Let me tell you a tale, of a village, which bore a hero who would save the world.

To me, it is a rush to tell the story right away, so I shall tell of this villages origins.

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The streets of a small village were deathly quiet. Not a single soul stirred in the dark void of thunderclouds that loomed overhead. Even the spiders fled from the seeming eternal darkness of this town. Although, through this dead atmosphere, a single footstep could be heard. The sound of the man's boot landing upon the water starved earth echoed across the area. The man was garbed in green clothes, adorning a sapphire earring in his right ear, and a ruby one in his left. His eye spoke of great peril, and of a feral lust for battle. Yet, a great calmness shrouded the man's sky blue iris'. He looked at this dead town and thought, "There must be a use for this land."

The man set out and walked through the empty streets. He looked and saw the different signs for shops that were battered, splintered, and overrun by termites. He then looked to see the date that the store opened. It was not too long ago, when this man slayed a king of great evil. He then thought, "To those who owned those shops, this is their boulevard of broken dreams." He then cast his eyes upon a well. Engraved on its roof was the crest of the Royal Family. The man peered into the well, but saw only black. He turned away from the barren well, and gazed over to the fields, west of the town. He studied that there was some farm equipment, and a shed out in the upper quadrant of the field. He walked out to the abandoned shed and looked upon it. From what he could tell, whoever built the shed, had a good study of carpentry. He advanced toward it, but heard the sound of water below him. He looked down to see that it was not water, but blood. A river of blood to be exact.

The man looked out in the field to see many crows feasting upon carcasses of dead animals and fellow Hylians. The man, disgusted by the shameful treatment of his brethren, stretched his hand out to where the crows were. Instantly, they burst into flame. The man withdrew his hand, and the both the scavengers, and their meals, were gone. The blood beneath the man's feet had evaporated, leaving a horrible metallic stench.

The man, amazed at this new found power, looked to the skies. Each of the clouds appeared to be conspiring to flood the lands surrounding him. He held up his hand, and the clouds began to flee from where he stood. Each of them disappeared into nothingness. The skies were opened up, revealing a bright and shining sun. He gazed over to the village to see its horrible wounds. Instead of looking upon this village with disdain, he looked upon it with a heart of compassion, like a boy to a stray puppy. He put his hand on the soil beneath him to feel the softness, and the richness of it. He thought, "This land is good for crops, and if I were to live here, there is a bountiful amount of resources." He then saw a bush-like shadow being cast upon the area he was standing. He looked behind himself to see a great forest of Hylian Pines. Each stood tall and proud, none of them scarred by infestation. Fortune must have been smiling upon this man. He sat out back toward the village to find a suitable home.

Over the course of 5 years, the man was able to build a house from the wood that was in the village, and even fix up much of the villages architecture. His final task he set for himself was to finish a temple dedicated to the symbols of Power, Wisdom, and Courage. As he finished the final touches on the glorious temple he built, he looked upon this village with a sense of pride.

One night, as the man was writing to a friend of his, tragedy struck. The village was suffering from a horrible rainstorm. The buildings held, but the trees nearby were struck by lightning, setting fire to them all. The fire began to spread toward the village, incinerating everything in sight. The man tried to do everything in his power to stop the fires, but nothing worked. He then thought, "Why not use that power of flame?" He stretched ot his hands toward the flames, but they continued their destructive path. He tried with all his might to summon forth the power to repel the tragedy, but nothing worked. He closed his eyes, accepting his demise. Then, from his house, a great light shone. It was the man's sword; one he made 2 years earlier. The sword sped toward him, and as it did, a voice said, "Slash at the flames." The man was doubtful at first, but he thought that anything would work at this moment. He caught the sword and focused his energy into the blade. The blade's entire being was covered with a fire like aura. The man then gazed at the flames that threatened his home and swung.

The flames disappeared...

The forest was revived, as if it were all a dream...

But...the man was no more...

The blade he used somehow made it to the temple he built, safely in a pedestal...

Below it, some text read, "Here lies the Pyro Sword. If ye take this sword in hand, unite it with the Aqua, Terra, and Tempest Swords, for the true sword to be reformed."

The village was later found by a wandering people. They settled there, living in ignorance of the villages great past.

Years soon turned to Decades. Decades to Centuries. Centuries to Millenniums. Yet, the temple that was built so very long ago, still stood, as it did the day that swordsman finished it.

The line of the swordsman was expected to end there, but a member of the wandering tribe, a girl, who was the man's wife, preserved his line.

His descendant, Link Ordoia, now lives as a villager there. He has lived a life of blessing for 16 years. But in his 17th, his life drastically changes...


NEXT CHAPTER: Chapter 1: The Legend of the Flame Swordsman

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