Link stared down toward the Sheikah Slate in his hand, zooming in and out of his map, trying to ascertain how far he'd gotten. He'd walked for quite some miles to get here, feeling his legs gradually cramp up from so much time of disuse. He'd traveled great distances his entire life, though being forced to reacquaint himself with a body that had no only been left inches to death, but one that had spent the last hundred years in, essentially, a vat of liquid. He reached down to massage his legs as he walked, his eyes unmoving from the small screen in his hands, finally figuring out where in Akkala he was.
He was hunting down the Akkala Ancient Tech Lab, on the orders of the old woman, Impa, he'd met back in Kakariko Village, who had also indulged him with rather incredible tales that he had apparently been a major player in, himself. Even now, having been instructed to make this trip on foot simply to offer himself time to reflect, his mind was awash with little to no recollection of anything beyond the last few days since awakening atop the Plateau. Link simply pressed on, figuring that, regardless of his current mental state, enough people had surmised that he was the right man for the job regardless- even the King of Hyrule himself, though he was but a ghost.
As he continued up the inclined hill that would ultimately lead him to the Tech Lab, he puffed breaths as his lungs churned heatedly, even his inner machinations needing the chance to warm up. His eyes looked up before him as he slid the Slate back into his pocket, scanning the immediate horizon as he admired the autumn foliage that waved in the breeze surrounding him. He couldn't help but enjoy the scenery, despite his unmoving face, his eyes merely jumping from one orange, brown tree to another as he continued treading carefully up the increasing height of Akkala.
Suddenly, as if it were a bout of déjà vu, Link paused, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed the road at his feet, an unmistakable feeling of himself having been here before nagging at some far-off tendon within his mind. He slid his foot along the dust below, as though in examination, before looking up again, turning his head as he took in the landscape all around him, finally setting on a slope to his left, leading directly to a gentle cliffside. He slowly left the road, reaching back to grab ahold of the wooden club in his possession, knowing even know that off the road, nothing but trouble awaited.
Out in the distance, he saw Bloodleaf Lake, a name found on his Slate, his mind slowly connecting with something far off and distant, as though he were connecting two objects beneath a workbench without the benefit of sight. Curious, he carefully slid down the sloping cliffside, walking toward the lake with skeptical eyes, noticing something of constructed material a bit farther down its banks. There, having continued along, he came across the worn wall of a home, left standing and decaying for what seemed like decades, left here to rot away without the attention of anybody.
Link curiously walked around the remnants of a home, most of the window still intact, just hanging on to the rest of the structure. He did his best to will his mind to remember what could have been an important memory, but after so long, his mind was little more than what it had become the last few days.
Wrapping around the side of the wall, his shoulders slacked as he noticed the decayed state of a bad there, broken in two, fated to the centuries just as the wall had been. His mind flashed along pictures of a golden-haired woman, but that was all he got from this place. His body turned, though his head remained until it nearly met his shoulder, a pang in his heart forcing him to regret being unable to recall this place. He knew, even now, it was something that shouldn't have ever been lost to the winds of time.
"I'll just return later…" he muttered to himself, gently pulling up his Slate and marking where he stood, his eyes flickering up from the screen toward the lonely structure as he did so.
He shook his head listlessly, completing his turn before sauntering up the hill, his shoulders still having not recovered their previous, postured shape, leaving behind what was left of somebody's home he was sure he'd known to some extent.
There it would remain, forever. Nary a soul to recount what had happened there a hundred years ago.
A/N: Thanks for reading :) Hope you enjoyed it.