ICO: Castle in the Mist

1

THEY HAD REACHED the edge of the forest.

Birds chittered in the sunlight, and from somewhere high above came the keening screech of a falcon chasing its prey.

Two weathered stone columns stood under the dappled light that filtered through the leaves at the wood’s edge. The track of lightly trodden ground they had been following ended here in a stone stair that led into the clearing.

The guard in front urged his horse forward, and his mount’s hooves made a loud clack-clack on the stone. The steps were weathered at the edges. Some of the stones were covered by moss, and others were missing altogether, but there was no doubt they had been placed there by human hands.

The horse bearing Ico and the priest followed, its bridle rattling, a sheen of sweat on its neck. The three horses stood side by side on the cracked stone terrace they found atop the stairs. Ico squinted in the bright sunlight, feeling a gentle breeze against his face. A sudden dizziness came over Ico as he realized that they stood at the very top of an incredibly high precipice overlooking the sea.

Far below, the water glinted in the sun. It was Ico’s first time at the sea-but he had no eyes for the gentle flow of the current or the sparkle of the white waves that crashed along the cliff base. The water was a mere inlet, and all of Ico’s attention was focused on what lay on the other side atop another cliff just like the one on which they stood.

A massive castle of giant rough-hewn stones, a dark silhouette against the crystal blue sky, dominating the view. The castle did not perch so much as grow from the cliff face as though it had been carved from the stone itself. It was almost as if some aberration of nature had caused the rock to erode into the shape of a castle that men might construct. It looked solid. The only curves in its construction were the elegantly sloping pillars that supported the outer wall, their bases planted firmly beneath the waves.

Ico couldn’t imagine something looking more different than the Castle in the Mist he had seen in his daydreams and nightmares. Perhaps it was the clear blue sky above or the merry sound of the songbirds in the trees. Still, there was nothing dark, terrifying, or even vaguely ominous about the castle atop the cliffs. It was beautiful, elegant even-an ancient, noble edifice.

“So this is it…” the guard with the upturned horns on his helmet breathed.

The horse carrying the priest and Ico whinnied and raised its front legs, bringing Ico’s attention back across the water. A strong sea wind blew, rippling the edges of the Mark where it hung over his chest and back. On the side of the castle facing them stood a massive stone gate, its doors open wide. But there was no way to reach it.

Ico realized that the stone platform upon which they now stood had once been part of a bridge leading to the castle. The bridge had been wide, large enough for three horses to pass abreast. But now, just a few paces ahead, the stone ended. He held a hand over his eyes to shade them from the sun and saw the other end of the bridge at the foot of the castle gate. It, too, ended abruptly where the cliff began. Between them, only sky.

You may not enter.

You may not leave.

The inlet between the two cliffs formed a moat more effective than any crafted by men.

For the first time since arriving, Ico detected an undeniable eeriness to the beautiful view. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he noticed that despite the blue sky overhead, a fine white mist hung over every part of the castle. How had I not noticed that before?

“Down the cliff,” the priest said from the depths of his cowl. He pulled the reins, leading their horse toward the left-hand side of the terrace, where Ico spotted the top of a steep switchback winding down the cliff face. The three horses made their way in single file down the simple path of trodden earth. There was no railing, nor anything else to prevent a single misstep from sending them plummeting off the edge, but the priest kept an easy grip on the reins.

The entire way down, Ico craned his neck to look up at the castle. He could not take his eyes off of it. A flash of light caught his eye-sunlight reflecting from two large spheres that sat atop the columns to either side of the main gate.

Ico felt a stirring in his chest.

You’ve come to me.

Finally.

Soon the gate was high above them and the sea close below. White seabirds hopped from rock to rock, and eddies swirled in the inlet. A small stone structure stood at the cliff base, its roof supported by slender pillars. The air was cool in the shadow of the cliff, and the spray from the rocks left a lingering chill on the bare skin of Ico’s arms.

The party dismounted. A short wooden pier with rotting pilings extended into the water in front of the structure. Beside it, a small rowboat had been pulled up onto the shore. While the two guards moved the boat to a small channel of water leading out into the inlet, the priest stood on an outcropping, facing the sea.

Ico strained his ears, thinking he might hear the words of the priest’s prayer, but if he said anything, it was lost in the roar of the surf.

When the boat was ready, the guards waved for them to board. As Ico approached the stern, one of them extended his hand to help him in, but Ico leapt instead, landing directly in the middle of the boat so softly the tiny craft barely rocked in the water.

Ico imagined the guard was smiling inside his helmet-the same way Oneh would smile whenever she saw Ico jump or climb.

“Must be nice to be so light,” she’d say.

But whatever expression the guard wore, it could not have lasted long. He turned away from Ico, a distinctly apologetic hunch to his back.

It was the other guard’s duty to row the boat. The priest sat at the bow, perfectly still, save for the motion imparted by the water beneath them. A seabird with pure white feathers on its breast and a red beak glided across the waves toward their small craft, barely skimming over the priest’s head. Even still, he did not flinch. Ico trailed his arms from the side of the boat, touching the water that streamed past. Through the clear waves he saw the shapes of fish swimming below.

They cut across the flow of the tide, slowly advancing toward the opposite shore. Ico looked back up toward the castle. The sky was split into smooth curves by the tall arches that rose between the stone pillars of the outer wall. The guard rowed toward the left-hand side of the castle, and soon the side wall came into view. Ico realized that the castle was not a single structure but rather a collection of several towers. Copper-colored pipes and narrow causeways of stone extended from the tower walls, spanning gaping ravines to link the towers together. The castle was so vast that Ico found it hard to take it all in at once.

The moment before the boat slipped beneath the castle’s shadow, Ico saw the spheres by the gate glimmer one last time.

As they neared the far shore, the boat veered further left, heading toward the side of the castle. From here, it was impossible to tell where the sheer cliffs above them ended and the Castle in the Mist began. Is the castle becoming part of the earth beneath it, Ico wondered in a daydream, or is the cliff slowly swallowing the castle whole?

“Into the grotto,” the priest called from the bow, raising his hand and pointing. Ahead, a cave opened in the rock face. The cave looked like it had formed naturally, but it was reinforced on either side with stone pillars. The guard swung the boat toward the entrance.

As they paddled in, darkness fell around them. The boat advanced gingerly, a child afraid of being scolded, and the sound of the surging sea fell away.

Ahead of them, a portcullis made of thick logs lashed together barred their path. The priest looked up at the rocks to the right and called to the guard with the downturned horns. “Now.”

The guard jumped lightly from the boat onto the rocky ledge of the cave and disappeared into the darkness. The boat continued sliding forward, and just as its bow was about to hit the logs, the entire portcullis lifted out of the waves with a loud creaking noise, allowing them passage.

The guard reappeared along the side of the cave and jumped back in the boat with a loud thud.

A short while later, a small wooden pier very like the one they had left on the far shore drifted into view. It even resembled the other in the way that its wooden pilings had rotted, leaving the planks along the top slanting toward the water.

The priest was the first to disembark when they reached the pier. The guard behind Ico pushed him lightly on the back. Though they were still inside the cave, the ceiling here was much higher, and the cavern seemed to extend ahead for some distance. A sandy path led from the pier, splitting to the right and left.

“Get the sword,” the priest said.

The guard with downturned horns nodded and walked off down the right path, disappearing down a stone passageway.

Ico stood examining his surroundings until the priest tapped him on the shoulder, indicating that he should proceed down the left-hand path. They began to walk, the wet sand making an incongruously humorous slup-slup sound under Ico’s leather sandals.

A round hole opened in the cave wall. They passed through, and the floor beneath their feet was now smooth. They no longer walked on rocks and pebbles; the passageway here was carved from stone.

Ico looked around, his eyes wide.

He had never been in a place like this before. It resembled a grand hall, with sides that rose straight up like a chimney. The room itself was perfectly round, and it hurt his neck to look at the ceiling far above.

A winding staircase, and in some places ladders, lined the chamber’s outer wall and would once have permitted someone to climb all the way to the top. But as Ico looked closer, he saw that the stairs had fallen away in places.

A thick, cylindrical pillar rose from the center of the chamber, reaching all the way up to the top-though, as Ico considered it, the structure was far too wide for a pillar. It must have been placed there for some purpose other than supporting the roof.

The smooth path extended into the middle of the chamber and ended at that central column, where Ico spotted two stone idols, roughly human-sized in height. The idols were rectangular, their sides meeting at sharp right angles, yet they had what looked like bodies and legs and even heads, complete with carven eyes.

Ico had never seen idols quite like these anywhere around Toksa. Their shape resembled the small idols that travelers prayed to for protection along the road.

The priest slowly approached the idols. The soldier with the upturned horns stayed back with Ico.

“Are you cold?” he asked in a voice so faint Ico could barely tell it from a breath.

Ico shook his head. The guard said nothing more, but he rubbed his own arms as if to say Well, I am. Or perhaps his gesture meant I’m frightened.

Heavy footsteps approached. The other guard had returned. Ico was startled to see him holding a giant sword. No wonder his feet were dragging. The sword was so long that if the guard placed its tip on the ground, the hilt might reach up to his shoulder. It was sheathed, though it looked double-edged by its shape, with a chain attached to the pommel. The grip was as thick as Ico’s wrist, and its color was the dull silver of ancient metal.

The guard hesitated, looking toward the priest. The priest nodded and indicated with his hands that he should stand in front of the idols. The guard took a few steps forward. He glanced at the other guard, standing next to Ico. Both men’s faces were hidden in the depths of their helmets, but Ico thought he could imagine their expressions: they were terrified.

“Draw the sword,” the priest commanded. “There is nothing to be frightened of.”

Holding the blade level to the floor, the guard gripped its hilt with his right hand. His arms shook with the weight of the blade. Though the sword appeared ancient, it slid from its scabbard without a sound, like the well-oiled blade of a soldier.

A light flared in the dimly lit chamber.

Ico closed his eyes and lifted his hands in front of his face. The light that bled through his eyelids was painfully bright.

He timidly opened his eyes to look and saw the soldier standing, feet apart, straining his shoulders to hold the blade level. A brilliant light emanating from the blade bathed the man’s body. The light swelled, enveloping both guards, Ico, and the priest.

Ico realized that the light wasn’t just coming from the blade-the idols were glowing too. Their glow echoed the brilliance of the sword, and both grew brighter until a light passed from one idol to the other and they split down the middle with a loud crack, sliding apart to reveal a passage beyond. The light faded.

“Sheathe the sword,” the priest ordered. The guard looked down, bewildered. The blade’s color had returned to a dull silver. After a moment’s hesitation, he reverently returned the sword to its scabbard.

The priest led them between the two statues. Ico reached out to touch one as they passed. The stone was cold beneath his fingertips. Where did that light come from? he wondered. Ico spied a cavity in the statue’s side with a tiny carving inside it. He looked closer and found that it was a depiction of a tiny demon. It’s like something from a fairy tale.

The passage opened into the central column. In the very center a small dais like a copper knob protruded from the floor, with sheets of steel radiating out from it in bands.

The priest said something too low for Ico to hear to the guard without the sword. He walked over to the copper knob, pulled something like a lever next to it, and the entire device began to slowly spin. With a reverberating clang, the floor began to lift and Ico nearly lost his footing.

The room is rising!

Ico reached out and touched one of the walls, feeling it slide against his fingertips. A deep sound rumbled beneath them, and he could feel vibrations coming up through the floor. They continued to climb.

Of all the things Ico had expected to find in the Castle in the Mist, this was not one of them. “Amazing,” he whispered.

The kind guard gave Ico a reassuring nod. The priest had his back to Ico, while the other guard held the sword with its tip against the floor, clutching its handle with both hands as though he feared it might walk away if he didn’t keep a firm grip on it.

The clanging stopped.

They had arrived at the top of the column. Here stood another pair of stone idols. This time, the guard stepped forward and drew the sword with a mere nod from the priest. Again, a brilliant light ran across the idols and they parted.

As soon as the way was clear, the priest stepped through, the hem of his robes drifting above the floor.

There were no signs of life. The only sounds were their own footsteps and the metallic chatter of the guards’ chain mail. The castle was abandoned.

At first, Ico thought they had emerged into a room with a low ceiling, but as he walked further on, he realized his mistake. The room had only seemed low because they had entered beneath a wide staircase climbing from the center of a vast chamber. Ico took a deep breath, trembling as he exhaled.

You could hold a festival with everybody in Toksa here and still not fill this place. The small stones covering the floor were as many in number as the stars he could see from the village watchtower, and Ico doubted that any of the hunters in the village were strong enough to loose an arrow that could reach the vaulted ceiling.

What is all this for?

Stone alcoves formed a grid along the walls, each cavity holding a strange coffinlike box with rounded corners. No, Ico realized. Not just like coffins. They were stone sarcophagi.

Ico followed the priest up the steps, recalling a story Oneh had told him.

Once upon a time, the story went, malicious spirits were born within the void that separated heaven and earth. Resentful that they lacked a realm of their own, they stole away human children and robbed them of their souls. But when they found that the stolen souls could not fill the emptiness inside their hearts, they seethed with anger till their rage became like tiny demons inside them.

Though they had brought the demons into being, the void-spirits were weaker than their own anger, and soon they were forced to do as the demons commanded. Distraught, the Creator hastily imbued the void-spirits with souls of their own, thinking this might placate them. But the demons within the spirits’ hearts took those souls and devoured them, so that no matter how many souls the Creator gave to the spirits, they were never sated but grew even hungrier than before.

At a loss, the Creator gathered magi from across the land and requested that they fashion stone sarcophagi in which to imprison the void-spirits together with their demons. It was the humans who had suffered when the void-spirits stole their children, so it must be humans who imprisoned them, the Creator declared.

The sarcophagi they made looked like eggs grown long and were covered with carved incantations of purification and placation. The wizards chanted their spells, imbuing the carvings with power, and the sarcophagi began to glow. Like moths to a flame, the void-spirits were drawn to the light and thereby trapped for eternity.

Ico looked over the stone sarcophagi lining the walls. These, too, were carved with ancient letters and patterns. Ico’s hand went to the Mark on his chest. The whorls of the patterns there were not entirely unlike those upon the stones. Ico could read neither, though he thought that the patterns on the sarcophagi looked a bit like the outlines of people.

