Michael
The Lost Woods kept many secrets mired in its dense mist and labyrinthine environment. Who knew what lay here? Ruins of bygone civilizations, terrible creatures yet unseen, or even small communities of the tricksy korok. However, there was one secret which had only just made its home here not too long ago. Yet, like everything else, it felt just as ancient and just as dark.

In the forest-engulfed ruins of a decrepit castle, a crooked, dark blade rested in bushes of thorns. Nothing dared touch it, not even the various monsters that were drawn to the site. They would come and leave, beckoned as if in a trance but leaving with great fear in their hearts. 

The sword itself was massive in size, bigger than what even a goron could manage. It's craftsmanship was entirely indecipherable, ancient beyond recorded history. Only those who have seen it would compare it to the Master Sword, albeit as a broken reflection. 

It was here, shrouded in mist and darkness, that the sword laid waiting as faint whispers floated through the air. They could barely be made out by the observant ear.

*Demise... Demise...*
Darlene
The moment the Sheikah had figured out how to walk on two legs again, he'd vanished deep into the nearby forest. The fact it was shrouded by mist didn't seem to bother him at all; in fact, he preferred it, because it meant he could hide. It wasn't open, which was good. 

The past few hours had been mostly trying to figure out how to work his body again. He was weaker, slower, and altogether far clumsier as a person than a leopard, and he found himself mourning the loss of his feline body. He didn't know why he was a person or where he was. He didn't know why he'd lost his fur and claws and fangs.

His memory was hazy, with only small fragments breaking through. He was a person... A Sheikah. That meant he served the King. But who was the King? *Where* Was the King? He didn't remember. But he needed to find the King.

He didn't think the King was in this forest, but his instincts screamed at him to hide and to hunt first. He needed to regain strength. 

So he'd caught a bird. It was harder now, but he'd eventually figured out he could instinctively use the sword on his side if he just didn't think about it. He was fine not thinking about it; he didn't like these complex thoughts, hurting him, confusing him. 

So he crouched now, tearing into the raw meat with much duller teeth, not really caring that it was raw and bloody. That was how he'd always eaten. Or what he remembered eating. Food was food. 

*Demise...*

The Sheikah froze, ears twitching. What was *That*? He tilted his head, straining to hear, once more lamenting the loss of his enhanced senses as a leopard. 

...Demise? What was a demise? 

Was it the King?

He sprung to his feet, half-eaten bird forgotten, and sprinted toward the sound beckoning him. It wasn't long before he came across what his mind could recognize as a sword. 

He cautiously approached it, stepping as silently as he had when he'd been a leopard. Curiously, he reached out and poked it.
Michael
*Tap tap*

Hm? What was that? 

For the first time in what felt like centuries, Ghirahim was aware. He had no idea where he was or what had happened. All he remembered was his master defeated... Cursing his enemies as he faded away. Slowly, he came back into consciousness and with it came all the bitter, frustrating memories. 

*Demise defeated? Impossible! He could never... He wouldn't...*

The denial was enough to spark Ghirahim's rage, unleashing an anguished cry in the dark abyss fading around him. Surely, he was still able to avenge his master?! He could beat that hero this time... With the sweet desire for revenge fueling him! 

The sword began to glow a corrupted hue, flashing back and forth between a humanoid figure and the mysterious blade right before Kurran's eyes! Suddenly, a burst of dark energy erupted, sending shockwaves as the glowing began to settle down. 

In place of the blade, a dark crystalline figure rose from the thorns. What appeared to be cracks began to spread throughout his body, forming a more familiar visage. The figure now resembled a Hylian... Although something was off. His skin was a pale grey and his short hair was a bold white, very much like the Sheikah. Purple eyeshadow, white lips, and crystal earrings completed the look alongside a tight fitting, slightly revealing white outfit. 

Ghirahim's eyes shot open as he dashed forward and grabbed Kurran's throat, lifting him up. However, the demon lord hesitated to crush Kurran then and there. This obviously wasn't Link... And clearly he wasn't where he last remembered being. This forest... Was he back on the Surface?

