ICO: Castle in the Mist Read Free

lot of things, Ico, but I never figured you for a coward.”
    “Think of what will happen to the village if I run. Without a Sacrifice, the Castle in the Mist would grow angry.”
    Not just the village. The capital too would be destroyed, all in the space of a night. No, he thought, there probably wouldn’t even be time to blink.
    “So what if the castle gets angry?” Toto asked, growing angry himself. “What’s so scary about the castle anyway? My parents won’t ever talk to me about it—Mom practically covers her ears and runs when I ask questions.”
    It wasn’t that Toto’s parents didn’t want to talk about it—they were forbidden to talk about it. It was part of their custom, because they knew that the Castle in the Mist was always wary. Not even a curse could be whispered under the breath. And the castle suffered no one to challenge its authority. No one.
    “When you turn fifteen, they’ll hold the ceremony for you,” Ico told him. “You’ll learn what it means then. The elder will tell you everything.”
    “That’s great,” Toto said, a bit too loud, “but I want to know now! How do they expect me to just sit here and accept it until they think I’m ready? Once they take you off to the castle, you know you’re not coming back, right? Well, that doesn’t work for me. I’m not going to just stand around and let that happen.”
    “But, Toto, I am the Sacrifice.”
    “Because you got horns growing out of your head? Why does that make you anything? Who thought all this crap up anyway?”
    It’s just the way it is, Ico wanted to say, but he held himself back.
    “You know something, don’t you?” Toto’s voice suddenly grew much quieter. “Tell me, Ico. I have to know.”
    Ico slumped. Hadn’t the elder told him—in a tone that left no room for interpretation—not to speak of what he knew, of what he had seen?
    It was already several days ago that Ico’s horns had grown suddenly in the space of a night and the elder had taken him over the Forbidden Mountains. They had ridden on horseback for three days to the north, going where not even the hunters dared tread. They saw no one on the road, no birds flying overhead, no rabbits in the underbrush, no tracks of foxes in the soft mud left by rains the day before.
    Why were the mountains forbidden? Why did no one come this way? Why were there no birds or animals to be seen? All of Ico’s questions melted like a springtime snow when they reached the top of the pass and he saw what lay on the other side.
    “I brought you here to show you the horror the Castle in the Mist has wrought, the depth of its rage—and the true meaning of your sacrifice,” the elder told him. “Only the Sacrifice can quell the castle’s wrath and prevent this tragedy from happening again. Look well upon it. Carve the sight deep within your heart. Then fulfill your duty and do not think of flight.”
    The elder’s words still rang in his ears.
    Ico had known he was to be the Sacrifice since he was a child. He had been raised for this purpose and none other.
    Ico’s daily life had been no different from that of any other child in the village. When he was bad, he was scolded; when he was good, he was praised. He tended the fields and the animals. He learned how to read and write, he swam in the rivers and climbed in the trees. The days went by quickly, and he slept soundly at night. Before his horns poked out from beneath his hair, even Ico often forgot they were there at all.
    And yet, he knew that he was the Sacrifice, that he was different from the other children. The elder told him that often, almost every day. What he had seen across the Forbidden Mountains, however, had a greater impact on Ico than any words. It made him painfully aware, beyond a doubt, of the weight of his burden. Ico reached up, absentmindedly brushing the tip of one of his horns with a finger. Here was the proof that he was the one chosen to prevent calamity, to save his people.
    How could I