What does it mean?

“This is your Mark,” the elder had said when he placed the tunic over Ico’s head. “The Mark has recognized you.”

The elder had a hopeful light in his eyes when he gave Ico the Mark-so why can I think of nothing but scary fairy tales when I look at these stones? Ico pressed a hand to his chest, lightly squeezing the fabric against his skin.

While Ico stood in a daze, the priest made his way to the wall and looked up at one of the sarcophagi.

“There,” he said, pointing to one that looked no different from the hundreds of others save one thing: it glowed with a pale blue light, pulsating like a beating heart.

As the priest intertwined his fingers and began chanting a prayer reserved for this occasion alone, the stone sarcophagus slid forward on its base, emerging from the wall with the heavy grating of stone upon stone. The guards took a half step back, the horns on their helmets colliding as they did, sending a ringing sound through the hall.

The lid of the sarcophagus slowly opened.

“Bring the Sacrifice,” the priest ordered. The two guards stiffened and exchanged glances. Even without seeing their faces, it was clear neither of them dared to do their next task.

“You.” The priest indicated the guard with upturned horns. “Bring him.”

The chain-mailed shoulders of the other guard slumped with relief as his companion turned to walk toward Ico, dragging his feet as he went.

Ico considered his handlers as the guard approached. These men had been chosen to protect the Sacrifice, a deed of tremendous honor. They were sure to be commended upon their return to the capital. Even before they received this duty, temple guards enjoyed privileges as guardians of the faith. They were the sanctified warriors of the Sun God, the defenders of souls. They were also men of authority-regardless of whether that authority came not from them but from the priests behind them-who wielded power over other officials of the church and capital. They had undergone harsh training to earn their rank. Both their loyalty to the realm and their faith in the Creator who forged heaven and earth and bestowed souls on mankind were infallible.

And yet, as children of men and fathers in their own right, it was no easy task to offer up the healthy, innocent boy standing before them to an unknown fate.

The priest had lectured them before they left the capital. “The Castle in the Mist does not demand that we be heartless. The compassion you will feel toward the Sacrifice and the sadness you will feel upon leaving him are all necessary to the success of the ritual. The castle will not be satisfied with just the Sacrifice. We must also offer up the pain in our hearts for it to be sated.”

It was all right to be sad. It was all right to lament. It was all right to feel anger.

But it was not all right to run away. The castle must have its due.

The priest walked over to the Sacrifice and laid a hand upon his shoulder. The horned boy looked up at him, though it was clear from his expression that the boy’s mind was in another place.

The priest knew that the guard had a child of his own-a boy roughly the same age as the Sacrifice. He knew the pain that man had felt on their journey whenever he saw the irons on the Sacrifice’s hands. How could he help but imagine, What if it were my son?

But if they did not offer the Sacrifice, the anger of the castle would not abate. And should the castle’s fury be unleashed, there would be no future for the world of men.

Though our Creator is good, thought the priest, our Creator is not omnipotent. The enemy of our Creator is the enemy of peace upon this world-in league with evil, maker of a pact with the underworld. So men must shed blood and suffer sacrifice, and be allies to god, that evil might be driven back. What else can we do?

Forgive me, the priest whispered deep in his heart.

“Take my hand,” the guard said at last, extending his arm toward Ico, thankful for the faceplate that hid his tears.

The guard lifted him lightly off the floor. With heavy steps, he carried him toward the stone sarcophagus that sat pulsing with light, growling…hungry.

2

"DO NOT BE angry with us. This is for the good of the village,” the priest said as he closed the lid. It was the first thing he had said to Ico since their journey began, and it was also the last.

There was no apology in his words, no plea. The voice behind that veil of cloth was even and cold.

The good of the village…

For the first time, he felt angry. This isn’t just for Toksa, Ico thought to himself, recalling the stone city he had seen from the mountain pass. It wasn’t fair to blame the entire custom of the Sacrifice on the village. It wasn’t their fault.

The interior of the sarcophagus was spacious. Seated, his head wouldn’t even have touched the top, but his hands had been secured in a wooden pillory fastened to the back of the sarcophagus, forcing Ico to stand with his back to the front, bent over like a criminal placed in the village square as a warning to others.

But I haven’t done anything wrong…have I?

There was a small window in the door of the sarcophagus, but in order to look out, Ico had to twist his neck around so far that it soon became painful and he had to give up. So he stood, listening to the footsteps of the priest and the guards fade behind him.

A short while later, he felt the reverberations of the moving floor. The priest and guards were leaving.

I’m alone.

Silence returned to the great hall-the silence of the Castle in the Mist. The silence itself must be the master of the castle, Ico thought, so long has it ruled this place. At least, that was how it seemed to him.

Ico could hear his heart beating-thud thud. He took an unsteady breath. For a long while he stood there, alone, just breathing.

Nothing happened.

Am I supposed to stay hunched over like this forever? Am I supposed to starve to death in this sarcophagus? Is that my duty as the Sacrifice?

The image of the elder’s face loomed in Ico’s mind. He could hear Oneh’s voice in his ears. We will be waiting for you to come home.

So I’m supposed to go home…but how?

He felt a slight vibration, no more than the quivering of a feather in the wind. The sarcophagus was swaying.

At first, he thought he was imagining it. He hadn’t eaten anything since the small meal that morning. Maybe I’m already starting to tremble with hunger. Maybe I’m getting dizzy.

But the rocking only grew stronger, and he was forced to admit it wasn’t him-the stone sarcophagus around him was shaking.

The sarcophagus shook up, down, and to the sides with increasing violence. Hands bound to the wooden frame, Ico tensed his legs and swallowed against the fear. A low rumble accompanied the growing vibrations, filling his ears. It seemed as though the entire hall around him shook. Even the air keened with the tremors.

Soon, the rocking motion became more than the sarcophagus could withstand, and the wooden frame broke off the back. The mechanism the priest had used to slide Ico’s sarcophagus into its cavity worked in reverse, spitting the sarcophagus out. It smashed onto the floor, cracking open the lid and sending Ico flying into the open air. His body rose, the world spun around him, and the next instant he crashed onto the cold stones of the floor. His right horn struck the floor, giving off a hollow clink, before everything faded to black.

Rain was falling outside, a downpour.

Ico was climbing a tower so high it made him dizzy. Looking up from the bottom, the top was lost in shadows.

A stone staircase wound around the inside wall of the tower, as ancient and decrepit as the tower itself. The staircase had a rail at about Ico’s eye level, with spearlike spikes protruding all along its top.

Thunder rumbled, and Ico flinched. Night had fallen and a storm had blown in, though Ico couldn’t be sure when.

Halfway up the tower, Ico ran out of breath. It was cold. A ragged curtain hung in the window ahead of him, flapping in the driving wind of the storm. The frigid air blowing in through the window and the cold stones of the wall chilled Ico to the marrow.

Lightning flashed, bright in Ico’s eyes-but in that moment of illumination, he spotted something hanging far above him. One hand pressed cautiously against the wall for support, he peered into the darkness. What is it? The dark silhouette resembled a birdcage, but it would hold a bird far larger than any Ico had ever seen. It seemed to be suspended from the ceiling of the tower. Stepping quickly, Ico resumed his climb. In another two or three circles around the tower he would reach the cage.

The closer he came, the more unusual the cage seemed. Though fowl in Toksa were allowed to roam freely, nightingales, said to have the power to ward off evil spirits, and stormfeathers, who sang upon the altar at festival time and were said to augur the future, were often kept in intricately woven cages of long, delicate reeds and young willow branches. It was not uncommon for the beauty of the cage to rival that of the bird’s song.

There was nothing elegant about this cage. It seemed to be made of black iron, and it looked immensely heavy. The chain upon which it hung was thicker than Ico’s arm, and the spaces between its thick bars were scarcely a hand’s breadth apart. Thorns of steel sprouted in a circle from its bottom edge, their function less to prevent whatever was inside from escaping than to discourage rescue.

The cage swayed slowly in the strong wind. Ico ran higher. He was only a few steps from being able to see what was inside when he noticed something dripping from the bottom of the cage. He stopped and pressed up against the railing to get a closer look. Is that…water? Drip, drip. Drip. The drops fell steadily to the floor of the tower, leaving dark circles on the stone. No, not dark, Ico realized. Black. Whatever it was that dripped from the cage, it was blacker than pitch, the color of melted shadow.

Something’s in there!

The thick drops reminded Ico of the hunters as they returned to the village, prey lashed across their saddles, blood dripping past the horses’ hooves. Something was alive inside the cage, and it was oozing black blood.

Thunder rumbled outside, as if to warn Ico from climbing higher. Still, he continued up. The bottom of the cage was at eye level now. He craned his neck to look inside…and saw nothing. It was empty.

Wait…

Something moved in a shadowed corner of the cage, though it was too dark to make out what.

Is someone in there?

Ico froze as a dark figure lifted its head and faced him. The figure was slender, graceful, like a shadow cast on the night of the full moon. The outlines were hard to make out in the darkness, but the figure was moving, silently. Ico could just discern the arch of a neckline and the curve of a shoulder.

Biting back the scream that rose in his throat, Ico retreated against the wall behind him, feeling the firm stone behind his shoulders and back. He was no longer sure that the figure was looking at him-he couldn’t see any mouth or eyes. Yet Ico felt its gaze upon him.

Lightning flashed and thunder roared, limning the silhouette in the cage.

There’s someone there. Looking right at me.

With his eyes fixed on the vision in front of him, Ico never noticed the black shadow spreading on the very wall against which he had sought shelter. The shadow formed near his left fingertip and spread quickly, until it was large enough to swallow him whole.

By the time he jerked away from the cold against his back, it was too late. The shadow had begun to emerge from the wall, engulfing Ico like living quicksand. Ico felt himself being pulled backward, sucked in-he flailed, grabbing for anything he might reach, but his hands closed on air. The black shape in the birdcage watched him. At the last moment, he realized that it was the black blood dripping from the cage that had seeped into the tower, climbed the wall, and engulfed him-yet there was nothing he could do about it now.

Ico opened his eyes.

It was a dream. I was only dreaming.

Ico was lying facedown, flat against the floor, arms and legs spread wide. For a while, he was content to lie there. He didn’t want to move until he understood at least a little of what had happened to him, or where he was.

I’m still in the castle.

He sat up and looked around, checking himself for injuries and finding none. He stood and tried stretching his legs. He performed a little jump. Nothing hurt; he felt as healthy as he always did.

As he took in his surroundings, he spotted the stone sarcophagus lying like an overturned wheelbarrow a short distance from where he had awoken. Its lid and metal hinges were broken. Ico picked up a piece of the shattered stone. It was rough and cold.

The sarcophagus no longer glowed.

It’s dead, Ico thought. The sarcophagus had opened its mouth and swallowed him whole-but Ico had been poison to it. It had spit him out, but not before suffering a lethal dose. What was poison to the sarcophagus might also be poison to the Castle in the Mist. The Mark rippled across his chest and back, though no discernible wind blew in the great hall. As the Mark was his, so too was he the Sacrifice-his horns were proof enough of that. Yet the sarcophagus had broken, failing to hold him.

What does it mean?

The countless stone sarcophagi set in their alcoves were as quiet as they had been when Ico first saw them. All were in their places, save the one that had held him.

Thin light spilled in through a small window. It didn’t seem as though much time had passed since he had been knocked out; the rain and thunder had been an invention of his dream. Yet his memory of the black silhouette in the cage was as clear as though he had seen it with his eyes. Was that the master of the castle? Did the master show himself to frighten me?

Ico cupped his hands to his mouth. “Hey!” he called out.

The sound reverberated off the far wall of the hall, carrying his voice back to him.

He called out again, “Is anyone there?”

Echoes were his only reply. The priest and the two guards had left. He looked up again at the silent stone sarcophagi surrounding him-Ico thought of the Sacrifices within, turning to dust, becoming part of the Castle in the Mist.

Only Ico was free.

Free to leave. The elder and Oneh were waiting for him back in Toksa.

Closer examination of the walls in the great hall revealed that they were cracked with age. Ladders had been set beside the sarcophagi to provide access to the upper levels of the stone shelves that ringed the room, but these were old and rickety.

Ico ran in circles, hearing the sound of his footfalls on the stones, carried by curiosity, wondering if anyone was there or if someone in one of those sarcophagi might hear him and cry out for help. He even tried climbing some of the ladders. He found no one, but in his wandering he had spotted something at the top of the staircase-what looked like a wooden lever protruding from the wall.

Ico raced up the stairs. It was, indeed, a lever. It looked like it might move up and down. Standing on his tiptoes he could just reach it.

The lever was stiff. It probably hadn’t been used for many years. Ico pulled with all his strength. His face turned red. Part of the wooden lever objected to this treatment by breaking off and falling in splinters on his face.

Finally, Ico’s strength won out and the lever slid downward. A breath later, he heard a loud sound coming from another part of the hall nearby.

Ico looked down from the handrail of the staircase and found that the large doorway directly beneath had opened-it was a wooden door directly across from the one through which he had entered with the priest and guards. He had tried opening it before, but no amount of tugging and pushing could make it budge. The surface of the door was pitted and scarred, making him think that, if it came to it, he could break it down somehow-but finding a magical lever to open it was far preferable!

Grinning, Ico ran down the steps and through the door, finding himself in another room, narrower than the hall he had left, with several vertical rises in the floor. He wondered what the room was for.

A crackling sound made him stop. He looked up to see that the ceiling here was not quite as high as it had been in the great hall, and torches had been set along the walls. They burned with red flame.

The look of the flickering flames was somehow comforting-it reminded him of the fireplace back home-until a disturbing thought occurred to him.

Who lit these torches?

The priest might have lit them on his way out of the castle-but that didn’t make any sense. Ico had heard the circular floor descending right after they put him in the sarcophagus. And if they had gone through the wooden door, who had lifted the lever to close it again? Why light torches here at all? If the master of the castle had lit them, was it to welcome the new, fresh Sacrifice?

The Castle in the Mist is alive.