Ghirahim's grip tightened, his lips curling into a scowl. So many questions... And here he was with a stranger who reminded him of that annoying protector, Impa. 

"Well... You're not who I was expecting. Mind telling me who you are and where I am before I slit your throat, handsome?~"
Darlene
If he were still a leopard, he'd have been bristling. As it were, he still shrieked in a way that sounded eerily similar to a large cat's yowl, and he tried to leap back, only to find himself caught by the strange creature that had come out of nowhere. The sword was nowhere to be seen, and the Sheikah's confused, racing mind didn't connect that this creature *Had* Been the sword. 

*Danger! Flee! Hide!*

His instincts took over, washing away all rational thought. He thrashed much like a wild animal would, hissing and growling, only to find he couldn't break free.

*Fight! Escape!*

The Sheikah, red eyes as wild and feral as any concerned animal, growled and attempted to kick at the predator holding him, wishing he could rip into strange grey skin with sharpened claws. 

Every instinct screamed at him to bite the damned thing, but he couldn't. He wasn't *Strong* Anymore; he was frail, weak, vulnerable. 

Prey.

*No! Never prey! Hunter!*

He could fill an odd chill at the tips of his fingers and reacted without thinking; a hand shot up to grip the creature's arms, and the Sheikah's hand grew colder and colder. Soon, frost crept from his hand onto the creature's arm, so cold it should burn, yet it didn't bother the Sheikah. 

"You... *Let... Go*...!" He hissed, voice guttural and fragmented from having not used it for so long.
Michael
Demise always hated to see his victims cower before him. Ghirahim was the opposite, reveling in the pleas for mercy and the scrambling for whatever moments they had left. It was a sweet sight to wake up to as Kurran struggled in his grip, causing Ghirahim's smile to grow. It was enough to make the sword spirit giddy as soft giggles came from him.

"Red eyes. White hair... Ah, you must be a Sheikah! How delightful... I *Despise* The Sheikah".

The Sheikah were here? Was this one sent to destroy him while he was vulnerable? Kurran's presence only raised more questions than answers. Plus, the Sheikah didn't seem to be very willing to answer them. 

"The longer you keep your mouth shut the more I want to kill y- AH!"

Ghirahim felt his arm being grasped, followed by a sharp burn. It wasn't fire... It was cold! The sword spirit dropped Kurran and recoiled slightly, but easily recomposed himself. No major damage... It would take a lot more to truly harm a being such as him. 

*Such defiance reminded him of a certain, pesky little brat...*

"Tsk, that was very naughty of you! I was actually being quite *Merciful* Just then... But you're making this EXTREMELY difficult!!" 

Ghirahim let out a fed-up cackle, an elegant blade forming in his hand. He took a deep breath, running his other hand through his short white hair, brushing it to the side with a certain stylish panache. His gaze focused coldly back on Kurran. 

"No matter. I like it when they choose the hard way~."
Darlene
He coughed, one hand rubbing his throat as he struggled to catch his breath. His mind raced, instincts warring with thought.

*Run! Run now! Hide!*

He looked up, teeth pulling back in a snarl. This was a predator unlike any other. He didn't know how to react, and he didn't like that. The unknown was dangerous. The unknown killed you. 

*Sheikah? I am... Sheikah?*

Why was that so familiar?

Images flashed. People with white hair and red eyes. Himself? Yes, that was he... He was dressed in metal?

*Armor. Hunter. Warrior.*

Something clicked and settled. The Sheikah stood, glaring at the creature before him. 

*Demon*, his mind whispered. A demon. He was... Supposed to hunt demons. 

"Demon," He growled, and his instincts bade him to reach for the sword at his side. "I... Remember. Hunted your kind... For so long."

How long? He couldn't remember. First with steel... Then with claws and teeth. Person or leopard... He was a hunter. And demons were his prey. 

