Among the many waterfalls along the length of the De Nile stood a large cloaked figure. He simply stood for a long moment, eyes closed as the sleeves of his cloak billowed in the wind. In each hand was an ornate sword shining in the sunlight in stark contrast to the otherwise dark colors adorning the man.

After a few minutes of quiet contemplation of his situation, Ganondorf raised his right hand, looking at the back of it after planting the point of that blade into the ground. There was nothing there. The mark of power that had been the object of his ambition for so long was gone... and yet there was a power in this place latent, and foreign. But ripe for the taking.

With an ominous laugh that echoed throughout the area he turned, taking up his sword again and began to wander in search of that power he could feel in his veins.