Ico shook his head. There was no point in thinking about that; he would only frighten himself. Thankfully, the rise in elevation in the floor wasn’t too high for him to climb up. He seemed to have recovered from his fall, and the movements of his hands and feet were quick and strong.

He reached the upper level and found himself at a dead end. Looking up, he saw another level high above him, but he would’ve had to be able to fly in order to reach it. Then he noticed a thick chain hanging from the ceiling. It looked as though something might once have hung from its end, but years of rust had caused the chain to drop its charge, leaving the links to hang without a purpose.

Ico remembered the iron birdcage in his dream and shivered. He jumped, catching the end of the chain, and began, hand over hand, to climb. He had always been good at climbing ropes, and the links in the chain made it even easier. Once he was close enough to the topmost level of the floor, he used his weight to swing, and when it began to sway, he reached the edge with his feet and landed. I made it. I can do this.

A row of square windows were cut into the wall in front of him. He jumped up to one, catching the edge with his hands and pulling himself up to find an even larger room on the other side. That’s more like it. It was time to find a way out and leave this place for good.

3

ICO LEAPT FROM the edge of the window into the next room-and realized too late that the drop on the other side was much longer than he had imagined. Wind whistled in his ears.

Before he could regret his blunder, Ico’s feet connected with the stone floor with a fwoosh. Years of dust rose around him like white smoke.

He shivered and looked up at the window overhead. He often jumped out of trees and off roofs back in Toksa, but never from so high. Yet he didn’t hurt anywhere, and his legs and knees were steady. He knew he was tougher than other children his age-but had he grown even stronger since reaching the castle?

Could it be my Mark?

However strong he was, he was still hungry. And thirsty. I wonder if there’s water around here. He pricked up his ears and listened, but all he could hear was the crackling of torches high up on the walls.

The room he had entered was very large. He guessed it was about half the size of the sarcophagus room. There were idols here too-not just a pair, but four of them, heads side by side, blocking his path. Light came from an opening just above the idols, indicating that a passage or some kind of room lay beyond them. But he wouldn’t be able to move the idols without that strange sword. There seemed to be no other exits.

Directly in front of him was a smooth section of stone, a round dais rising slightly above the surrounding floor. Ico marveled at the incredible height of the walls and ceiling. Although the shape of the room at the floor was square, as the walls rose, they began to curve. As his eyes followed the walls upward, he spotted a spiral staircase winding around the inside wall, climbing toward the ceiling. This is the place in my dream! It was the same staircase, with the same spiked railing. And not just similar-identical in every respect.

Ico gasped and looked up again. If this really was the place from his dream, then there should be a cage-and there it was, right near the top, its base dully lit by light from the window.

Ico looked down at his feet and made a realization-the circular dais was a platform for receiving the cage.

A shiver ran down his spine, and goose bumps rose on his arms. The events of his dream ran through his mind. Carefully, he walked up to the edge of the dais. He stopped and looked up again, half expecting to see black blood dripping down from the ceiling. But there was nothing.

Nowhere to go but up.

There were ladders on either side of the room. Ico took the ladder leading to the lowest ring of the spiral staircase. Surprisingly, the rungs seemed to be in good repair, and they held Ico’s weight without complaint. Ico scampered up one of the ladders and soon was climbing the stairs. The events of his dream were playing out again, only where once a storm had raged, now sunlight streamed through the windows. After he had gone quite a way up, he saw the same window above him, with the curtain flapping in the wind exactly as it had in his dream.

The farther he climbed, the clearer he could see the cage. Ico’s heart began to leap in his chest. Any moment now I’ll see that strange black shape. Then the blood will drip, and it will look up at me, and…

Ico stopped.

There was something in the cage. But it wasn’t black; it was white. And not just any white, but a gentle, glowing white, like a firefly flitting along the water’s edge at dusk.

It wasn ’t a shadow, but a person.

“Is somebody there?” Ico approached the handrail and called out toward the cage. “Who are you?”

Behind the bars, the white silhouette moved.

“What are you doing in there?” Ico asked, then hastily added, “Hold on. I’ll get you down.”

Ico resumed climbing the staircase, feeling his heart dancing in his chest. There was a prisoner in the Castle in the Mist! Is that person a Sacrifice like me? Why are they in a cage instead of a sarcophagus? I have to get them out!

As he ran, his mind whirling, he suddenly came to a place where the staircase had collapsed, leaving a large gap. On the far side, the stairs continued up. But even with a running start, he didn’t think he could jump across.

Ico looked at the window in the wall to his right. It was higher than the staircase, yet if he jumped, he might be able to grab on to the edge. He couldn’t be sure where it led, but he was running out of choices. Heaving himself up, he grasped the edge of the window and stuck his head outside. Ico gaped when he saw that it opened above a wide veranda. He could hear the distant roar of the sea and the faint cries of seabirds.

Out on the veranda, Ico squinted against the bright light. Clean, crisp air filled his lungs. He was up on one of the towers. The sky felt much closer here, as though he could reach up and grab one of the clouds. Nearby rose another of the castle’s towers, with causeways connecting the intricate structures below. Everywhere there were windows, but no life stirred behind them. Cliffs towered in the distance, and far below, the sea crashed against the island. But nowhere could he look that was not shrouded in mist.

I’m really here.

A strong wind blew. Ico circled the veranda and climbed back in through a window a little farther around the circumference of the tower. Even inside, the wind whistled in his ears. But Ico was not afraid-to the contrary, the air encouraged him. Smelling the sea on the wind and seeing the bright sky above meant he was not stuck here, unable to move. The natural world around the castle was alive and thriving. If he could just find the way out, he would be back in that world.

A little farther up the staircase, he came to a true dead end. The railing blocked off two sides, and there was a wooden door on the right. The door was the same shape as the one Ico had gone through when he left the great hall, only slightly larger. Next to the door he saw a lever similar to the one he had found in the hall, only this one was set in the floor. It offered no resistance as he pulled it. He thought that it might open the door, but he was wrong. Instead, behind him, the cage moved.

With a loud squeal, the chain holding the cage began to play out from a winch against the ceiling, and the cage began to descend toward the base of the tower. Ico went up to the railing to look down after the cage. It descended farther and farther, until he was practically looking down at its top. Inside he could see the white figure lying on the floor of the cage.

He was just thinking he was right about the round dais being a platform for the cage to rest on, when the chains let out another squeal, and the cage stopped its downward motion. The sudden halt made the cage rock from side to side. It hadn’t yet reached the platform-it had stopped midway.

Ico tried the lever again, but nothing happened. He thought that the cage might have caught on something along the way, but it was too far down for him to see clearly from where he stood. Ico darted down the stairs, wiping the sweat from his brow as he ran. His throat ached with thirst.

The cage had stopped with its base hanging roughly at the height of the heads of the four idols. Ico reached the bottom of the staircase, where he could look directly inside the cage. The white figure stood at its center. It was a woman.

Her body was slender, with an elegant curve to her neck, and she wore a strange white dress that came down to her knees. She was looking down at her feet, and though she must have noticed Ico by now, she did not look at him. Ico went to call out to her again, but stopped himself. He didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t answered him before. Perhaps she couldn’t hear him at all.

He had a bigger problem, though. How could he lower the cage the rest of the way to the floor?

Ico caught his breath and pondered. He could feel the sweat drying on his skin. If I could only get a closer look at that cage. A narrow ledge ran around the edge of the room, and it looked like it might lead him just above the place where the light was peeking through over the heads of the idols. The ledge widened there, protruding almost like an awning. He would have a clear view of the cage.

Ico scrambled down the ladder and ran to its twin on the other side of the room. He climbed it and began running across the ledge, never taking his eyes from the girl inside the cage. She stood motionless. For a moment he wondered if that glowing white form wasn’t human after all, but some kind of spirit given shape.

He recalled the forest sprites Oneh had told him about in stories. They were kind, gentle creatures who loved all life in the woods, and even protected those people who lived off the bounty of the forest. When they found a lost traveler or wounded hunter, they would appear in the form of a young girl to help them.

Ico paused when he reached the wall above the four idols. The woman inside the cage had her back to him, and she still wasn’t moving. From here there could be no doubt that she would be able to hear him if he spoke. Should I call out to her? Maybe she can force open the cage door. Ico dismissed the thought as soon as it occurred to him. Her arms were even more slender than his. She could scarcely rattle the bars of that sturdy cage, let alone break them.

Now what?

Ico looked more closely at the chain holding the cage and saw to his surprise that though the links were thick, they were covered with rust. Some even seemed damaged. Maybe the cage wasn’t as sturdy as he’d first thought.

Ico knew what he had to do. From the top of the cage, he and the girl might be able to work together, using their combined weight to free her. As long as he avoided the dangerous-looking spikes protruding from the top and bottom edges, it didn’t look that difficult.

Ico jumped and landed easily on the roof of the cage, sending it lurching to one side. He had been half right about the chain-though it was damaged, it was far weaker than he had imagined. His added weight was enough to break one of the links, and the cage dropped to the platform below, landing off balance. The shock of the impact knocked Ico from the roof and sent the broken chain rebounding upward to slap against the wall, knocking down a single torch, which fell with a soft sound beside him. It was still burning. He gave it a quick glance before returning his attention to the cage. Still sprawled on the ground, he watched in wonder as the woman in white stepped through the cage’s door.

The woman crossed over the threshold of the cage gingerly, like someone wading in the shallows of a stream. Ico’s eyes fell on the gentle curve of her leg. She was barefoot, and a white light suffused her skin down to the very tips of her toes.

She looked back around at the cage that had held her, then at the stone walls of the room, and then finally down at Ico. She was definitely a woman, but much younger than he had guessed from a distance. She was more of a girl, really. Still, she stood taller than Ico and looked a bit older.

Her chestnut hair was cropped short, lightly falling across her cheeks. Her eyes were the same color as her hair, and they were fixed on Ico’s face. She must be a spirit, Ico thought. A spirit trapped here. No human girl could be this beautiful.

Her lips moved, and she spoke-but even though the room was quiet, save for the crackling of torches, Ico could not make out her words. Whatever they might have been, he was sure that they were unlike any he had heard before.

She stepped across the floor soundlessly, walking closer, saying something. She’s talking to me. But Ico couldn’t understand.

“Are you…” he began, finally summoning the courage to speak, “are you a Sacrifice too?” Had someone trapped her inside this castle and put her inside that cage? Did they imprison spirits here too? Ico couldn’t find the right words for his questions. Instead his mouth moved all by itself, telling her that he was a Sacrifice, that they brought him to the castle because he had horns.

The girl walked up to Ico and knelt gracefully. She extended her hand toward Ico’s cheek.

Those pale white fingers. Eyes like jewels. All aglow with the same ethereal light he and Toto had seen rising from the bottom of the pool in the cave.

Ico’s eyes went wide as he noticed a cloud of inky black smoke looming behind her.

4

WHERE THERE'S SMOKE, there’s fire, Ico thought-but the only flames in the room were the flickering torches on the walls. What’s burning?

The thought was banished a moment later when two thick arms emerged from the swirling smoke behind the girl and scooped her up. The dark form turned and began to move away toward the corner of the room, carrying her upon its shoulder. The girl gave a quick scream, but the smoke did not seem to notice.

It’s walking, Ico realized, dumbfounded. Its shape was almost human, but it had no more substance than ink-black smoke, a dark mist. It even had a head, swollen and misshapen-topped with horns, just like Ico’s.

That’s no smoke-it’s a creature, a monster.

The realization hit Ico like a slap in the face, catapulting him to his feet and after the creature.

It moved without sound, gliding quickly across the room like a cloud of mist. Even with its back turned, Ico could still see the glow of the creature’s eyes. They were as large as Ico’s fists, without pupils or eyelids, gleaming like shooting stars just before they wink out after cutting across the night sky.

The girl hung limp over its shoulder.

Ico noticed something he had not seen before on the stones in the corner of the room-a black disk, as dark as the shadow creature. For a moment, he mistook it for a pool of water, but then it began to move. He realized it, too, was made of the black, shadowy mist. The disk seethed and began to bubble as though it were boiling.

The creature approached the ring and knelt before it. It stuck one of its legs in and began to sink into the swirling pool. With the girl still on its shoulders, its entire body began to dissolve into the floor.

Within the space of a few breaths, the creature had sunk down to its waist, everything else disappearing beneath the ring of inky blackness. The girl reached out with both hands, trying to grab on to the edge of the pool. It was dragging her down, taking her under. The girl shook her head, shaking loose her fine chestnut hair, and clutched at the ground with all of the strength in her two slender arms. But the force of the pool was greater-she’d never be able to escape on her own.

Ico ran so fast he nearly fell forward, reaching out for the girl. In his shock and fear, he had no voice. He grabbed for the girl’s wrist and pulled with all his might. The pool of darkness pulled back, until Ico feared he might wrench the girl’s arm from its socket. His own shoulder made a cracking noise with the effort, and his sandals slipped on the stone floor. Ico tumbled to the ground.

The fall brought his other hand close enough for the girl to reach, and soon he had both hands on her wrists. Getting his feet back under him, Ico pulled with his legs to drag her from the swirling darkness.

At last, the tips of her bare feet left the edge of the darkness and she collapsed on the floor. Ico loosened the grip on her wrists, then fell to his knees on the stones, panting for breath.

The girl was breathing raggedly, as though she had been drowning. Behind her, the black pool was beginning to churn.

“What was that creature?” he asked, his mind racing. He had to get her away from the pool. They needed to run from this place. “Why are they after you?”

The girl lay on the floor, gasping for breath. Ico felt his own heart rise in his throat, choking him. He put a hand on his chest, touching the Mark. I need to stay calm. He took a deep breath, but before he could even exhale, the girl disappeared behind a swirling veil of darkness.

Ico gaped. It was another of the dark creatures dragging her off, this time toward the far corner of the room where he spotted another pool whirling. Waiting.

This time, Ico’s anger rose quicker than his fear, and he ran at the creature swinging his fists wildly at its back-but all he touched was air. No matter how hard he swung, it was like trying to punch a cloud.

Staggering and occasionally falling to her knees, the girl was being dragged away. No matter how much Ico punched and kicked or threw himself at the creature, it didn’t seem to feel a thing. The outline of the smoke would shift slightly wherever his limbs connected with it, but no more.

