Zelda: Breath of the Wild - Entry 26: Thunder Helm

The last time I spoke with Gerudo Chief Riju, she had tasked me with infiltrating the Yiga Clan's hideout to recover her stolen heirloom… and I had failed. I couldn’t return to her empty-handed. I had to prove my worth.

So I set my course back to the place I had been forced to flee—the Yiga Clan's hideout in Karusa Valley.

This time, when I entered the valley, I was ready. Yiga footsoldiers ambushed me, but I was the better warrior. With swift precision, I loosed ice arrows, freezing them before they could vanish into thin air. Unable to escape, they fell one by one.

At the end of the canyon, concealed behind an unassuming rock face, lay the entrance to their lair. Inside, a vast underground stronghold stretched before me, dimly lit by flickering torches. The air was thick with danger. At first, the entrance led to what appeared to be a dead end—until I uncovered a hidden passage behind a tattered banner and stacked wooden crates.

Moving as silently as possible, I slipped deeper into the hideout, my Sheikah armor granting me the stealth I needed. At the end of the passage, I found her—Barta, the missing Gerudo guard. She was trapped in a prison cell, her expression weary but defiant.

“I’m here to help,” I whispered. “I’ll get you out of here.”

Grateful, she shared what little she had learned of the Yiga Clan’s weaknesses. “They’re obsessed with mighty bananas,” she told me. “You might be able to use that to your advantage.”

It didn’t take long to confirm the truth of her words. The hideout was crawling with Yiga Blademasters, warriors far stronger than the footsoldiers I had faced before. If they spotted me, I wouldn’t stand a chance in direct combat with all them. My only hope was stealth.

Moving through the shadows, I evaded their patrols, careful not to make a sound. When a guard blocked my path, I reached into my pack, pulled out a mighty banana, and tossed it ahead. Immediately, the warrior abandoned his post, drawn to the fruit like a moth to flame.

Bananas. The mighty Yiga Clan, feared across Hyrule—obsessed with fruit.

Through patience and quick thinking, I made my way deeper inside, avoiding detection until I reached a chamber filled with treasure chests. At first, it seemed like a dead end. I searched every chest, hoping to find the Gerudo heirloom, but it was nowhere to be seen.

Something felt off. Trusting my instincts, I scanned the room more carefully and soon uncovered a secret door, hidden but manipulatable with Magnesis. With a pull of my Sheikah Slate, the passage opened, revealing a vast, open canyon—a massive pit yawning at its center.

As I stepped forward, I came face-to-face with their leader—Master Kohga.

Unlike his subordinates, he was… different. Arrogant, boastful, and utterly convinced of his own brilliance. He laughed, relishing the moment, proclaiming that the Yiga Clan had scoured Hyrule for me—yet here I was, standing in their very hideout.

He challenged me to battle.

With a dramatic flourish, he summoned spiked boulders, hurling them my way with his magic. But his attacks left him exposed—each time he struggled to control his own power, I struck with well-placed arrows. The battle quickly turned into a spectacle of his own making, as he clumsily miscalculated and sent his own boulders crashing down upon himself.

Realizing he was losing, his desperation grew. With a furious shout, he called upon all his power, summoning an enormous boulder—one he could barely control. But in his arrogance, he had overreached. The weight of his own magic became his undoing, sending him tumbling into the abyss below, his final, indignant cries echoing through the cavern.

In the silence that followed, I searched the area. There, resting within a chest, was the Thunder Helm.

With Kohga gone, the remaining Yiga scattered, their once-feared hideout now abandoned. This gave Barta the chance to escape, her captivity finally over.

But I knew this wasn’t the end. The Yiga Clan wouldn’t stay quiet forever. They would continue lurking in the shadows, watching, waiting—plotting their revenge.

I returned to Gerudo Town late at night, exhausted but relieved. Rather than disturbing Chief Riju, who was surely asleep, I checked into the inn, knowing that my task could wait until morning.

At dawn, I made my way to the throne room, the Thunder Helm secured in my possession. But when I arrived, Riju was nowhere to be found. To my surprise, the guards granted me a rare privilege—they allowed me to proceed to her private chambers.

As I ascended the stairs, I saw her standing at the landing above, gazing out over Gerudo Town. From this vantage point, she could see everything—the bustling marketplace, the towering walls, the people who looked to her for leadership.

When she turned to me, her expression was calm, but her voice carried a quiet weight.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” she said. “And I know you have it. I can feel its power.”

She was talking about the Thunder Helm, but there was something deeper in her words. As I stepped closer, she finally let down her guard.

She spoke of her doubts—of how, after the sudden loss of her mother, she had felt unprepared to lead. She knew the people of Gerudo Town cared for her, and she wanted to be the chief they deserved. But she couldn’t shake the guilt, the belief that her inexperience had led to the heirloom being stolen in the first place.

Without a word, I held out the Thunder Helm. She took it carefully, and as she placed it upon her head, I felt something shift—within her, within this place, within me.

And then, my mind was no longer in the present.

The world around me blurred, and suddenly, I stood upon the Divine Beast Vah Naboris. Urbosa was there, watching over Princess Zelda, who lay asleep in her arms, exhausted from the day’s trials.

The night winds howled across the desert, but here, aboard the Divine Beast, there was warmth.

Urbosa turned her gaze to me. “So,” she mused, “you’ve been her knight for a little while now. How’s it going?”

I didn’t answer, but she read the silence as if I had spoken aloud. Her piercing intuition saw straight through me.

“The princess’s frustration isn’t with you,” she said gently. “It’s with herself.”

She looked down at Zelda, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Seeing you wield the Master Sword reminds her of what she believes she lacks. She works tirelessly, pushing herself beyond exhaustion, yet still… her power does not awaken.”

Urbosa’s voice softened. “But she is special, Link. She carries a burden greater than most could ever bear. And that is why you must protect her with your life.”

I could see why Zelda admired Urbosa—she was more than just a warrior. She was wise, perceptive, and above all, she cared deeply.

Then, a smirk tugged at her lips. “Now,” she said, amusement flickering in her eyes, “as for waking her up…”

With a snap of her fingers, lightning cracked across the sky, a blinding flash illuminating the desert.

Zelda bolted upright with a startled gasp.

Urbosa chuckled, satisfied with her work.

The memory faded, the past slipping away like sand in the wind.When my mind returned to the present, Riju was watching me. She knew my thoughts had drifted, but she didn’t pry. Instead, she shifted her focus to what mattered most.

Her voice was calm but laced with worry. “Vah Naboris is growing more violent. If we don’t act soon, the entire town could be in danger.”

She met my gaze, searching for my resolve. “Will you help me?”

I didn’t hesitate. “Of course.”

Satisfied with my answer, she nodded. “Meet me at Lookout Tower just outside the city. From there, we’ll begin our approach. You’ll need a Sand Seal to keep up with me, and I’ll explain my plan once you arrive.”

Now alone in her chambers, my eyes fell upon an open journal on a nearby table. I hesitated—but curiosity got the better of me.

Skimming through its pages, I glimpsed the weight she carried. Riju was young, yet she bore the responsibility of an entire people. Every word reflected her desire to prove herself as a worthy leader, despite the doubts that came with her age.

One entry stood out.

She had tried to confront Naboris herself once—an attempt to show her strength. But the Divine Beast struck her down, and that was why Buliara, her personal guard, never left her side. It wasn’t just duty—it was guilt.

I closed the journal, understanding Riju more than before. She wasn’t just leading because she had to. She wanted to be strong for her people.