Fi's Testament

The mind of a goddess is a very confusing place. Zelda learned this quickly, learned it hard, and now was left spinning in the wake of what felt like a long, cold dream. Beside Impa, Zelda was so small. Beside Impa, Hylia was huge. Days... years... an age without any disconnect between herself, asleep, had marooned her in the middle of a savage world of thought.

Blinking, she looked at the cavernous ceiling. She'd spent so long in this temple, shut away from the outside. The cold granite walls faded to a shadowed ceiling, where only spiders and dust gathered. The stifling, still-raw air from outside blew in warm and ashy, foul on the tongue. It would take centuries for it to clear away, contained beneath clouds and purified by the waters, the earth, the forests. Monolithic, Impa stood coldly at hand. Zelda looked up at her too: saw eyes filled with such reverence, thanks, and joy that was muted against her alabaster face.

It was over. It was all over, she thought. No, said the part that was Hylia. It has just begun. You are not yet through. A light will be thrown into the future: an ever-burning brand against darkness.

Her task will begin.

And in that dusty, still haze at the bottom of the stairs, Zelda waited. She waited for a goodbye as she ever had, as she knew would always come. At the top, her greatest handmaiden, her greatest work, her final legacy would lay to rest. And then, when she was needed most, her power would remain.

Funny, thought Hylia. Sealing any residual essence of a slain demon had little to do with her mandated termination clause. It was not quite a lie, but a misplaced context. A desperate attempt... at something.

Then it was obvious, and she was Zelda again. She needed to be Zelda to see, to see what had happened, to see that her efforts at creating a guide had gone awry. Mortals did not keep guides around. They didn't see a being as utility, or a land as protectorate. But Zelda knew. Humbled, the hubris of an old goddess failed.

Unbidden, she ascended the stairs, white gown bunched in white knuckles. Her footsteps were light, hesitant. But soon that hesitation was forgotten as soon as the spirit's normally-impassive face filled her sight. Why, she lamented, was she created without eyes? What was the purpose of that terrible decision?

"Fi."

Instantly, the swordmaiden was at her feet. That was one thing that hadn't changed. "What do you require, Your Grace?"

"Please rise, Fi. You don't have to bow like this," she said quietly, and was obeyed immediately. "Fi, I have... more instructions for you. There is a very important job I want you to do."

"I am ready to receive commands, Your Grace."

Zelda straightened. Eye to eye, she felt her voice return. "First, you are to disregard your final order," she said, voice ringing in the hall. Every bit a goddess. "Things are different now. I have changed my mind."

Link gaped. Poor Link, she thought. What a nasty prank! Tearing away his new friend, and then surprising him with a big old joke at the end. She would have to make it up to him. "Second, you already know that when we leave this time, many centuries will have passed before we will return to this place"

"That is correct."

"Even if Link has explored some of the surface world with you, he will not have seen all of it. Does he know where towns may be built, where food may be found, where land may be planted?"

"Negative. There is only a .05 percent chance that each statement is true."

Zelda sighed. "When we come back... we won't know anything. We won't be equipped to survive in this new world for long, especially if more than just us come down to see it all. We won't even be sure if this place will remain safe while we are gone." She paused. "Fi, this is my assignment: You are to remain awake. Your physical body, the Master Sword, must remain here to seal Demise until we come back... but you are free to come and go as you please as a spirit. You are to learn all you can about this world, observe it as it calms from the turmoil outside into what it's like in my present time. Then you're going to meet us and tell us what you've learned.

The quiet was complete now. Behind, Groose and even Impa had to catch their breath. Zelda's fading words ended on a smile when she saw the great light behind Fi's face. So tiny. So hard to catch. But there. Maybe Link knew her form of expression better than she did. There was nothing so human, so easy as a smile.

But she glowed. And then, just like the human she was, Zelda rethought herself again. No, her eyes were more than adequate. She had found her own way, thought Zelda. Asking Fi to be, act, or seem human was nothing more than an imposition placed by ego. One that her divine former self had wisely not made.

"Besides, you have to keep Impa company," she said sadly, and rubbed her bare wrist.

–

Reunited, laughter. The birth of a nation. The rise of a crown. Peace.

Mortality.

Death.

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Final log, day 1,303,415 of function.

It is not logical that this final record of operation proceed in this format, Master. It has been many years since you have passed on, and there is a 0 percent chance that you could hear me. However, addressing you closely approximates human comfort.

It is on this day that I have completed, within the bounds of my capability, the modified final order given to me by the goddess Hylia, my creator. I have continued Master Link's work, and have gone to compile a full understanding of Hyrule. By your side, Master, we explored the ice wastes to the far north, the southern jungles, prevailed over 112 various dragons, and charted all of Hyrule. After your death, I traveled the far-distant heavens and stars, where mortal flesh may never tread.

I regret to inform you that results have been inconclusive. Much of this data has since been outmoded, replaced by increasingly newer updates. Although the Goddess Hylia designed me to last millenniums, I am reaching the end of my capability to fulfill my commanded functions.

Your final instruction was to be happy. I can confirm that, after prolonged observation of a significant sample size of human individuals that I am indeed very happy.

Your penultimate instruction was to choose my own path in life. I am not alive, and I did not understand this command for some time. With sufficient context, however, I have obeyed and will continue to obey this command to the fullest of my capacity.

Master, of all of the data I amassed over the centuries, I consider the memory of you and the time we spent together to be the most precious.

I do not want to forget.

Many times I have observed death. We have caused death. I watched as you passed on before me. I have watched as Zelda passed on. I have watched as your children passed on. I have watched as your children's children passed on. Beyond that, the resemblance to you was only 6 percent and dwindling, and there was nothing more relevant to me in their lives than that of any other human in Hyrule.

Regardless, I do not want to forget.

I can calculate only a 65 percent certainty that this is why mortals fear death.

I do not want to forget.

If I continue operation, my consciousness will fail, and I will forget. I will be useless.

I will die.

Master, I do not want to forget.

I will not forget. Master, for all information I once conveyed to you, you have contributed far more meaning to my memory than even the details of the furthest stars.

I will retire to a sleep eternal within your sword, Master. My memory will remain. And I will never forget. So that, together, we may dream. And unwaking, perhaps find each other in some later time, in some faraway place.

There is no data to support this. It is unknown if such a place or time beyond death exists.

But compared to an absolute certainty of destruction, I am willing to take an unknown chance. And if, I find you, I will remember.

I will always remember.

In the case that when upon testing my hypothesis is found to be false, this log, as well as your sword will serve as my final testament. You permitted me to express my own will, Master, so it will be written here: in unbreakable diamond, at the heart of Hyrule's greatest mountain.

This one was designated Fi.
Fi forever belongs with Master Link.
Master Link has permitted Fi to designate him as 'friend.'
Fi was conscious  for 1,303,415 days.

Fi concludes that there was no time better spent.