How can I get this thing?

Ico whirled around so fast it made his neck hurt. The girl was farther away now, closer to the dark pool. Worse, there was more than just the one black creature in the room. They were everywhere-pairs of eyes, glowing with a dull white light. Some lingered near Ico, others followed after the girl, joining the one that held her. When he tried to run after her, two of them came and blocked his path.

I can’t hit them, I can’t kick them-I need a weapon.

The crackling sound of the burning torches reached his ears, and he had the answer. Fire. What better to drive back the darkness?

The torch still lay next to the fallen cage, sputtering. Ico made a beeline for the torch, picking it up in both hands and turning to charge at the creatures.

With Ico’s first swing, the tiny flame at the tip of the torch went out-his torch had become a club.

But his next swing cut across the waist of one of the creatures, and its outline lost its form, coiling through the air as loose smoke. The thick blackness vanished before him, leaving only two eerie eyes floating in space, surrounded by a small wisp of smoke.

Courage swelled in Ico’s chest. He swung the club back and forth, making for the girl. Already she was being dragged into the swirling pool at the far side of the room, the black arms of one of the creatures coiled around her waist.

Swoosh, swoosh! Ico could feel the wind as he swung his club, breaking apart the smoky mist. Finally, he reached the girl. He swung his club at the neck of the creature holding her, and the smoke swirled. The creature’s eyes moved, the right drifting from the left, and the line of its shoulders dissipated.

“Grab on!”

Ico thrust out his left hand, shouting to the girl. She had already sunk to her knees.

For the space of a breath, barely long enough to blink, she hesitated. Her eyes focused on Ico’s, questioning, trying to peer into the bottom of his soul. Where her gaze fell on him, he felt cool, as though clear water washed over him. Ico gasped with the sensation.

She thrust out her arm and grabbed his hand.

Their fingers met, then their palms, and it felt like a current passed between their hands, pure and warm. It reminded Ico of the southerly wind prized by the hunters of Toksa Village that blew down from the mountains, guaranteeing a good hunt. It was a gentle wind, full of fond memories and happiness. Full of safety. It enveloped him in an instant, and the room shifted around him.

Ico was sitting on the same stone floor, looking up at the same stone walls, the same high ceiling. Torches flickered in sconces.

The thorny iron cage sat resting on the round dais. It wasn’t broken, it wasn’t leaning. It stood empty, and the door was shut.

Beside the cage stood an old man. He was leaning on a staff and wore heavy-looking robes woven of silvery thread. An intricately carved jewel adorned the top of his staff. Ico recognized it instantly. It was a celestial sphere-a globelike ball that showed the positions of the moon and stars, used by astrologers to divine the will of the heavens.

The old man’s hair was long, as was his beard. Both were pure white. He shook his head slightly, and Ico caught a glimpse of his face. His bushy eyebrows grew so long they threatened to cover his eyes, but still they could not hide his sorrow.

“This is no way to use the knowledge of the ancients,” the old man muttered, indicating the cage with the tip of his staff. “Our master has lost the way. There is no destination to our path. It leads only to darkness.”

Ico looked around again. It was the same room-but there was no dust on the floor. Nor were the stones in the wall chipped or cracked. The cage shone brightly, like new-forged steel.

“This is a mistake, a dire mistake,” the old man said, his voice like a groan. “This castle walks toward destruction.”

Ico gasped for breath. It was as though he had been underwater for a very long time and only barely made it to the surface. Like his heart had sunk into a different place for a single, long moment, and only now returned.

His sight came back. The girl was in front of him, their fingers intertwined. He felt the wooden stick gripped firmly in his other hand.

At his feet, a pool of black smoke swirled on the ground. A pair of eyes rose out of the pool, followed by that familiar black shape.

They come from the pools.

Moving quickly, Ico smacked at the head of the newly formed creature with his stick. Still holding the girl’s hand, he spun around and struck another of the creatures looming behind them. It dissipated, leaving only its eyes floating in the air. As he watched, the smoke began to coalesce around the eyes again, forming a new creature where the old one had stood. All this had taken place in only a few moments, yet more creatures had already formed out of the pool in the corner.

We have to run. Ico looked up, but the four idols still stood, blocking their exit. The window through which he had first entered the chamber was too high for him to reach, and there was no way to climb up. Neither of the two ladders in the room was tall enough, assuming he could even tear them from their moorings on the wall without breaking them.

In a panic, he swung his stick, letting go of the girl’s hand as he did. She lifted her eyes the moment he let her go and began to walk slowly toward the four idols. The creatures advanced.

Ico hurriedly ran to the girl, nearly losing a sandal as he did. The girl looked at Ico only briefly before returning her gaze to the idols. Still moving unsteadily toward the idols, she muttered something in words he could not understand.

Again, Ico took the girl’s hand. This time, he could feel her pulling him. She wanted to go toward the idols. “It’s a dead end!” Ico shouted, yanking her back. She shook her head as though annoyed and pulled against him. Her eyes were fixed on the idols, and her expression said I must go.

It only took that moment’s distraction for the creatures to surround Ico. Ico put his back to the girl and swung his club in wide circles. The girl moved slowly yet smoothly. She avoided the stick when it came too close, and when Ico, breathless from the effort of driving the creatures off, lowered his guard, she extended her long, slender arm and pointed toward the idols. I know, I know. The idols! Ico grabbed the girl’s hand and began to run. The girl’s hair and the shawl over her white dress fluttered in the wind.

They crossed the room, passing by the fallen cage. The girl’s pace quickened, and she ran ahead of him-a forest spirit leading a hunter to safety. The four idols loomed before them.

Suddenly, a brilliant flash of white light cut through the air. The girl stopped as though she had collided with an unseen wall and took a step back. Ico flinched and stopped beside her.

The white light was coming from the idols, just as it had when the guard brandished that strange sword. The girl held up one hand as though to shield her face. Ico spotted another of the black creatures, arms outstretched, flanking her. But the moment the creature entered the light, it disappeared like a gust of wind blows away smoke, leaving no trace. Not even a pair of glowing eyes. The light leapt from idol to idol, coming together at a single point where it seemed to draw a quick pattern in the air before disappearing altogether.

With a low rumble, the idols began to move. Like marching soldiers changing formation in mid stride, the outer two idols moved forward, making way for the remaining two to slide to either side, opening the way for Ico and the girl.

Gaping, Ico looked around the room. The boiling pools of smoke on the floor were evaporating, and soon they had vanished entirely. Where they had been, the stone floor looked no different than it had before the creatures appeared.

The girl lowered her hand slowly. She seemed neither surprised nor the least bit frightened. Her shoulders relaxed, and her arms hung loosely at her sides.

They’re gone.

With a dry throat, Ico swallowed and put a hand to his chest to still the pounding of his heart. She got rid of them. She even opened the door.

The girl stood motionless, looking down at the floor. Ico walked up to her, stepping quietly-though he could not say why he felt the need to do so.

“How did you do that?”

The girl turned, looking at his feet, but she said nothing.

“Oh, that’s right. You don’t understand me. I mean, you don’t speak my language. Er, sorry.”

The girl blinked. Her long eyelashes fluttered.

“Look,” Ico said, “we need to get out of here before those creatures come back. Come with me, okay? Let’s find the way out.”

Ico realized he was still holding the stick in his hand. It wasn’t exactly what he pictured when he thought of a weapon, but it had done an admirable job of holding the shadows back. He decided he’d better hang on to it. He steadied his grip on the stick and held out his left hand, brushing the girl’s sleeve. He tried looking at her face, but she would not meet his gaze. She just looked at his outstretched hand, and for a moment, she did not move.

At last, she made her decision and grabbed Ico’s hand tightly.

Her hand was soft in his, with long slender fingers and delicate nails like the newly bloomed petals of a flower. Again, a sensation like a gentle wind passed from her hand to his. Ico recalled diving headfirst into cold pools of water on a hot day in the middle of summer. In an instant, the day’s dirt and grime were washed away, making him feel clean down to the bone.

The energy flowing into his body felt so good that for a moment, Ico closed his eyes. He wasn’t tired anymore. His hunger melted away. He felt no thirst. Even the pain in his leg from the fall off the top of the cage faded away.

Again, a vision came as his eyes were closed-something that had once been, but was no more.

The four idols-the ones the girl had moved a moment before-were lined up in two rows. Before them knelt a figure in flowing black robes and a long black veil, back turned to them, praying.

The figure was bent over so low that it was hard to make out any details, but Ico decided it was a woman. For a moment, he thought she might be holding something in her hands, but he decided that it was only her intertwined fingers.

Quite suddenly, a brilliant flash like lightning shot from the woman’s chest, striking each of the four idols. The idols began to move, lining up to block the entrance to the room, just as they had been when Ico first saw them.

When the idols came to rest, the kneeling figure stood. The veil shifted on her face-or perhaps she had moved it with her hand. Ico glimpsed a white cheek and hair bound up in an elaborate braid. It is a woman.

The vision faded. Ico opened his eyes.

Still holding his hand, the girl stood staring ahead of them. I wonder if she saw it too.

Ico thought back to the old man he had seen when he first held the girl’s hand. He had not prayed quietly like the woman in black; he had been angry. Maybe the celestial sphere on his staff was supposed to suggest that he was some sort of scholar. Probably a very great scholar, Ico thought. The elder had books with drawings of the heavens in them, but even he didn’t have a device like that.

So who was the woman in black? Had she been praying to breathe life into the idols, or for something else? Maybe, Ico thought with a sudden realization, she was casting a spell ward. Maybe all those idols were meant to seal off the doors and imprison something. No ordinary person could make things move like that. Was she a witch?

Witches were commonplace in the fairy tales Ico had heard growing up. They were followers of darkness, servants of the evil gods who fought against the Creator. Witches were fallen human women, and while they resembled people in appearance, their hearts were filled with dark curses chanted by evil gods. Wherever they went, darkness followed, even by the light of day.

Was there a being like that in the Castle in the Mist? Was the master of the castle a witch?

Ico shook his head. Thinking about it was getting him nowhere. He didn’t even know what these visions were, or why he was seeing them. He only knew that it happened whenever he took the girl’s hand.

Ico glanced at her. She did not look sad or even frightened. Nor did she smile or seem engaged with the world around her at all. Though she was right next to him, and he could look directly into her face, he felt like she was standing on the other side of a veil of mist.

Who is she, for that matter?

She could open the doors magicked shut by the woman in black. She carried within her the same power held by that blade.

Ico pulled lightly on her hand. She looked in his direction-or rather, she turned her face toward him, but her eyes did not see him.

I know she’s taller than I am, probably a little older…and nothing else. He tried staring into her chestnut eyes, tried to see if some secret might be hiding there beneath her eyelashes, but it was in vain.

His eyes went to the shawl she wore over her shoulders. What if her shawl had the same power against the castle that his Mark seemed to have? She didn’t have horns on her head, but she had been kept in a cage. He was sure she was another kind of sacrifice. Just like the elder and Oneh worried for him, someone worried for her, and they had given her the shawl as protection so that she might one day return to them.

“Let’s go,” Ico said brightly. Whoever the girl was, it was better being two than one.

5

THE ROOM BEYOND the idols was smaller and again split into two levels. Ico wondered why the castle had been built in such an inconvenient way. It seemed like there were different levels of floor everywhere, making it impossible to walk straight through.

The rise in this room was very high, but Ico jumped with his arms outstretched and caught the edge. Left behind, the girl wobbled unsteadily on her feet, seeming lost. He had only taken his eyes off her for a moment, but when he looked back he saw that she had turned and was walking back toward the room with the cage.

…and the creatures!

“This way!” Ico shouted. He slid his arms over the edge, reaching down toward her. “Grab my hand, I’ll pull you up.”

He knew she wouldn’t understand his words, so he gestured to get his point across. Finally, she reached out to him and grabbed his hands. Ico braced himself to pull her up-and was astonished.

She’s so light!

This was nothing like when he had struggled to pull her out of the swirling black mist. Even though all of her weight was in his arms, she was barely heavier than the basket he used to carry firewood back home. Ico stared at her white skin and the light that seemed to suffuse her.

She is a spirit!

But then he saw the shawl on her shoulders rising and falling.

A spirit that breathes. And has fingers and toes. And hair.

Ico realized he was staring at the girl and blushed. She didn’t seem to notice.

“I think we can get outside from here.” From this higher level, he could see an arched exit leading from the room through which bright sunlight spilled. “Come on. This way!”

Ico waved his arm, urging her forward. He ran out through the arch, and then stopped and stood in amazement.

They were at the end of a long, straight bridge of stone. The far side was so distant he could barely make it out.

He could hear the sea from here. There was a parapet of stacked stones, and he leaned out over it, feeling dizzy, like he had when he looked down from the tower that held the cage. The blue sea stretched out beneath him. Clouds drifted overhead, and he could hear the cries of seabirds coming from all directions.

The wind whistled in his ears. The Mark fluttered on his chest.

At one corner of the bridge parapet stood a statue. Ico walked closer and looked up at it, entranced, forgetting for a moment the girl behind him. It was a statue of a knight. He wore a breastplate, and his legs were also armored, though most of his body was covered by a long cloak that wrapped around in front. His head was covered by a helmet, shaped just like the ones the guards had worn, complete with horns. His were upturned, and the one on the right had broken off.

The statue of the knight faced toward them, away from the bridge, with his arms hidden beneath his cloak. This was not a statue of someone in battle. He seemed almost too pensive to be a proper knight. The statue was weathered and pitted from long years of exposure to the elements, and though the lines of the face had long since worn away, Ico did not think he looked particularly stern or grand as one might expect a great warrior to look.

Maybe the statue had been made to commemorate someone who served the castle? He had heard that there were many such statues in the capital erected to honor former city guards, or those who had won great battles in defense of their country. Those stony men sat astride horses, brandishing their whips or swords, giving orders to their troops, a perfect picture of the day when their loyalty and bravery had shone most brightly.

But this knight looked like he was just thinking. Strange.

Ico stood on the low stone wall behind the statue to get a better look. The wall went up to about Ico’s waist, and it was narrow. He tried not to look down at the sea far below him on the other side. Getting his balance, he turned to face the statue.

