Shadow of Calamity | Alternate Ending

Hello friends! I’ve got something a little darker for you this time.

In the Shadow of Calamity is a moody, grief-soaked AU that’s been living in my head, and now it’s yours too.

Thanks for reading! I’d love to hear your thoughts, so feel free to drop a comment and let me know what you think!

Shadow of Calamity

The battle was over. The Master Sword, broken and dull, lay discarded in the dust. Hyrule Castle burned in the distance, its towers crumbling under Calamity Ganon’s twisted malice. The hero, Link, had fallen, his lifeless body resting beneath the eerie glow of the Blood Moon. Zelda’s scream had rung through the battlefield, a final, heart-wrenching cry before the darkness swallowed her whole.

Ganon had won.

There was no one left to stop him, and thus his corruption spread wild. Malice oozed from the ruins of the castle, spreading across the land like a living plague. The fields of Hyrule, once golden and lush, blackened with decay. The rivers ran thick with poison, and the once-proud villages were abandoned, their inhabitants either dead or twisted into mindless creatures by Ganon’s influence. The few who survived fled deep underground, hiding in forgotten Sheikah shrines or the crumbling ruins of the old kingdom, whispering prayers that would never be answered.

Zelda had fought. Even as Ganon’s power consumed her, she had fought. But without the hero, without hope, her light flickered and died.

Now, she was no longer Zelda.

She drifted through the halls of Hyrule Castle, her bare feet never touching the ground. The air was thick with malice, the walls pulsing with its sickly glow. She felt it in every breath, in every movement, the weight of her new existence. She was bound to this place, shackled in body and soul to the demon who had taken everything from her.

And yet, somewhere deep inside, she still existed.

The whispers of Ganon’s corruption echoed in her mind, endless and inescapable.

You failed.

The hero is dead.

You belong to me now.

She had tried to resist. At first, she had screamed against it, had clawed at the walls of her own mind, desperate to fight back. But Ganon’s grip was absolute. With each passing day, his malice seeped further into her, twisting her thoughts, rewriting her purpose.

She had become his warden, a spectral queen ruling over a dead kingdom. The people of Hyrule, those who remained, whispered her name with fear, speaking of the ghostly figure that watched from the ruined castle, her eyes glowing with the same cursed light as the monster that ruled her.

Sometimes, she thought she could hear them. The survivors.

They were few, scattered across the wilds, clinging to life in the shadows of a lost kingdom.

But they were there.

And somewhere deep inside, something within Zelda ached.

She had tried to see them, to break free, even for a moment, but each time, the malice pulled her back. Ganon would not allow it.

He knew she still fought.

And so he tightened his grip, drowning her in darkness, forcing her to watch as Hyrule crumbled further. The Guardians patrolled without mercy, hunting down any who dared resist. The Divine Beasts raged against the land, destroying what little hope remained. The Yiga celebrated their victory, reveling in the chaos, offering sacrifices in her name as if she were their willing queen.

She was nothing but a puppet, a hollow shell dressed in black, her once-golden hair now a pale, ghostly white.

And yet, somewhere in the depths of her soul, a flicker remained.

A memory of her mother’s voice, soft and warm, reminding her that the power of the goddess was not just in destruction, but in renewal. A vision of Link, not as she had last seen him, broken and lifeless, but standing tall, determined, unyielding.

The smallest, most fragile ember of hope.

Ganon felt it. And he hated it.

He lashed out, flooding her with malice, trying to snuff it out.

But no matter how much darkness consumed her, the ember refused to go out.

Far from the castle, hidden in the depths of the Sheikah ruins, the last of the resistance gathered.

They were few, too few, but they had survived.

Renza, a young warrior and the last of Impa’s bloodline, studied the ancient Sheikah texts before her. The records spoke of cycles, of destruction, of rebirth. The hero always fell, but he always returned.

But this time, there was no hero.

Link was dead. The Master Sword lay shattered. Zelda had been consumed.

And still, they fought.

Because if Zelda was still in there, if any part of her still remained, they would find a way to bring her back.

Even in this new Age of Calamity, they would not let the legend die.