The bridge was collapsed, no, severed, in the middle. The statue of Ozuma stood on the far side, back turned to Ico. From here, he was so distant, he looked barely larger than Ico’s upraised finger.
My child, a voice said in Ico’s mind. You and your brothers have borne the great burden of my sin these many years. Yet after all this time, nothing changes, and I remain bound here to the Castle in the Mist.
For the first time, Ico had the strong sense that he was Ozuma’s child, his descendant, the bearer of his blood. He felt like running to him, up to that motionless figure, and screaming, Why did this happen? Why?
But what he said was, “What do you want me to do about it?” Ico felt the rage rise inside him and just as quickly slip away, as though his body were too weary to hold on to it. He sobbed quietly. “What am I supposed to do?”
There was love here, the voice said.
Ico blinked. The seagull was hovering, flying against the wind only a few arm spans away from him, its beady black eyes watching him for a moment before it angled its wings and sped off into the distance.
Ico walked up to where the bridge had crumbled. He looked down over the ragged edge at the rolling waves far below, the deep greens and light blues swirling beneath white foam. The castle might be frozen in time, but all around it the sea was alive, in motion.
The sound of crashing waves rose up from beneath his feet, wrapping around him. Ico squinted, looking toward the statue of Ozuma. He couldn’t leave Yorda here alone, Ico thought. Even after she became the cage of time, he returned here to be her protector. He chose this.
Why? Because he regretted his powerlessness, his inability to defeat the darkness?
Was he just trying to live up to the expectations of the empire?
Or maybe he had realized that there was no place for him in the world outside.
No, Ico thought. That’s not it. It was because he couldn’t save Yorda. He couldn’t leave her to bear the burden of his failure alone. He, who reminded her so much of her own father when she was a little girl.
That’s why Ozuma returned and remained.
Ico’s heart ached as though he had been stabbed. He gave a cry and fell forward onto his knees, hands to his chest where his Mark was glowing brightly.
There was love here, the voice said again.
But whose love, Ico wondered. He had assumed Ozuma was talking about the queen and her daughter-but maybe…
From the very first time he had seen her, Ico had wanted to save Yorda. There had been no thought, no reason-when he saw her in the cage, he knew he had to set her free.
Ico shook his head. I didn’t know anything then. I could just do what my heart told me to do. But not anymore. Right?
With his newfound knowledge, why should he care about Yorda? Why should he worry about saving her if she wasn’t to be saved?
I could leave her and escape this place.
Or I could take her with me and become a fugitive of the empire. The thief who stole the lock holding time in place over the castle. He wondered what the rulers would do if he took her and escaped, and kept running, and running.
They would probably find another cage to trap time. But would that save Yorda? Would it save me?
There was another alternative. He could choose to serve the queen, fight against the empire that made his people sacrifices. With the queen’s strength behind him, victory was certain. Then he would serve the queen, and they would rule the world.
But what of Yorda? What would she think, she who had wept even as she aided her mother’s enemies in an attempt to destroy her?
And Toto? Could he be brought back to life by the queen’s power? Would he even be my friend if he did come back? Would he forgive me?
Ico grabbed the intricate woven lines of the Mark tighter, trying to catch the rainbow brilliance that ran along its curves. Then it felt as though the world had brightened around him.
Toto’s courage, Yorda’s pleas-how could he turn his back on their tears?
My child, Ozuma said to him. Ico looked up, smoothing the rumpled cloth of his tunic with his hands.
Go find the sword. The sword calls to you. Take it in your hands and you will know the way.
Ico looked down at his empty palms. The sea breeze whipped through his hair. “Will the sword let me defeat the queen? Will I be able to save Yorda then? I don’t think so. I don’t-” without realizing it, Ico had begun to shout. “Why couldn’t you wield the sword again yourself? Why couldn’t you defeat the queen?”
The sword rested in a cave beneath the castle, still imbued with the power of the Book of Light-why hadn’t Ozuma tried using it again? Was he prevented somehow? Was no one in the empire able to do it?
Now that Ico thought about it, it struck him as extremely curious. There must have been many people in the empire that knew about the sword-the priest and the temple guards who led him here were just a few of them. They had even used it. Had no one thought to raise that sword against the queen? Did they think it was enough to cage her? Had they denied the truth of the situation for so long?
Why didn’t they do what had to be done?
Because our minds were closed. Ozuma’s voice rose and fell with the sound of the waves. Because all that we saw was within her hands, we saw only what the queen wished us to see.
“That’s no different than me,” Ico muttered, shoulders drooping. “I’ve been wandering through the castle forever, not even sure where I’m going. I’ve just been running in circles in the palm of her hand.”
Ozuma spoke again, a smile in his voice. His words were gentle, reminding Ico of the first time he had seen the knight’s face up close.
My child. You already know the truth-you are the only one not caught in the queen’s embrace.
“How do I know that? How can I be sure?”
Remember the queen’s words. Remember the elder’s words. The knowledge and courage once separated have come together again in you.
The wind picked up, and Ico staggered several steps backward. He could feel Ozuma’s presence slipping away. The warmth he had felt coming from the distant statue had faded.
Maybe that was all the strength he had. Or maybe he left.
I’m alone.
He touched the Mark again. Its glow had faded. And with it the understanding that had been so close-
What did he mean I already know? Know what?
Maybe getting the sword would solve that mystery. Unfortunately, that presented another problem. Ico didn’t relish the idea of another aimless trip through the castle in search of a way down.
Ico looked up at the sky. The sun was still shining. The world still moved outside the castle.
Then it hit him. Ico’s eyes went wide. The castle is the queen’s domain. No wonder I can’t get anywhere running around in here.
I have to leave the castle.
It felt like a ray of sunlight had penetrated the clouds of his mind.
This was the answer he had been looking for. The sword was calling to him, beckoning him. If he could escape the queen’s clutches, the sword would draw him to it. That’s what Ozuma was saying.
Ico stepped forward again, looking down at the sea. The water swirled around the foot of the pillars. White froth sprayed into the air. He licked his lips and tasted salt. The sea was moving beneath him.