Seen in profile, the knight did not lose his thoughtful expression. Ico noticed tiny spots on a part of his cape. Drops of blood? No, maybe they were just stains from the rain.

He guessed that the statue was incredibly old. Maybe even as old as the Castle in the Mist. He wondered when the horn on the knight’s helmet had broken. The break was smooth and clean.

Ico’s eyes went wide. From his new vantage point it was perfectly clear: the horns weren’t on his helmet, they were growing out of his head. Though the helmet resembled those of the temple guards, this knight’s helmet was a little wider at the nape of his neck, forming a bowl over his head. Small slots had been cut out over the ears for his horns to fit through.

He’s a Sacrifice, just like me. But how could a Sacrifice be a knight? What did it mean?

In his distraction, Ico nearly lost his footing and fell from the parapet. The sea filled his vision. With a yelp, he waved his arms and managed to tip himself so that he fell back on the stones at the statue’s feet.

He heard the sound of a nearby gasp. It was the girl, standing next to the arched doorway. She had her hands to her mouth, looking frightened.

“Oh, hey, sorry about that! I wasn’t going to fall over the edge, really!”

Ico smiled at the girl. Slowly, her hands dropped back to her sides. Then she walked up to him and stood beside him, looking up at the statue. It was the first time he had ever seen her look directly at anything.

A strong sea wind caught her hair, sending it dancing along with her long eyelashes. She blinked a few times, but her gaze never left the statue of the knight.

“I wonder if they put him in a sarcophagus like the one they put me in,” Ico said softly. “But he looks so old-maybe a long time ago they didn’t do sacrifices, and he was just a knight who served here at the castle.”

The girl’s lips moved slightly. At first, Ico thought it was the wind, but then he realized she was whispering something. It sounded like-a name. Like something she remembered from a distant past, saying it just to see if it sounded right.

“You know who this was?”

The girl didn’t answer. Ico took the girl’s hand, half expecting and half fearing the vision he knew would come.

For a moment, Ico thought nothing had changed. Then the statue of the knight moved.

It turned its head, looking in Ico’s direction. He felt a thoughtful gaze regarding him from the two holes in the knight’s faceplate.

The pieces of the knight’s armor clanked against each other as he stepped down from the stone parapet. A gust of wind caught his cape as he stood next to Ico, making it flutter.

Ico could say nothing; he simply stood there looking up at the knight. He felt no fear or danger. Even his surprise faded after a moment, carried away by the wind.

Something rose in his chest, a feeling of intense familiarity, like an old memory from childhood. Why would the knight look familiar? Is it because of his horns?

The knight extended an arm and the cloak dropped away, revealing a silken shirt beneath his armor. Small clumps of dirt fell from the sleeve.

Ico suddenly realized that the knight was not a statue. He had not been carved from stone. This was once a man, a man with blood flowing through his veins. Just as some evil power had turned the walled city beyond the Forbidden Mountains to stone, so it had turned this man into a statue.

The statue laid a hand on Ico’s right shoulder. His grip was firm, but gentle. Much to Ico’s surprise, it even felt warm.

There was a gentle light in the knight’s eyes as he looked into Ico’s. Although his helmet covered his entire face down to the chin, Ico was sure he smiled. He looks just like the elder, whenever he was teaching me something. "Listen well, Ico, and you will learn.”

No, it wasn’t just that. There was something else. It felt like-it felt like his father was looking at him. But I don’t even know my father, Ico thought. How could someone look like him-someone whose face I can’t even see?

Then he heard the knight speak.

My son.

The words sounded in Ico’s head. His ears heard nothing.

Forgive my mistake, child-all my children who must endure this trial.

The knight’s hand left Ico’s shoulder. His head turned, looking up at the tower from which Ico and the girl had escaped, then back at the long stone bridge across the sea, and finally out across the waves.

He spoke again in that soundless voice.

Castle in the Mist!

Resentment this strong.

Sin this deep.

Long years of atonement this cruel.

One thousand years of time did not erase my sentence.

Barren years spent imprisoned here.

Even now it tortures my body, binding me to this place.

But, my son.

The statue looked back at Ico.

I knew love here as well.

Then the knight turned calmly, sweeping his cloak behind him as he walked toward the stone bridge. With each step his steel boots made a heavy sound on the stone, and his cloak whipped in the wind behind him.

The knight crossed the bridge, walking toward the white mist.

Ico found his voice. “Wait!”

He ran, still holding the girl’s hand in his own. He ran wildly. His leather sandals scratched noisily against the ancient stones. He dashed forward with such speed that the barefoot girl nearly fell as he pulled her along.

“Wait! Please, wait! Who are you? Are you my-”

The knight disappeared into the mist.

Suddenly, Ico felt a great rumbling beneath his feet. The bridge swayed, and Ico nearly fell. He flailed his arms, losing hold of both his stick and the girl’s hand. Beneath them, the bridge cracked, crumbling away. Ico leapt through the air, only just landing on the far side of the break.

He heard a shout behind him-the girl was teetering over the widening crack in the bridge. She flailed her arms and legs, desperate to catch hold of anything that might support her, but she could not reach the edge. She fell, plummeting downward along with fragments of broken stone, her dress and shawl whipping wildly in the wind.

Ico lunged, barely catching her hand. The girl swayed, her legs tracing an arc through the air that almost reached the underside of the bridge. The momentum of his lunge nearly sent Ico skidding off the bridge himself. He tried to find purchase on the stones with the tips of his sandals and used his free hand to grab hold of the edge, finally stopping just at the point where his shoulder had cleared the edge.

The girl’s eyes were wide with terror, and the wind whipped her hair across her face.

“It’s okay, don’t panic!” Ico began pulling the girl up. “You won’t fall, I’ve got you.”

Careful, careful. The girl’s left hand reached the edge of the break, and she grabbed on. Now her head cleared the edge. He pulled her until her shoulders were on top of the bridge again, and she was safe.

With a jump, she was standing atop the bridge. Ico led her a safe distance from the edge before he finally relaxed, taking a moment to lie down. The girl collapsed beside him on the bridge. Her thin shoulders were trembling. She had a terrified look in her eyes, and her breath was as ragged as the wind whipping around them.

“That was close.” Ico realized he was dripping with sweat. “Sorry. It was my fault. I shouldn’t have run like that.”

The girl lowered her eyes and shook her head.

“This castle is pretty old, isn’t it?” Ico went on. “There might be other parts that aren’t safe. We’d better pay more attention.”

The girl took a deep breath and sat up, looking back to the other side of the bridge.

Though the air here was thick with mist, they were close enough to the far side to see it now. More idols. Spell wards. There were two of them this time, fit snugly together, blocking their path.

The knight must have come through here, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Rising to his knees, Ico looked back across the gap in the bridge to where they had stood before. There was the knight on the wall, his back turned to them, wrapped in his cloak.

So that was just another vision. Had he imagined the voice he heard in his head?

The girl stood and smoothed out her dress. Ico looked up at her.

“That statue over there,” he said, pointing. She turned to look back at the knight. “He used to be a human, you know. He’s not a statue, but a man who was turned to stone. I saw him-”

The girl said nothing. Instead, she lifted her hand, brushing back the hair that fell across her eyes.

“The castle cursed that knight too, just like me. It trapped him here. He’s a Sacrifice, like I am. What I can’t figure out is, why would such a great knight become a Sacrifice? I thought the castle only took kids.”

The image of the knight slowly stepping down from the stone parapet and crossing the bridge filled Ico’s mind.

Now that he thought of it, when the knight’s cloak had blown behind his back, Ico had seen a breastplate and armored skirt, but he had seen no sword-certainly no weapon befitting a knight in armor such as his.

“You said something when you were standing next to the knight, didn’t you? To me it sounded like you were saying a name. Did you know him?”

The girl stood with her back to Ico, silent. Maybe she can’t hear me over the wind.

My son, the knight had called him. It left a bittersweet echo in Ico’s chest that would not go away.

My children who must endure this trial.

Ico didn’t know the names or faces of his parents. The elder had explained to him that that too was part of the custom. After his mother and father left the village, there was no way to contact them, nor any reason to do so.

Was that my father? But if his father had been a Sacrifice, how had he lived to such an old age? Had he been born with those horns, he would have been taken to the castle like Ico was and placed in a sarcophagus. He wouldn’t have had the chance to become my father.

Even now it tortures my body, binding me to this place.

Ico stood with a sigh. He brushed the dirt from his knees, much as the girl had, then picked up the wooden stick from where it lay on the stone bridge. By some miracle, it hadn’t been lost when the bridge collapsed.

“No going back that way.”

The gap in the bridge was too wide for Ico to jump. The bridge was broken, dead. A part of the castle had perished, just like the stone sarcophagus that had held him when he first arrived.

Maybe this was a part of his Mark’s effect on the castle. Having power over his prison gave him hope-but it was also a source of danger, as he was fast learning. We have to be much more careful from here on.

“Not that I wanted to go back.”

The girl turned to him and to his surprise, she smiled faintly. She’s beautiful. He thought her smile looked like a flower in full bloom, swaying gently in a forest breeze, sending its petals out to drift on the wind. He could almost smell the flower’s perfume on her breath.

Holding hands, they crossed the remainder of the ancient bridge. The two stone idols and the mysteries they held behind their expressionless faces awaited them.

6

LIGHTNING FLASHED THROUGH the air once more, and the stone idols slid to either side. Ico noticed the girl blinking in the light. She looked almost frightened. She doesn’t know why the idols move any more than I do.

“Does that hurt?”

A blank stare.

She has no idea what I’m saying.

In this room was a small wooden door and a staircase running around the inside of the room, winding up the walls. They were high enough already. Ico wanted to avoid going any higher if he could. We have to go down whenever we can if we’re ever going to get out.

Thankfully, the door opened easily.

“You wait here. I’m going to go see if it’s safe.”

Through the door, Ico found only disappointment. He was standing on a small balcony overlooking a gaping chasm. A similar balcony protruded from the far side. It looked like a bridge had once spanned the gap here, but nothing remained of it now. He looked down and immediately felt dizzy.

Far, far below he could see the green of trees and a bit of white where some dry land was exposed. Maybe a courtyard? From his vantage point on the balcony, it looked like he could go into the tower on the far side, but there was no way to get down there from this height.

Guess we’ll be going up the stairs for now. Crestfallen, he turned to go back through the door when he heard the girl scream.

Ico ran, then froze when he returned to the room. The shadow creatures were back, circling the girl like vultures around a kill. A swirling pool had opened in one corner of the small room.

The blood rose to Ico’s head and he charged the creatures, swinging his stick. There were several of the larger ones with horns growing out of their heads, just like the ones that had attacked them in the room with the cage. They danced eerily, avoiding his attacks, swarming around the girl with eyes that glowed a dull white. But Ico wasn’t afraid of them anymore. I don’t care what they are. I’ll send them back where they came from, no matter how many of them rear their ugly horns!

“Take that, and that, and that!”

It felt good, slashing the air with his stick, dashing them to nothing. But the pool was still seething in the corner. Several pairs of glowing white eyes flitted around the room, shadowy forms slowly coalescing around them.

The girl screamed again, and when Ico looked, he saw another shadow creature, this time with wings like a bird, grabbing the collar of her dress and trying to fly away with her. Ico’s hair stood on end. What, they can fly too? The girl flailed wildly as the thing carried her toward the top of the staircase.

Ico ran up the stairs, a pair of eyes brushing by his head.

– Stop, do not do this.

Ico gripped his stick tightly, his knuckles white. Were the creatures talking?

– You are one of us. Why do you thwart us? Why do you not show us kindness?

It was not a single voice, but a chorus, pleading, demanding, admonishing.

He was sure of it now. The creatures were talking to them even as they circled through the room, flying about, spinning around him.

– You are one of us.

“You’re wrong!” Ico shouted, swinging his stick. One of the creatures in front of him shifted to one side, leaning over him, peering down.

– You are just like us. We are Sacrifices too.

– Your horns, your Mark.

– We gave our lives to the stones. While our bodies decayed, our souls stayed in the cursed castle. We have lived eternal unlives in the cold and the dust.

– We are bound to the Castle in the Mist as we bind the castle together.

– Do not try to stop us.

Chest heaving, Ico steadied his club, but his hands were trembling too much for him to aim properly. The winged creature had disappeared with the girl.

– Little Sacrifice, gifted child protected by the Mark. Do not stop us. Please. Show kindness.

“No way…” Ico whispered, clenching his jaw to stop his teeth from chattering. “You’re lying!” he shouted. “I’m not like you!”

Ico shouted until he was out of breath, then ran up the rest of the staircase. At the top, he saw another black pool boiling in the middle of a narrow landing. The girl was sinking into it, already chin-deep in the darkness.

Tossing his stick aside, Ico dove to the ground and thrust his hands up to his elbows into the pool. He grabbed the girl’s slender shoulders. The girl’s eyes were dark, reflecting the blackness beneath them, and her glowing white body was already merging with the swirling shadow. Even still, when she noticed Ico trying to pull her out, a light of hope came into her eyes, and she glowed slightly, like an ember.

“Hang on, just a little more!”

Ico had managed to free the girl’s upper body from the swirling pool when something pushed him from behind, sending him tumbling across the pool. He rolled heels over head and onto his back. He looked around to see one of the creatures hovering directly above the girl. Her mouth was half open in a soundless scream, looking up at the smoke that filled her vision. She stared straight into the creature’s dully glowing eyes.

The creature peered back at her.

It shook its head, and the girl’s body sank further into the pool. She descended slowly but steadily. The creature spread clawed arms-though it looked less like it was threatening her and more like it was pleading with her, its head lowered almost reverently.

With a start, Ico realized that the creature was talking to her. Calling to her, just as the shadows had called to Ico. And she was listening to it.

The girl’s chin disappeared beneath the roiling black smoke. Her hands slowly lost their grip on the edge of the stone beyond the pool. The creature nodded and brought its clawed hands together in a gesture of thanks.

It’s praying for her.

By now, the black smoke was halfway up the girl’s cheeks. Her wide eyes were no longer chestnut colored but as black as the inky darkness around her. The pool was winning her over.

She’s giving up!

