house of cards

When twilight blankets Hyrule, Zant is under no threat. He can move around the continent as he pleases, between impromptu portals or - quite rarely - on foot, with an entourage of Shadow Beasts behind him in ceremonial masks.

The point is to blot out the light, and to do that he must retrieve the Fused Shadows. As of late, this has become difficult. Zant's mask affords him the space in which to compose himself, but he is tried. Oh, he is so very tried.

He will not whimper. He will not falter. He will not now nor ever again fall to his knees and beat at the ground as if the tiles of the Twilight Realm have somehow wronged him.

He has absolute command of power. He has been chosen by his god. His god is wiser and more impervious than any Light Spirit of Hyrule. Imagine those foolish sages attempting to speak out against him, against them, when his god could extinguish their lingering life force so simply, with a single lunge.

The quest itself, the problem posed to Zant as current (and future) ruler of the Twilight Realm, is a knife-edge thing. It's already over, and yet it's not. The kingdom has been won, and yet it is empty.

Sometimes Zant feels a nudge of indirection playing at the eyes of his mask. Where is the prize that all this has been about? Where is the goal, among grandeur?

But then Ganondorf reminds him of the glory he bears. His god, his monarch, his king among thieves and usurpers, establishes precedent without needing prayer.

This bond, this fealty, persists between universes. Of course! For Ganondorf's power also persists, also makes itself manifest in glorious forms red-haired and bold.

Zant begins to imagine that he himself is strong, by osmosis, by proximity - a tantalizing idea.

His prideful smile. His intense and all-seeing eyes.

Zant need not question his choices, because the utmost security is to be sought in the presence of Ganondorf himself.