But something held him back. Though he kept a hand on the hilt of his sword, he made no move to draw the blade. There was something... About this demon that was different. 

"...Why... Are you... Here?"

He spoke slowly, carefully, as if it was a struggle to speak in full sentences. 

"What... Do you... Want?"
Michael
Ghirahim's grin dropped into an annoyed frown. Just when he was getting all worked up for a duel, the Sheikah decided to open his mouth. 

*Hmph, what a tease...* 

Still, something was off about this man. He was confused, off center, completely unprepared. This was nothing like the Sheikah Ghirahim knew, so either this was just one really bad assassin *Or* Something was wrong. The answer lay in the Sheikah's words: *"I remember..."*

Ghirahim's eyes widened in realization. His assassin had no idea who he was and wasn't here for Ghirahim at all. Ghirahim laughed at the irony of it all, shaking his head.

"My my my... Can this be? An assassin who doesn't even know his own mission? Or, if I may be so bold, doesn't even know himself? The Sheikah clan has surely fallen far these past... Centuries? I assume that's how long it's been..." 

Ghirahim lowered his blade, putting the point to the ground and resting his hand on the hilt. 

"Truth be told, I have no idea why I'm here and I'm not entirely certain what I desire... Perhaps, after I've drenched my blade with some innocent blood, I'll start getting an idea."

Ghirahim's eyes drifted, catching the sword Kurran had on him. He immediately grew interested, a smile of genuine excitement growing on his lips. 

"Oh! I see you're also a swordsman! If I had to guess... You carry an *Odachi*? I'm not a fan of them personally... Too large and quite impractical... But I can see the appeal behind them. Not a bad choice for butchering large animals..."

Ghirahim's tone was oddly cordial, as if showing some sort of respect towards a fellow 'professional'. He still had his arrogance, checking his nails as he indirectly spoke to Kurran. However, he glanced at Kurran and grinned mischievously.

"Allow me to introduce myself. I am Lord Ghirahim. I'd say it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance but I'd be lying. Sorry handsome... Ancient enemies and all that~"
Darlene
He flinched. The demon's words were true. He didn't know who he was or why he was here. The only thing he knew was he was a friend, a servant. He wished his friend was here right now to tell him what to do, but he wasn't sure where his friend was. He'd lost him when he'd gone off to hunt food...

He needed to find his friend, but first...

He stared at the demon, mind attempting to process everything the demon said. Sword... Man? Is that... Also what he was? He was a hunter without claws and fangs... So maybe he hunted with a sword. 

He chewed his lip, decided the demon wasn't going to attack him, and stood up straight, taking his hand off the sword's hilt. Getting into a fight he didn't know if he would win wasn't something was interested in. 

"Lord... Ghir... Ah... Him." He said it slowly, trying to adjust again to speaking complicated words. Had he ever hunted a Ghirahim? ...He didn't think so.

"...I am... A hunter... A servant." He glanced down at the sword on his side. "...A swordsman. And... A friend. But my friend is not here."

He *Really* Wished his friend was here. He didn't know what to do with this Ghirahim. 

He tilted his head, studying the demon. ...Pretty. The demon was very pretty. Had he ever seen a *Pretty* Demon? He couldn't remember. 

"...I don't... Know my name. I don't know... Who I am." Ghirahim had seen to figure that out... And he'd called him 'Sheikah'. Did *He* Know who Friend was? 

"...I don't... Know where we are. I don't... Remember much. I don't remember... A pretty demon... So I don't think... I hunted you."

With that, he held no desire to attack Ghirahim. He didn't remember hunting him, so he didn't think he *Had*. So he probably didn't need to. 

"...Do you know what I am? If you tell me... I will serve you too."

It would be... Helpful if Ghirahim knew. If Ghirahim could tell him... Then maybe he would help Ghirahim too. With whatever the demon wanted. A 'lord' wanted to be served, didn't he? He could serve very well, he w