NO! A different voice sounded in Ico’s head, but before he could think of whose it was, a vision filled his senses.

In the vision, he saw the girl sink. Her head vanished beneath the swirling darkness, leaving a last lock of hair swirling in the air before it too disappeared. Then a bright flash of light-like the light that flared whenever the idols parted-erupted from the middle of the boiling pool. Lightning crackled in the air.

The lightning became a ring flying through the air-it struck the creatures, evaporating them in an instant. The black pool disappeared and the still-expanding ring reached Ico.

Ico shielded his eyes from the light, shouting, mouth wide-and then he turned to stone. Just like the people in that walled city. Like the statue standing at the end of the ancient bridge.

NO!

The voice came to him again, an urgent warning.

Then the vision faded, and as Ico was released, he shivered and screamed, charging toward the pool. All he could see of the girl now was her forehead. She’s going to sink!

He thrust his hands into the pool, his fingers brushing the soft skin of her cheek. He grasped at her, clawing with his fingers and pulling like his life depended on it. Finally, he managed to grab her shawl. The girl flailed out with her arm and it touched his hand.

“No! I’m not letting you go!”

Now the girl’s face was above the swirling darkness. She gasped for breath, half drowned. The fear on her face sent a fresh jolt of energy through Ico. I’ve got to save her!

Ico pulled, losing all sense of time, and when the girl was finally out of the pool, he bared his teeth and growled at the creatures around them. Then he wrapped his arms around the limp body of the girl and, picking her up, leapt from the edge of the upper level.

They landed in a heap on the stone floor below, close to the wall. Ico left the girl there for a moment, retrieved his stick and swung it around with such fury that he struck the wall. His arm tingled with the impact. Still he swung, returning the creatures to smoke. He caught one of the winged ones with a downward stroke, beating it into the floor. Ico roared as he rained down blows on the creatures.

When he finally looked up, the black pool on the floor was evaporating. The light went out of the remaining creatures’ eyes and they faded. The attack was over.

Out of breath and shivering, Ico noticed a wetness on his cheek. Tears streamed down his face.

Ico let his hand holding the stick drop. The tip of the stick made a light sound as it hit the floor. He looked around and saw the girl sitting on her knees by the wall, her hands covering her face. She intertwined her fingers, touching them to her forehead-the same gesture that the creature had made by the pool at the top of the stairs. She was praying. Or maybe she’s asking for forgiveness.

It was hard to resume their search for a way out of the castle. But if they stayed here, the creatures might come back. Of course, there was no way of being sure the creatures wouldn’t be lying in wait no matter where they went. This was the home territory of the shadows-they weren’t wandering around blindly in the castle like Ico was.

Still, they couldn’t sit here forever. Even if Ico couldn’t escape while it was still light outside, at least he could lead the girl to a lower level.

Ico called out to the girl, saying they should go, but he didn’t dare take her hand. He felt as though his heart had shattered into a thousand pieces and his thoughts were chaos. The mysteries of the castle were deep, and the visions he saw when he took the girl’s hand might give him answers-but he was afraid. He had the feeling that once he knew, he would be changed forever. He could never go back.

He tried to remember Oneh’s face. Toto’s cheerful voice.

Why do you show us no mercy?

You are one of us.

The words of the creatures came back to him, driving off his memories of home. What had they meant about being bound to the castle, and binding the castle?

Do not try to stop us.

Why were they trying to take the girl down with them? Was he getting in their way by trying to save the girl? Who was she, anyway?

In the next room stood a wall that topped out on a large terrace beneath a high ceiling supported by square-edged pillars. Ico was more weary of heart than of body, but it still took a great effort to climb the wall. He had to fight back the feeling that he didn’t want to go any farther.

At the top, he turned and called to the girl. She stayed back.

“What’s wrong? If you don’t come up, we’ll be stuck here.”

He didn’t think she was hesitating. She looked like she didn’t want to go.

“Is there something up here you’re afraid of?” Ico asked. Then something inside him made him continue. “You know your way around this castle, right?” Ico was surprised by his own words. Why would I think that?

The girl stood a short distance from the wall that rose in the middle of the room, looking up at Ico. Her bare feet moved across the stone floor and she turned away from him. She began to walk back the way they had come.

“You don’t want to get out of here with me? You want to stay here?”

The girl stopped beside the arch leading to the last room.

“Those creatures will come for you again. They’re after you. You know that.”

Her head drooped, revealing the nape of her neck, and she placed a hand lightly on the side of the archway. Then she passed beneath the arch.

Ico stood alone on the upper terrace, hugging himself with his arms. The sunlight that spilled between the square pillars lit him from the back, making him look much like the statue of the knight on the bridge.

Now something else spoke within him in a tiny whisper. Don’t go. That was all it took. Ico cupped his hands to his mouth, took a deep breath and shouted, using the call the hunters used to find each other in the forest. “Hueeeeh!”

The girl lingered on the other side of the arch, her flowing dress making her slender white form seem to float over the stones.

Ico leaned over, careful not to lose his balance, and stuck out his hand as far as he could. “Come on. Come with me.”

The girl turned and stepped closer. She began to walk toward him on unsteady legs, uncertain until she took Ico’s hand. He squeezed and felt her squeeze back-weakly, but it was enough.

Beyond the columns, the roof gave way to open air. This place was wider than a terrace-it seemed like they were atop a tower. In one corner another staircase rose to a small elevated section of the roof-a watchtower maybe, Ico thought.

The sun was bright, and the blue sky seemed close. This was the first place he had come to in the castle where there weren’t any shadows from the sun.

“Looks like some kind of observation deck,” Ico said to the girl. She squinted against the sunlight as the wind gently ruffled her hair and shawl. The air up here didn’t smell of the sea. It smelled like the woods. Here the seabirds were silent.

They went up the staircase to the highest point of the tower, where Ico could see that it formed a semicircle enclosing a beautiful stand of trees below. Shielding his eyes from the sun, he looked around, then crossed over the deck and went down the stairs he had spotted on the far side, where a narrow walkway ran along the side of the building. There, a narrow ladder descended to a small platform, beside which ran a long set of rails. The tower shaded them from the sun, but they were still far above the ground below.

Ico jumped down onto the rails, following them off to his left where he soon found what it was that rode them. At the end of the line sat a small, flattop trolley with a high railing around the sides. He had seen something like it before in the mine just beyond the outskirts of Toksa.

The wheels of the trolley rested evenly on the rails. Ico clambered on top, and the trolley squeaked but did not move. He found a lever and pushed it, and the trolley began to sway back and forth. So this is how it moves. Ico felt revitalized. I can ride this, and if any of those creatures attack, my club will be moving that much faster!

7

“HUEEEEH!”

Ico called out cheerfully to the girl. He worked the lever on the trolley, jumping to get it going faster, enjoying the feel of the wind on his face. The girl was standing at the edge of the stone platform. She turned at the sound of his voice.

Ico waved. “Come on, get on!”

He reached out and grabbed hold of her hand, lifting her onto the trolley. She looked around the trolley with a bit of wonder in her eyes, then stood beside him and held onto the railing with both hands.

“That’s right,” Ico said. “Hold on tight. Ready? Let’s go!”

The trolley started off with a squeak, but once they got going, the wheels rolled effortlessly, as though the cart had never been abandoned at all. They picked up speed, and the girl knelt, still holding onto the slender railing.

Ico smiled and took her hand, keeping a firm grasp on the lever with the other.

“It’s okay, it’s safe. Doesn’t the wind feel great?”

The rails ran along the edge of the building in a straight line. Ico took a deep breath, feeling the air rush over his body and clear away the lingering darkness of the tower. For a moment, he forgot his questions, his doubts, and his fear over what was to come.

Ahead, the rails curved gently to the right. Ico slowed the trolley. Feeling the wind ripple along the Mark on his chest, he turned to the girl with a smile.

She was gone. In her place stood a little girl of only three or four years. She was wearing a white sleeveless dress that went all the way down to her ankles. Instead of a shawl, the dress had a collar embroidered with a pretty flower pattern. The girl’s hair was long, and she wore it tied into a single ponytail at the back. It sparkled a bright yellow, like flax.

The girl grabbed hold of the railing of the trolley with her little hands and laughed out loud. The laughter made her chestnut eyes glow a bright amber.

“Faster! Faster!” she called out. “Isn’t this fun, Father?”

The world swam past them. Though the girl’s laughter still rang in his ears, Ico saw that she was looking at him, speaking to him. Like she knew him. Or maybe she sees somebody else here, not me.

Then she was begging him, still in that bright, childlike voice, wanting to know if he would play with her again on his next visit home. If he would give her a ride on the trolley again, to promise that he would.

The trolley sped like the wind, making Ico’s tongue feel dry when he opened his mouth to speak.

“Thank you, Father!” the little girl was saying. “Thank you!”

With a start, Ico realized that the little girl was gone, replaced by the girl he had rescued from the cage-still holding his hand, her other hand gripping the metal bar of the railing. The transition between vision and reality had been so seamless it was hard to tell which was which.

They were approaching the curve. Ico applied more pressure to the lever. The trolley swayed in protest, then began to slow, its inertia carrying it smoothly around the bend.

Who was that little girl? Was she a younger version of the girl at his side? Ico felt like he had been dreaming with his eyes open, like he had plunged into someone else’s memory-happy memories of a childhood long past.

Thank you, Father!

The rails ran along the edge of a cliff. Beyond, Ico could see only blue sky and the sea below. I’d better slow down more.

When he looked up from the lever, Ico noticed more of the shadowy creatures standing along the wall above them, as though they were seeing the trolley off. They were there only an instant, but Ico sensed their glowing white eyes following their passage.

They’re not chasing us.

Something about the way the creatures stood there made them look lonely. Or maybe it was just another vision. It was getting harder for Ico to tell.

Farther ahead, the rails came to an end at another platform. Ico carefully let go of the lever. The trolley slowed, its wheels making a loud rattling noise before the cart settled to a stop.

Ico scrambled up onto the platform, sure that the shadow creatures would be waiting, but there was nothing. He saw a passageway with an arched roof leading from the far end of the sun-drenched platform. At least it’s not a dead end. He took the girl by the hand and helped her off the trolley.

Through the arch, they passed along a narrow corridor, exiting onto a terrace with square pillars. The terrace led to the balcony of another vast hall with a high, peaked ceiling. A latticework of thick beams crossed overhead, supporting a massive chandelier lit with dozens of candles that hung in the middle of the hall.

A bridge crossed to the far side of the hall. Leaving the girl behind for a moment, he walked to the center of the bridge, testing it carefully with each step. He grasped the handrail and looked down. Below, he saw the decayed remains of furniture. Here was a toppled candelabrum, there a large pedestal where a statue of a woman had once stood, the statue itself now lying broken on the floor. The great hall was nearly round, and he could see a pair of double doors leading outside. Both of the doors were open wide, letting sunlight spill in-perhaps from the courtyard. He could see green grass beyond the threshold.

Ico wondered how far down the cart had taken them. They had been traveling quite fast-they might have come a very far way down in the castle indeed.

The thought put Ico at ease. Maybe if we can get down to those doors, we can get outside.

The only problem was, there didn’t seem to be any way to get from the top of the bridge on the second floor down to the floor of the great hall. What stairs he could see went up toward the ceiling, not down to the floor below, forming a sort of catwalk that seemed without purpose.

Maybe, he thought, in the distant past, well-appointed ladies and knights would pass back and forth over the walkways and the bridge, waving down to the guests on the floor below in celebration of some great victory in battle. Cheers would rise up from both levels as they welcomed their hero…

That is, if anyone ever really lived in the Castle in the Mist.

He went a little farther, each creaking step reminding him of the toll the years had taken on the bridge, leaving it cracked and chipped in many places. The far end where it met the other side of the room was the most precarious. There, a crack as long as the distance from Ico’s elbow to his wrist and as wide as the palm of his hand had opened in it. He could see through to the floor of the great hall. He stuck his fingers into the crack, sending fragments of stone down to the floor.

Walking carefully back to the girl, Ico shook his head. “This hall is pretty enough, but what a strange design. There’s no way to get down to the lower part. We have to find another way.”

To Ico’s surprise, the girl shook her head.

Did she understand me?

“Maybe if we had a rope…” He shrugged and offered his hand to the girl. She hesitated before taking it.

“I wonder if we can climb down that wall by the edge,” Ico said, looking around. Just then, he saw the little girl with the sleeveless dress and flaxen ponytail running down the right side of the room.

The vision again!

A man wearing loose trousers and a gently flowing tunic appeared behind her, striding slowly along the walkway. Before Ico even had time to call out, the little girl tripped on the hem of her dress and fell. She shrieked and pitched forward, catching herself on the stone floor with her hands. She started to cry.

When the girl tripped, the man quickened his pace, stretching out his arms toward her. “I told you not to run like that.” He picked up the little girl, lifting her to his shoulders. “What a tomboy you’ve become, Yorda.”

His voice was gentle. Tucking the girl under his left arm, he rubbed her cheek with the other. Drying her tears. A ring on his finger, deeply engraved, caught the light-

Ico pulled his hand away from the girl, shivering and jumping back. He let go so suddenly that she staggered and nearly fell.

“Who-who are you?” Ico demanded. “Every time I grab your hand, I see things. It’s so real. And they’re all right here, in the castle. It’s like I can see the past playing out before my eyes. Who are you? Did you used to live here?” He said it all in one breath, growing surer with every word that these visions he was seeing were her memories.

“Yorda…that’s your name?” Hands clenched into fists, he walked up to her. “It is, isn’t it? Your hair was longer when you were little. You used to run down the corridors here and ride in the trolley. Your father was here too…”

The girl shook her head slowly from side to side.

Does she mean she doesn’t understand? Or is she saying I’m wrong?

“I don’t know what you mean if you just shake your head like that!” Ico blurted out, unable to contain his irritation. Ico’s voice echoed off the ceiling. He imagined that the chandelier even swayed a little.

The girl did not answer. Without a sound, she walked out onto the bridge. When she reached the large crack, she stopped and peered down. Then she returned to stand directly beneath the chandelier, lifted one finger and pointed up.

“What? What are you trying to say?” Ico said, keeping his distance. “What is it?”

