Miyuki Miyabe - ICO - Castle in the Mist

The branches of the willow trees in the courtyard swayed like a maiden’s hair, brushing against the inner walls of the castle as they began to crumble. Gravestones toppled and split or were swallowed into the ground as coffins were spat out onto the grass.

Waves passed along the water filling the underground jail, and the copper pipes running through the castle boomed with echoing noise, sounding like bells tolling the doom of the castle. Water sprayed from cracks in the pipes, flowing down into the earth.

Gray dust rose up, mingling with the white mist that floated around the castle grounds. Wrapped in its veil, the towers of the castle leaned and toppled. They fell to the inside and to the outside, new rubble falling upon old.

By the giant waterfall, the chains of the eight hanging cages split one by one, and the cages plunged into the water far below. The water increased in volume, sending up a terrific spray notable for its absence of rainbows. Their purpose voided, the cages sank below the water.

Towers in the east, west, and main keep collapsed, as though the castle had been nothing more than a painting upon a folding screen that was now being put away by giant hands.

The last thing remaining was the main gate, the only path to the outside world, and the Tower of Winds that had stood so long and seen so much darkness.

We are ending. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

Then the main gate and the Tower of Winds leaned and began to topple beneath the scarlet sky of evening, above the indigo blue of the waves. When the Tower of Winds fell, the statue of Ozuma still stood at the end of the old stone bridge, looking up at it. As the outer wall of the tower came crumbling down, the half of the stone bridge closest to it gave way under the weight of the rubble. The anchorage of the other side crumbled, and the rest of the bridge was pulled down by the collapsing castle, bowing down into the waves far below.

Yet the stone Ozuma did not shatter, did not crumble, did not break. The only thing he'd lost in his long years of penitence had been a single horn. When the bridge collapsed behind him, and the stone parapet began to topple, the statue faced up toward the top of the tower, and stone from its walls fell down on his face.

Legs still attached to a piece of the stone, the statue of Ozuma plummeted toward the sea, the Tower of Winds and the Castle in the Mist following behind him. Ozuma, the wandering knight, the horned challenger, protector of the land. Once again, his black cloak fluttered in the wind, as he led the castle’s charge toward oblivion. The charge from which no one would return. A charge toward freedom.

The sky and sea watched all. Between them, the castle gently crumbled away to stone and grass, and the mist rose from the land.

At the same moment, far off in the capital, an unseen surge of energy stirred through the hall where the priests had gathered for their vespers, blowing the hoods from their heads. The nobles lost their crowns to a sudden gale, while the soldiers’ helmets flew from their heads and rolled across the ground.

In the center of the capital, in the great temple to the Sun God, every bell began to ring though there was no one there to sound them. The people of the capital looked fearfully at one another and up toward the sky, listening to the sound of the bells. Though no command was given, nor any decree issued, one by one, the people dropped to their knees and began to pray.

In the forgotten walled city to the north of the Forbidden Mountains the long curse was at an end, and time began to move once again. The stone bodies of the people began to crumble, and the wind whipped up their dust into the sky. After enduring an eternity of silence, their souls were finally free.

As the stones of the city returned to the flow of time, they withered to dust in an instant.

Yet among them, there was a single breath of life. A sheen returned to the hair of Arrow Wind’s coat. His mane rippled, and he snorted. Freed from his stone prison, the horse stomped his hooves and looked around for the little hunter who had ridden him into this place.

Turning his nose into the wind, he searched for the scent of home. The sun was low in the sky. He needed to find his young but brave rider and make sure he was all right.

Arrow Wind kicked with his hooves and broke into a gallop straight across the empty plains where the walled city had once stood.

The elder was tired. His body couldn’t keep up with his eager mind-a common lament of old age. He dreamt at his desk, the Book of Light beside his head.

In his dream, he saw an unknown place far in the distance. There, a great light blazed and within it, a dark form was toppling, though its shape was beyond his ability to comprehend.

“Are you in there?” Oneh called from outside. The elder sat upright in his chair. The window by his desk was lit by the evening sun. His eyes fell on the Book of Light on the desk, with his hand resting next to it.

“Are you there? It’s Toto!”

The elder ran from his home and clasped Oneh in his arms. Her weathered, beautiful face was filled with joy, and tears wet her cheeks. “Toto’s awake!”

Hand in hand, they ran to the house where Toto lay. Villagers were running down the street, asking if the news was true. The elder pushed through them, keeping hold of his wife’s hand.

Beyond the simple wooden door, someone was crying out loud-Toto’s mother. He could hear Toto’s brothers and sisters calling his name.

Legs trembling, the elder stepped inside.

Toto, no longer stone, was lying on the bed his father had crafted out of wood for him. His mother was hugging him. Toto clutched her shawl, eyes wide.

“Toto!” the elder called out.

The boy’s cheeks were sunken and his lips dry and cracked. The air coming out of his nose was thin, and far too weak. But his eyes sparkled with life. “Elder, I…I-” Toto’s eyebrows sank, and his mouth curled into a frown. His cheek twitched. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you.”

The elder and the boy’s mother hugged him tight as he cried.

“Elder?” Toto asked through his tears. “Where’s Ico? Did he go to the castle? Did he leave me? I didn’t want him to be alone.”

Tears filled the elder’s eyes. Hugging the boy, he looked up at Oneh beside them and found the same conviction in her eyes that he felt in his own heart.

“It’s all right,” the elder said, hand on Toto’s head. “Ico’s done it. He’ll be back soon. Back home.”

Who could be singing a lullaby so gently with a voice so sweet? Whose fingers stroke my hair? Why does the soft pillow beneath my cheek smell of the familiar hay of Toksa Village?

Where am I?

Ico had been dreaming a very long time. Now it was time to awaken. He could see the light against his closed eyelids. It was morning. Soon he would hear his foster mother’s voice. Wake up, Ico. The sun’s going to leave you behind if you don’t get out of bed.

He opened his eyes, though his senses were still asleep. Facedown against his pillow, he stretched his arms and legs. Whatever he was lying on, it felt great. Soft with the warmth of sunshine.

The lullaby continued, rising higher then lower, tickling his ears.

It was the sound of the waves. The song the waves make as they sweep up and down the shore.

Ico opened his eyes.

Still lying on the ground, he tried moving his arms. His fingertips touched something granular. He brought them up to his face and saw flecks of white sand clinging to the skin.

He could smell the sea now.

Ico sat up and saw he was lying on a white beach that seemed to stretch on for an eternity. The sun shone bright down the long curve of sand.