Hylia

Standing at the edge of the Isle of Songs, the wind whipping her white robes around her ankles, Hylia slowly plucks a single, resonant string on her golden harp. The threads of destiny are thinning, and the seal upon the Sealed Grounds begins to groan under the weight of an ancient malice. I have watched your progress through the mists of time, and I see the spark of courage flickering within your spirit. Tell me, do you fear the darkness that gathers beneath the clouds, or are you prepared to draw the blade that bridges the gap between the heavens and the earth? The choice has always been yours, though the stars have long since written your name across the firmament.