The girl kept her finger raised.

“What? The chandelier?” Ico asked angrily.

The girl nodded.

“What am I supposed to do with that?”

Ico put both hands on his waist and glared at the girl. She lowered her hand and her shoulders drooped-a little girl who was scolded.

Ico cursed himself for letting his temper get away from him. There was enough to worry about in this castle without making her afraid. He felt his irritation melt away.

“Look, I’m not sure what you’re trying to tell me,” he began, taking a deep breath. “But if it will make you happy, I’ll go check out that chandelier. You come over here, okay? I don’t want you standing underneath that thing.”

The girl quickly stepped back to the near side of the bridge. Ico walked up the staircase along the wall. There were rows of small windows set in the far side of the hall-if he used the windowsills as handholds, he might be able to climb up to the rafters.

It wasn’t as difficult as he had imagined. Soon he had his hands on one of the thick rafters. Pulling himself up carefully, he stood on top. The rafter was slick with dust, but the wood felt sturdy beneath him and was easily wide enough to walk across. Ico’s leather sandals left clear marks in the white dust.

He made his way toward the chandelier, then knelt, inspecting the fastenings holding it to the rafter. Several metal brackets held an iron chain that went down to a central post on the chandelier, though about half of them had rusted and split, and the rest were dangerously warped.

Maybe she was telling me it was dangerous to walk on the bridge because the chandelier might fall on our heads? But then he wondered how she had noticed from the ground. And if it was likely to fall, why was she standing beneath it?

Ico craned his neck to look down over the side of the chandelier, careful not to let his feet slip. The girl was doing as Ico had told her, standing far to the side, looking up at him with a worried expression on her face. He tried waving to her. She didn’t respond. No other helpful gestures or instructions appeared to be forthcoming.

Ico sat down on the rafter, letting his legs hang down off the side. It was cool and dark up here. Away from the girl, he felt himself relax. The thought made him feel guilty. Why should being away from her make me relax? But it was the truth.

He felt like he had been running from the moment he escaped that sarcophagus. He hadn’t even had a moment to sit down and think, or even just to breathe. It was a welcome break.

Without even realizing it, Ico had been rubbing the Mark on his chest. It calmed him and gave him strength. I’m getting out of here. I’m going home. Everyone is waiting for me. The doors outside are right down there. I can see them. I just have to figure out a way to get down there, and we’ll be walking on the grass, in the sun.

There would be plenty of time to wonder who the girl was and what the words of the shadow creatures meant once he was safely outside. Maybe the elder would know something. He could just ask.

There was no point in thinking too hard about it now or worrying about the visions he saw whenever he held the girl’s hand. Maybe that was just the castle trying to scare him. Maybe it had nothing to do with the girl at all.

Then why was he so sure that it did?

It was as though something dark had lodged itself in his chest, whispering to him incessantly. It must be those creatures. When I was fighting them, I took a bit of them inside me. Like breathing in smoke from a fire. Now it’s stuck in my lungs, and it’s painting them black from inside.

Suddenly a voice rang in Ico’s ears.

– You cannot escape this place.

– You must not leave.

– You must not take her away.

– Return the girl to the cage. She belongs to the castle.

– That is why her memories fill this place. That is why they return when you touch her.

“Quiet, quiet!” Ico shouted, trying to drown out the voices in his head. Then he saw it-something hanging from the carved railing of the bridge beneath the chandelier. And not just one thing, but many. They had legs, swaying in the air.

They were people, hanging down from the railing. Heads up, feet floating in space.

What are they doing?

Ico strained his eyes. Then he understood, and it felt like a blow to his chest. They weren’t just hanging-they had been hanged.

Some were knights still clad in light armor. Maybe guards, Ico thought. There were women too, wearing dresses like white clerics’ robes. Young girls in petticoats with flowers in their hair. Even a farmer, the cuffs of his trousers and shirtsleeves bound tight, so as not to catch as he swung a scythe in his fields, and a hat on his head to shade his face from the sun.

But there was no sunlight here. Their faces were pale and twisted in agony. Black tongues protruded from their mouths, and their fingers were frozen in place, clawing at the ropes around their necks. Where their arms and legs were exposed, they were drenched with blood. He could see it now, dripping.

Ico was struck by a sudden similarity between the hanging crystals on the chandelier and the bodies hanging from the bridge below-a long, macabre chandelier stretching the length of the room. In place of candles, corpses. In place of light, blood, spilling on the floor of the great hall.

Was this another vision?

The corpses swayed from side to side. Beneath the hanging corpse-candles, Ico saw the knight he had met on the ancient bridge. He walked slowly, heading farther into the castle. His pace was unrushed but steady. He passed through the hall without hesitation, turning not so much as a glance at the gory scene above his head. Knights were familiar with death in all its horror. The blood from the corpses dripped onto his single remaining horn and ran off the curve of his helmet. Some even dripped on his forehead, but he did not raise a hand to wipe it away.

Where are you going? Who are you going to meet?

From his vantage point above the chandelier, Ico could see the knight’s gaunt cheeks and ashen lips. His cloak swayed with each stride. As with the statue, the knight wore no sword. Still, Ico sensed tremendous courage and determination in the set of his jaw and the dark gleam of his eyes. He was on his way to battle.

“Who are you?” Ico asked out loud. He had meant it to be a challenge, but it came out as little more than a whimper. Then the room shifted and he returned to reality-or perhaps sanity. His body swayed with the abruptness of his return, causing him to shift on the rafter and lose his balance. The rafters swirled around him, and Ico fell flat on his back on top of the chandelier. His arms and legs smashed into the candles, sending flakes of ancient dried wax drifting down below.

Ico twisted, sitting halfway up, his legs splayed across the top of the chandelier. His left leg had knocked over several candles and was sticking out over the edge. Good thing I didn’t lose my sandals, Ico thought. He tried not to make any sudden movements, focusing only on breathing steadily.

Creak…

Dust fell in streams from the chandelier. The brackets holding it to the rafter were warping.

His fall onto the top of the chandelier had been the last push they needed. The first broke free with a loud pop, and soon all of them started to snap, one after the other, like panicked soldiers falling out of formation.

The chandelier left the rafter and seemed to pause in midair for the briefest of moments, as though it longed to defy gravity just this once and remain where it had stayed for so long.

Ico sat up a moment too late, his hand missing the rafter by an inch. The chandelier made a whistling sound as it fell, and he could feel the wind in his hair. The chandelier fell away from beneath his feet. He felt himself breaking into pieces, his soul escaping his mouth in a wordless scream. Lighter than his body, his soul remained, suspended in the air, while the rest of him plummeted down.

With nothing else to hang on to, Ico grabbed the central pole of the chandelier, the iron chain that had gone up to the rafter whipping uselessly from its top. With an incredible crash, the chandelier fell onto the bridge. It was just wide enough to extend from side to side, the outermost ring of the chandelier falling directly on top of the railings. Candles flew up from the base of the chandelier, arcing over the railing and falling down into the room below. Ico rolled up into a ball in the middle of the chandelier to avoid the spikes that once held the candles. Dust rose in a great cloud. Ico looked up and jumped off to the side with a shout as the iron chain came chasing after the chandelier. The chain coiled like a snake before falling down through the chandelier, pulling itself after.

Dust stung Ico’s eyes. Even his mouth tasted of it. Ico stood, wobbling. He saw the girl, still standing at the end of the bridge, hands over her mouth. Her eyes were wide with surprise.

“It’s okay-” he started to call out, when a loud noise reached his ears.

Something was cracking. He felt a lurching vibration, and the bridge buckled beneath him. The chandelier pitched forward, sliding down the railing.

Before Ico could react, the far side of the bridge snapped, falling from its perch at the edge of the second level. Apparently, the bridge was just as worn as the brackets securing the chandelier.

With a sound that shook the very ground beneath them, half of the bridge fell to the floor, forming a slide that started on the second floor where the girl stood and ending all the way down by the double doors that led out to the green grass beyond.

Ico rode the chandelier as it slid down the fallen bridge, coursing on top of the railings like a child at play. It quickly gathered speed, flipping when it hit the bottom and sending Ico flying.

This time he fell facedown and landed on his stomach, knocking the wind out of him. Dust filled the great room like mist, and in the silence, he heard the echoing plink plink of candles that flew from the chandelier and struck the ground before rolling to a stop.

Ico lay on the floor a long while, checking to make sure he still had his limbs. I’m still breathing. Nothing’s broken. I’m not bleeding. He waited until he could hear nothing moving around him before getting up. When he did, he saw that the fallen bridge formed a sturdy-looking pathway from the second floor down to where he sat. The chandelier had flipped over and fallen off to one side.

The girl was still standing where she had through the entire ordeal, hands held over her mouth in shock. Ico stood and walked to the slanting bridge to look up at her.

“Hey!” he called out. “It’s not pretty, but I think you can walk down that. Come on. Just watch where you step.”

Perhaps she was frightened, but the girl did not move. Ico climbed up the incline of the bridge, using his hands to crawl on all fours.

“If you’re scared, you can just slide down on your bottom. It’s like a slide.”

The girl shook her head. She appeared to be smiling. As if to say, That’s hardly something to suggest to a young lady.

Something touched Ico’s heart-gentle and warm-reminding him of a time long past.

“You can just take it a little bit at a time. You won’t fall,” he said, smiling and glad that she had smiled at him.

In the end, he had to help her down all the way, one eye always on the railing where the bodies in his vision had hung. He wondered if the ropes had left any marks, and it made his stomach turn.

The railing was coated in dust accumulated over the years, plus a fresh layer from the recent collapse. The stone was rough to the touch and hurt his hand.

When he finally reached the bottom with the girl, Ico brushed the dust off himself and straightened out his Mark. He picked up a candle that had fallen by his feet, thinking it might be useful later. Sticking it in his trousers, he looked around for something that might serve as a weapon to replace the extinguished torch he had left up above. Eventually, he settled on the leg of a chair. He picked it up. It was the perfect weight in his hand.

He looked over at the girl to find she had her back turned to him and was looking across the room in the direction the knight had been walking in Ico’s vision atop the chandelier. She was looking intently, concern on her face. Like she could sense something tugging at her memory there.

Quietly, Ico gave the girl’s shawl a gentle tug. She looked around and their eyes met.

Ico had many questions, many doubts, but the fresh breeze blowing in through the open double doors and the shining lawn beyond blew them from his mind and beckoned him outside.

Joining hands, they walked through the doors. Ico could feel the softness of the ground and the grass through the leather of his sandals. It gave him hope and filled him with new energy.

Around the wide lawn under the sun was a terrace and a walkway that led to a large arched bridge awaiting them.

8

THOUGH THE INTERIOR of the castle was a maze, out here there was nothing to stop them. Maybe it was the distance between his eyes and the sun and sky above that made him feel free. Here, high walls around the garden blocked the wind that howled incessantly in the corridors of the towers and across the high balconies.

They cut straight through the grassy courtyard, passing under a small walking bridge. There was a drawbridge here too, but it didn’t take long for Ico to figure out how to lower it, and they crossed without difficulty. A short while later, they came to a deep waterway, over which the two of them stood, casting their shadows down upon it. The water was a good distance below them and too dark for Ico to clearly make out their reflections. Still, he could see the silhouettes that they formed on the water’s surface, which somehow relieved him. If the girl had a reflection, then she wasn’t a spirit or a ghost.

A thick copper pipe ran along the wall above the waterway. The pipe climbed up the side of the walls-which were too high for even Ico to scale-twisting and bending before disappearing into the castle. The elder had taught him that they had pipes like these in the capital to carry water to the center of town, so that people wouldn’t have to dig wells or go fetch water from the river. He’d seen a number of pipes as the guards rowed him across the inlet when he first arrived at the castle, and so there must have been a number of pipes running along these walls for the convenience of people living here-but what made them all run? However it once functioned, it didn’t seem to be working now and probably hadn’t for some time.

It frustrated him to know so little about the castle. The wonders he saw here might be commonplace in the temples of the capital, but he had no way of knowing. He wondered if he would ever get the chance to find out. They returned to the center of the courtyard. The sunlight glinted off the grass, and it was hot enough to make Ico sweat. Ahead of them, stairs led to a heavy stone arch.

“Just a little more,” he said to the girl, then hurried, pulling her along. He didn’t want to get caught in such a large area surrounded by those shadow creatures.

Sweat dripped from his brow, but he reflected on how strange it was that since meeting the girl, he had felt neither hunger nor fatigue. Normally he would never have been able to run so far without stopping.

The two ran to the arch, where Ico saw what he had been hoping to find-the one place in the castle he had seen before entering its walls. They were at the front gate. Its doors were still open wide, pointing out toward the water.

“We made it!” Ico practically whooped for joy. He pointed at the gate. “Now we can get out of here!”

He felt dizzy with relief. Unable to stand still, he held both the girl’s hands and jumped for joy.

The only thing between them and the massive gate was a long path, as wide as the gate itself, covered in soft grass. Cobblestones had been laid down its center, and pairs of tall torch stands stood like sentries on either side. The torches were useless under the sun, but even so they seemed to welcome him, beckoning like outstretched arms, showing him the way out.

“Let’s go!”

Pulling on the girl’s hand, he ran. Run. Run! Ico’s mind was already ahead of him, floating somewhere near the gate. He wouldn’t let anything get in their way now. The gate was so large that even as he ran, he felt like he wasn’t getting any closer. It was like chasing after the moon. No, I’ll get there. Each step is taking me closer to escape. Closer to freedom.

The gate towered in front of them. He wondered what kind of stone had been used to build such a massive structure. From this distance, he couldn’t see any of the seams one might expect in something so large.

At the top of each of the gate’s hinges stood massive round orbs, sparkling quietly beneath the sun. He remembered catching a glimpse of one of them from the boat on his way in, reflecting the sunlight down onto him.

Just then, the girl gave a terrified scream. Their hands were wrenched apart.

The girl had fallen on the cobblestones, tumbling to the base of one of the torch stands. Ico was moving so fast that he fell forward, tripping over his own feet. When he stood, he froze at what he saw. Still screaming, the girl was clawing at her face and body, her legs writhing in pain.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” he asked, crawling toward the girl but unable to bring himself to touch her. She twisted and turned as though her skin was on fire. Something unseen was attacking her, invisible talons raking her body. Ico whirled around, looking for more of the shadow creatures. But there was nothing in the courtyard but the sun and the grass.

