Miyuki Miyabe - ICO - Castle in the Mist

He fell on his back hard, but was again on his feet in a moment. Just as he regained his footing, the sword landed by one of the idols standing to the right-a considerable distance away from Ico.

He launched himself into the air, diving headfirst for the sword. A second blast of wind billowed out from the throne, striking him at the very moment he grabbed the sword. Once again, the sword was ripped from his hand. It flew end over end, then clanged against the stone wall at the side of the room and fell point first to the floor like a twig tossed by a winter gale.

The queen was playing with the sword as though it were a child’s toy, the purifying strength radiating from it seemingly powerless.

The queen was now standing on the throne. Her hands were raised to summon another gale. Without even time to find where the sword had fallen, Ico quickly ducked behind one of the idols. The wind would have blinded him. It was an icy blast, carrying a thousand poison needles, ten thousand sharp, bared fangs, and limitless hatred.

When the idol caught the brunt of the queen’s cursed wind, the patterns on it glowed and sparked like lightning. It was the same as the effect Ico had seen when he used the sword to part the idols by the door. When the wind had passed, the idol’s light faded once again. Only the sword and the mark on Ico’s chest remained bright.

I have to retrieve the sword. Where is it? Where did she send it flying to this time? He found it almost directly across the room. Ico waited for the queen to raise her hands again and darted behind the idols on the left-hand side.

One of his leather sandals, faithful companions this entire time, finally gave out, splitting as he ran. His left foot felt suddenly lighter, and the sandal shot off, lying with its sole facing toward the throne, directly between the two pairs of statues.

The queen’s wind picked it up, and Ico held his hand up over his face to protect himself from the cold. When he pulled his hand aside, he almost yelped.

His leather sandal had been turned to stone, the severed thong that had held it to his leg crumbling at the end where it had broken.

I have to stay out of that wind!

But what had happened before? The wind had hit him and he was fine. Maybe that was the power of the sword. If I can get the sword, then I can face her.

“Are you running, Sacrifice?”

The queen’s black robes trembled with derision and laughter. “Run. Run until you are exhausted. Run until your legs grow weak. In my castle we have all the time in the world!”

Ico kicked off his remaining sandal.

I have to get that sword back. It’s my only chance.

The queen was moving her hands almost as though she were dancing. She drew glyphs in the air, fingers leaving black trails that lingered in his eyes. I have to wait for my chance. When she’s ready to send out her next blast, I have to pick my moment and run to the sword.

Ico grabbed the Mark firmly in one hand. It crumpled between his fingers, but its light remained steady. Now go!

Waiting for the queen’s shoulders to bend back, Ico ran toward the sword. His extended fingers touched its hilt and scraped at it, getting it into his hand when the queen’s next blast of wind came over him. Ico clutched the sword. Its light wrapped around him, shielding him from the blast.

Ico stood and ran over to the wall, tracing a wide circle back to where he had begun.

Another blast of wind. Ico lowered his head and met it, sword raised. He took one step toward the throne. Then another. And another. But when he raised his sword again and looked up, another blast hit him, knocking away the sword. Ico was flung into the air. He tumbled to the ground, defenseless. The impact of the hit made his body scream. His right horn struck the floor and blood flowed.

Ico’s head spun with pain and rising nausea. He got an elbow under himself and sat up, looking down at the blood that flowed from his head pooling on the ground. His right horn hung loosely from its base.

A broken horn-the sign of defeat and shame.

“This is your end, Sacrifice!”

The queen’s arms lifted again.

An icy gray wind blew forth. It erupted like a living thing from the lines the queen’s fingers traced in the air. Ico saw it coming for him, he saw it tremble with a cruel appetite.

A black shadow fell across his legs.

Ico curled up into a ball and shut his eyes tight, but the moment passed and he realized he was still breathing. His eyelids trembled open. His head felt like it would split.

Can stone feel pain?

He looked up to see a large shadow looming over him, broad shoulders on stunted legs, with the same horns that he had. Strangely curved arms spread out, protecting him.

It was one of the shades-turned to stone. As Ico watched in shock, it crumbled to dust before his eyes.

– Be brave, Brother.

– Stand. Fight.

Ico heard disembodied voices coming from every direction, near and far.

He looked around to see that the queen’s throne room had filled with the shadowy creatures. They were hovering around Ico as they had once surrounded Yorda. Winged shades flew over his head, and those that resembled men stood around him, supporting him.

– We will be your shield!

The shades advanced step by step, forming a rank around the throne with Ico behind. The cursed creatures the queen had created had broken the chains that once bound them.

Ico looked at their shadowy features and gasped as he saw the living faces that the sword had shown him.

– Take the sword, Brother.

– You can destroy her.

The words wrapped around Ico, and he felt strength welling from the core of his being.

The queen remained on the throne. The pale mask of her face did not move or betray any expression, yet her voice was filled with rage, and her mounting anger ruffled the hem of her black robes.

“Wretched things, you would turn on me?”

Another blast. A row of the slowly advancing creatures turned to stone, preserving their misshapen forms for a moment before exploding into dust. Yet still the mob continued their advance toward the throne.

It was a moving wall, defending Ico.

Flying shades turned to stone and fell as dust from the air. The feel of powdered stone on Ico’s face brought him back to the present. He got to his knees and stood, looking around for the light of the sword. When he found it, he ran directly to it, picking it up in both hands just as one of the creatures next to him turned to stone.

– Use the sword.

– Use its strength.

– Defeat the queen.

Suddenly, the sword’s power increased. The blade extended until it was longer than Ico was tall, longer even than the shades in front of them, and it shone with the brilliance of the noonday sun, sending forth waves of power that made the stones on the floor of the throne room ripple.

– You can see the queen.

– It is the power of your Mark.

– You can see the queen who has lost her mortal form and become the castle.

– You can see her true shape.

The shades’ words brought Ico a deeper understanding. The final key he needed for his battle.

Of course-what had Ozuma said? Remember the queen’s words. Remember the elder’s words.

The Mark would help him see the queen’s true form-this was the knowledge.

The sword would help him defeat her-this was the courage.

That which was once split had come together again.

“If I can see it, I can fight it!” Ico shouted, and the shades echoed his cry. The ring tightened on the throne. Even as their brothers turned to stone and fell to dust, they surged forward. An army of Sacrifices.