"That's Hestu—you can't see him. Don't hurt him." He's organising his pouches and unfurling his paraglider. "I'm going down. Last time we could leave on foot, up to you if you're coming. It's safe."

Cam powers off the drone's engines. "Who's Hetsu?"

"Forest spirit. There's a lot down there but most people can't see them."

"I certainly can't. Will it be useful in any way for me to come with you? Are you going to just walk out and want to be picked up on the edge of the forest, or I guess I could drop you a rope ladder?"

Link shrugs. "The spirits might teach you something."

"If I can't see them? Seems tricky. I'll stay up here and drop you a ladder, here, take a transmitter in case the drone gets squashed or something."

"Sure." He will take the transmitter and go for the door.

Cam hovers the shuttle. Drops the ladder.

Link jumps out and drops like a rock through the dense canopy.

The drone is still pinned firmly on the forest floor, rocking occasionally to and fro, when enough time passes for Link's tramping footsteps to come within hearing range.

He's still out of view, but his voice carries: "Hestu!"

The drone rocks one last time before the force holding it down lifts.

There's a rustling of leaves, a passing breeze in the trees. Carried on it is almost a faint musical rattling.

"It's a friend."

Fallen leaves swirl on the ground.

Link steps in view of the drone.

"Can you talk?" He's addressing the camera.

"The drone has a microphone, yes," says the drone.

"There," Link tells the empty air. "Friendly."

The view jolts a bit, as if struck lightly.

"I do. In a moment. Do you know why the sword..."

He glances over at the pedestal, then up higher, at somewhere past it.

Some of the wood and fallen trees that surround the glade in which rests the Master Sword are not, on close inspection, trees. They're gargantuan roots—rows and arches flowing over each other, drawing from all directions towards the great tree from which they spring: an ancient, colossal oak so beggaring of imagination that the eye glosses over it on first glance.

Its trunk is a wall of old bark that one must crane their head up to see the height of. It rises high up and above the treetops as if to scrape the sky; its grand foliage reached afar must cast acres in gentle shade. Falling cherry blossoms dance in the sunrays, adrift on a wind that seems to whisper secrets to one who listens. The shadow beneath the great branches feels once quiet and still and yet alive with secret power.

Link's legs carry him towards the sword, towards the tree. The drone doesn't have a good angle on him from the floor.

What does the transmitter see?

Link's almost at the sword, which looks as ethereal up close, if not more, but he's looking up at the tree, squinting, as if trying to remember something.

He reaches for the sword slowly, with one hand, then with both, hovering just inches from the handle.

And he grasps it.

His eyes snap to the sword, tree forgotten.

The forest seems to rumble, even all the way in the air where Cam is watching, flocks of birds startled to flight outside the windows.

And Link stumbles back, stunned.