage do against a sickness that had brought a forest this ancient and powerful to its knees?
The illusions from the path returned, their whispers more insidious now, feeding on his own doubt. He heard his father's voice, full of sorrow. It is too much for you, son. Come home. He saw a vision of Zelda, her face sad, her voice a disappointed whisper. I waited for you. Why did you leave?
He squeezed his eyes shut. He clutched the Sheikah token in his pouch. Its steady, reassuring hum was a single, true note in a symphony of lies. He was a child of two worlds. The son of a knight who had died fighting this very shadow. The son of a Sheikah who had sacrificed everything to protect him. Their strength was his inheritance.
His doubt was a luxury he could not afford. The forest was dying. He would not let it die alone. He would not let it die in silence. He opened his eyes, the brief flicker of despair extinguished, replaced by a cold, hard, and righteous anger. He would answer this Great Silence with a song.