The last note of the Song of Healing faded, but its echo lingered, a warm and persistent hum in the heavy air of the grove. Link lowered the ocarina, his body trembling with the effort of pouring so much of his own spirit into the music. He was exhausted, but he was not empty. He looked around at the gathered Dryads.
The grove was not cured. The silver light in the Sister Trees was still faint, their leaves still pale. The Great Silence had not been vanquished. But it had been pushed back. The oppressive, soul-crushing weight in the air had lifted, replaced by a fragile, tentative peace. The Dryads' forms were no longer fading. They were still translucent, but their light was steadier, their presence more defined. Link's song had not been a cure, but it had been a potent antidote. It had reminded them of hope. It had reminded them how to fight.
The Dryads drifted closer to him, their sorrowful eyes now filled with a deep and profound gratitude. The one who seemed the oldest, her form woven from silver birch leaves, reached out a hand of pure, faint light and gently touched the clay ocarina in Link's hand. The other spirits followed suit, each one placing a hand of light upon the simple instrument.
They were giving him a gift, a blessing. He felt a warm, green, and silver light flow from their collective spirits and into the ocarina. The simple, baked clay of the instrument seemed to absorb the light, and faint, moss-like patterns of glowing green began to trace their way across its surface. They were weaving a part of their own life force, their own ancient, natural magic, into his instrument.
A final, collective thought flowed from them into his mind. Our song is weak... but yours is now stronger... Let your music be a shield... against the Silence...
They had given him what little they had left to give. As the blessing was completed, their forms began to fade, their duty done. They retreated back into the silver bark of their trees, their energy spent, to begin the long, slow process of healing. A single, final message was left in his mind, a whisper of thanks and a solemn warning.
The source of the Despair is not of this forest... It is a shadow that falls from a high place... growing ever longer... Be wary, little songbird...
The grove was empty once more. Link stood alone, the newly empowered ocarina warm in his hands. He felt a deep connection to it now, a sense of the ancient, resilient life of the forest itself humming within the clay. He had come here to find answers, and he had. He now knew the name and the nature of his enemy's greatest weapon.
He turned to leave, his heart heavy with the knowledge he now carried, but no longer weighed down by the despair of the woods.