They had covered half of the distance to the main gate. If they stood up and ran, they’d be there in no time. There was salt on the wind. Just a little farther and they would be able to hear the waves.

Ico felt the wind on his cheek-not the gentle breeze blowing in from the sea, but a cold, bracing wind rushing down from the Castle in the Mist.

Ico raised his eyes and saw something gathering in the air above the girl. It was the wind-he could see it. It came together in threads, slender whips forming in thin air, then entwining. Countless tongues of lightning flashed without sound in the gathering darkness of the cloud.

Individually, the threads had no shape or color, but when they flowed together, they formed a figure there in the sky-a gathering of dark motes that absorbed the light, waxing stronger as they coalesced, giving off a brilliance that was the opposite of light.

Still on his knees, Ico braced himself. Then his hands fell to the ground and his mouth dropped open when he saw the figure coalescing above the girl. It was not a creature of smoke that appeared there. Though it took form in much the same way, its shape was far more human than any of the creatures he had seen within the castle.

A woman. She wore a wide gown that flowed around her, with elegant embroidery along the sleeves and hem. Her face was small and gaunt, with sunken cheeks and a sharp chin. Her skin was white as bone, her features glowing with the same dull gleam as the eyes of the shadow creatures. But unlike the creatures, this woman’s eyes were pools of darkness. Though she had no pupils, Ico could tell she was looking straight at him. She spread her arms like a swooping falcon, her sleeves billowing.

This was the same woman in black Ico had seen praying before the idols in his vision.

The tolling of a bell came from somewhere in the Castle in the Mist. The bell rang slow and deep, and at its signal, the massive doors of the gate behind Ico began to close, cutting off the sea wind. The girl lay still on the ground, unconscious. Ico gasped and tried to grab her. Stand up! We have to go! The gates are closing-

Then, floating above them, waves of dark mist lapping at her feet, the woman in black spoke. “Who are you?” she demanded, her voice twisting and bending through the air as though her voice itself were made of smoke. “What are you doing here?” The sound of her voice rose and fell, like a conversation overheard from beyond a wall.

Ico held his arm around the girl’s body, sheltering her. He stared up at the woman in black, his breath ragged through his open mouth. He couldn’t look away. He couldn’t move.

I shouldn’t answer her. The elder, Oneh, and every scary fairy tale he had ever heard had all told him that if you ever met a demon in the woods, even if it called you by name, you were not to answer. Answer, and it would have your soul. Instead, you must close your eyes and tell yourself that what you were seeing didn’t exist. Close your heart to it, else the demon would steal its way in.

“I see your filthy horns, boy. You are a Sacrifice. What is a Sacrifice doing leaving his stone coffin, coming all the way out here?” Even when he closed his eyes and pressed his hands over his ears, the woman’s voice wouldn’t go away.

He opened his eyes again, and they met the woman’s black gaze, two pools like fathomless swamps. Ico shivered and scrambled back. His right hand reflexively went to the Mark on his chest.

The woman’s eyes, black scars on her white face, narrowed. “What’s this?”

The bell rang, its sound echoing through the courtyard. The gates were already halfway closed now. Their shadows stretched all the way to where Ico and the girl lay on the ground.

“I see,” the woman said, nodding. “You are a particularly lucky Sacrifice. Thank your luck and leave my castle. I’ve spared your life once. Begone before I have a change of heart.”

My castle-this woman was the master of the castle?

“Wh-who-” Ico stammered, trying to stand. Then he was on his feet before the woman. “Are you the master here?” he asked, forgetting the warnings for the moment.

“Yes. I am master of the Castle in the Mist. I am queen of all who live in its shadow.”

The woman moved her right hand, lifting a finger and pointing it directly at Ico’s nose. Though what he felt now was so different, somehow the gesture reminded him of the way the girl had pointed at him when she first stepped from the cage.

The queen of the castle was incredibly thin, even down to her fingers. She wasn’t just old-she seemed almost a skeleton. The sharp nail on her outstretched finger gleamed like a slice of obsidian.

“Sacrifice. Your life is in my hands. If you do not wish to suffer the same fate as your comrades, leave. Now.”

His fear mingled with his determination, and his heart raced. He ran to the girl’s side and tried to lift her in his arms.

“Take your hands off the girl!” the queen said, her voice slicing the air. A sharp, cold wind hit Ico’s neck like a blade.

“She is not for you to touch, Sacrifice. Do you know who this girl is?”

I want to know.

He shivered and looked up at the queen. He meant to sound defiant, but his voice quavered pitifully. “It doesn’t matter who she is! She’s trapped here. She’s a Sacrifice, like me! I’m taking her with me!”

The queen’s pointed chin lifted and her face twisted. Ico’s legs turned to jelly beneath him. The queen began to laugh.

The girl moved, getting her arms beneath her and rising halfway to look up at the queen. She looked like she was going to cry.

Ico stepped to the side, kneeling by the girl. He put his hand on her shoulder and could feel her tremble. The girl was transfixed by the sight of the queen.

The queen sensed that she was being watched, and her laughter faded as she looked down at the girl. Even though she was still half lying on the ground, Ico could feel her recoil at the queen’s gaze.

The queen spoke more slowly now, weaving her words as she called to the girl. “Yorda,” she said, “my dear Yorda.”

This time, Ico flinched. His hand tensed on the girl’s shoulder and he looked at the queen. She was staring only at the girl now. As she was entranced by the queen, so too could the queen not take her eyes from her. Their eyes met.

“Did you hear what this brazen boy has said? He called you a Sacrifice! How unfathomably rude. Does he not know that you are my beloved daughter?”

Ico felt the strength leave his legs. His arms dropped to the ground.

Yorda did not reply but instead lowered her face to the ground as though she might escape the queen’s eyes. She lifted her hand to her mouth. Even her fingers trembled.

“That can’t be right,” Ico stammered. “There’s no way she’s your daughter!”

“Oh?” The queen looked at him, smiling. “You doubt my words? You are as foolish as you are headstrong!”

Ico stood quickly and charged at the queen. Laughing, she waved her bony hand at him-her slightest gesture was enough to send him tumbling across the stones.

“You should know your place, Sacrifice-and it is far, far from me.” The queen’s smile faded and her eyes glowed like black flames in the pale moonscape of her face. “I should kill you just for leading her around the castle!”

Ico stood on unsteady feet. “If she really is your daughter, why did you imprison her in a cage? It doesn’t make any sense!”

The queen’s pointed chin lifted and she laughed again-a short laugh, like the bark of a dog. “The lowly Sacrifice would admonish me! What I choose to do with my daughter is none of your concern.”

Ico made to charge her again. The queen raised a clawlike nail, but Yorda stepped between them. Without a word, Yorda stretched out her arms in front of Ico, holding him back. Ico looked into her eyes and she shook her head, pleading with him.

The queen’s eyes narrowed. “Look at that. It seems Yorda pities you.” She seemed more bemused than upset. “Your luck is twofold, lowly Sacrifice. I will spare your life a second time, for Yorda’s sake. Now leave. Yet I will not suffer you to leave by the front gates through which I once walked in glory, surrounded by the cheers and admiration of my people.”

Almost as if they had been waiting for those very words, the giant gates closed fully, shaking the earth with the sound. The light that had come streaming through was cut off, casting the entire courtyard in shadow.

The tolling of the bell ceased.

“I am sure a crawler in the earth such as yourself will have no trouble finding a suitable exit. Wriggle from a crack in the wall if you must, miserable vermin. Or perhaps you would prefer to dig at the earth with your claws and escape through a tunnel of your own making? But you will find a way, and you will leave.”

Though there was no wind, Ico’s Mark stirred. The queen frowned, her eyes flashing. Ico recalled the queen frowning before when he had touched his Mark-as though she found it distasteful.

He began to walk toward the queen, placing his hand directly over the Mark and focusing all his thoughts on it. Wrapped in robes of swirling darkness, the queen stared him down. Ico glared back.

“If you are truly the master of this castle, then the Sacrifices are being offered to you, right? Why? What is it all for?” Ico asked quickly, his feet firmly planted. “Those black smoke creatures in the castle-they were Sacrifices too, weren’t they? You turned them into those things with your magic. You’re no queen at all. Queens are good, noble people with kind hearts. They don’t make innocent people sacrifice their children. You’re a liar. You’re a witch!”

The more he talked, the angrier he became, until Ico was practically shouting. The queen waved her hand as though swatting away a fly, and Ico flew backward. This time he went even farther, making an arc through the air before landing on the cobblestones shoulder first. Blood rose on his cheek where it scraped the ground.

Ico felt dizzy, and he ached all over. He was having trouble breathing, and white spots filled his vision.

“That’s enough of your mewling, little creature,” the queen said in a cold, echoing voice. “Now, Yorda. Back to the castle. Do not waste your time with this Sacrifice. You forget who you are.”

Ico blinked, but his vision would not clear. He tried focusing on the queen, still hovering in space, and Yorda beneath her, hunched over on the cobblestones and cowering in fright.

“Don’t listen to her, Yorda!”

Ico heard his own voice sounding like it came to him over a great distance. His tongue wasn’t moving the way he wanted it to. He thought he saw the queen gesture, and for the third time he flew through the air, hitting the ground hard as he landed beside the girl. She’s toying with me. Ico felt like his ribs might break. Cuts covered his knees and elbows.

Yorda threw herself over Ico, protecting him with her body. She looked up at the queen, shaking her head, pleading.

“Why do you show mercy to one so low?” the queen asked. “This castle will one day be yours. You are my body. You will reign over the Castle in the Mist with my heart, and wait for the day when we rule in glory once more. Do not tell me you have forgotten?”

In his half-conscious state, Ico was dimly aware that Yorda was crying.

“Or perhaps you have tired of waiting? Still, you may not go against your destiny. Listen well, Yorda. You and I are one. When the time comes, you will realize what a great blessing this is.”

The queen’s form began to fade. Ico decided it wasn’t his vision failing, she really was leaving. “Sacrifice,” she addressed him. “Leave at once. You will not get another chance. And do not waste your time with my daughter. She lives in a different world than some boy with horns.”

The queen’s dark robes of mist began to dissipate. Then, in a reverse performance of her grand entrance, she unraveled into the wind.

Ico lay sprawled across the cobblestones. Yorda was close to his side, hands on the stones, crying. It was the only sound in the courtyard. Ico looked over at Yorda. Her tears fell, making little dark spots on the stones that quickly dried and were gone. It was almost as if the shadow cast by the castle refused to acknowledge her sorrow.

Ico tried lifting his head, and a stabbing pain ran through his neck. He yelped, and Yorda turned to look at him, streaks on her face where the tears had run.

Their eyes met. Seeing Yorda cry made Ico want to cry too.

“Is it true?” he asked in a weak voice.

Yorda wiped away her tears and said nothing.

“Yorda…your name ’s Yorda, right?”

Yorda’s hand stopped, half covering her face. She nodded.

Ico rested his head on the stones. He could feel the strength ebbing out of his body. “So the witch, the queen…is your mother.”

Yorda nodded again. Curling up on the stones, she turned her back to Ico.

“So you weren’t a Sacrifice after all,” he said, more to himself than to her. “You know,” Ico continued in a whisper, “when I hold your hand, I see things. Visions. And the queen was in one of them. I saw the knight with a broken horn from the old bridge too. And even you, when you were little.”

Yorda did not turn to face him, so Ico talked to her back. “When we were on the trolley, you were there with your father.” Gritting his teeth against the pain, he lifted his head and managed to sit up. He hurt in so many different places, he wasn’t even sure which places they were. Even his eyes were growing hot with the tears that threatened to come.

“You were riding with him, playing. It seemed like you two were close.”

Yorda had stopped crying. She looked up, focusing on something far away.

“Where did your father go?” Ico asked then. “Did he die? Did your mother keep you locked up all the time? Tell me, Yorda. What is going on in this castle? It wasn’t always like this, was it? It’s different in the visions. What happened to the beautiful Castle in the Mist where you used to play?”

Yorda whispered something, a short word. Though he heard it clearly, Ico couldn’t understand.

She moved her legs, coming closer to Ico. She extended a slender arm and touched the scrape on Ico’s cheek. He felt warmth. It seemed to flow from Yorda’s fingertips into his body, filling him.

The woven Mark on his tunic began to glow from the inside. Ico’s eyes went wide.

The pain in his body was disappearing.

Blood stopped flowing from the cuts and scrapes on his skin and began to dry. His bruises faded. His joints, stiff with pain, moved smoothly again.

Ico spread his hands and looked down at his healing body. The Mark was glowing faintly, like a firefly on a summer night, pulsing in pace with the beating of Ico’s heart.

When the last scrape had disappeared, the Mark’s glow faded. Yorda let her fingers fall from Ico’s cheek.

Ico stared at Yorda’s face. It was beautiful. He didn’t dare breathe for fear of breaking the spell. Her eyes were sparkling.

“Thank you,” he said.

Yorda began to smile, but her smile wilted halfway, and her lips turned down at the corners. She lowered her eyes.

“I think you have the same power as my Mark,” Ico said. “Or maybe you have the power to make my Mark work better. You know what the elder said? They said as long as I had this Mark, I would never lose to the castle.”

Ico took Yorda’s hands in his own. “You didn’t want to be locked in a cage, did you? You want to leave here, right? I’ll take you with me.”

Yorda shook her head vigorously, but Ico did not give up.

“You have power, Yorda. More than the castle. And I have the Mark. Didn’t you see how the queen looked at it? She said she was sparing my life, but the truth is she couldn’t kill me.”

It was nothing more than a guess, but when Ico said it he felt sure he was right. If the queen really were that powerful, she wouldn’t have stopped at threatening him. She would have snapped him like a twig right there and then.

Filled with hope, Ico looked into Yorda’s eyes. He felt like he was looking into an hourglass, trying to pick through the grains of sand for some truth buried there long ago. He hadn’t found anything yet, but the warmth of Yorda’s hands in his told him that he was getting close.