A/N: Shadow of Colossus is perhaps one of the most tragic games ever made. This is my first SOTC fic...and a tribute to the game, the bittersweet epic.
Takes place when Wander goes in search of the 13th Colossus.
Warnings: MAY contain SPOILERS for the END. Read at your own risk.
The Hopeless Journey
The young man shielded his eyes from the scalding sand, as a strong dry wind blazed across the dessert plains, like a gust of steam.
It was a particularly hot day and the agitated sand clung to his cloths, still damp from the previous battle.
But when he spotted a small temple in the distance, his heart lifted with a tiny glimmer of hope. He had ridden without stop for the past couple of days (or was it weeks? he couldn't remember, how was one supposed to track time, when it was always daylight?), without rest or sleep stopping only to kill. But now as he rode to look for the trail that drifted through the dessert (as Dormin put it), his body begged him, every muscle hurt, his hands were sore from climbing, covered with blisters and wounds from the scrapped skin, now turning septic; making the reins he held slippery with blood and sweat.
But this was Dormin's shrine, maybe a few moments rest would help, maybe the pain wouldn't seem so bad when he finished praying. So he brought his allegiant steed to a halt in front of the tiny moss covered temple, and jumped from the saddle. An act he was used to doing with ease back in the place of his birth, but now as his feet hit the ground every bone cried out in protest, and waves of pain ripped through his body. He felt dizzy; his head hurt from all the sun.
He had an almost limping gait as he walked towards the glowing altar and kneeled, praying had always helped, this after all was Dormin's shrine…and he had to go on…he bowed his head ….'Give me strength for the next battle, please…let me live through it'… he prayed, maybe it was more of a desperate plea than a prayer, but right now, he didn't care… 'Please let me live till I defeat the 16th colossus'….'it was your wish, so give me strength to complete it' he finished.
But Dormin always seemed to give him strength.
Though he was exhausted, though every limb hurt, though his skin was unnaturally pale, and he sometimes seemed to fade out, riding vast distances without awareness or consciousness; every stab he made seemed to do greater damage, and though he felt drained, he could hold on to the colossus for longer and longer periods of time.
What was happening to him?
He shook his head, as he recalled Dormin's words, warning him of the price of his quest.
He smiled; a short bark like laugh that was a cross between a laugh and a sob. Didn't he reply that it didn't matter? So why was he worried now?
But it hurt…it hurt so very much, it hurt when he plunged his sword into a beast that only attacked back when attacked, that was relatively peaceful and seldom ventured out of its territory, it hurt to hear it's death cry as the light went out of its eyes. And the silent question each one seemed to ask him as its life ran out:
'Why? Why us? What did we do? What did I do?'
And it hurt when the Black Tendrils ripped through him...God, the Black Tendrils, every time they pierced him, it was like being shredded apart from inside, like his body was being torn by something alive within him, a creature that wanted to rip out of (or into) him. If he could describe it, it would be like being stabbed with a sword, that exploded into a million swords inside his body...he didn't know what they were or what they were made off. They looked like shadowy snakes, maybe made of smoke, but were hard as steel as they punctured him...and the unconsciousness that followed was a mercy when it came. And when he woke back at the temple, there would be a dull ache throughout his body, as if someone had ripped him up and sewn him back again.
At first he thought they were the last desperate attack of a dying beast...but now he knew better...every colossus couldn't possibly have the same dying attack...each one after all was unique to its environment and fighting style. Besides if it was an attack, he would be able to dodge it or escape, but the tendrils seemed to pierce through even physical obstacles like rocks and stones to get him...so what WERE they?
He didn't know, even though Dormin's chilling words again echoed through his head..."the price would be heavy indeed. Maybe this was the price? Maybe he was slowly dying ...maybe his life was the price he would have to pay in exchange for Mono's...he didn't know, but he didn't dare question the God (or Demon)...what if he offended him?
If Dormin had wanted, they would have offered an explanation wouldn't they? After all Dormin's presence was everywhere in the forbidden lands. But the only thing the disembodied entity seemed to speak to him was the description of his next foe...passively observing what was happening to him…so he didn't ask, and he didn't complain, and kept trudging on through this solitary quest...even though he felt drained, even though every fiber hurt...
He lifted his head, and realized he was leaning against the alter, no longer keeling to pray. His vision was hazy and blurred...Agro was just a black haze a few feet away. He shook his head to clear himself...but the action caused such a wave of nausea that he leaned over and threw up, retching painfully as he did so, he clutched his chest panting, as he threw up a dark red liquid...was it blood?
He stared at it in horror, eyes wide...it was a dark reddish black, instead of bright red ! (It's just a trick of the light...just a trick of the light, I'm tired that's all)...but what about his arms and neck...? What about the black streaks spread across them…? He had once checked his reflection in a pool and had been shocked by how pale his skin was, his once boyish features, now looked ashen, corpselike...and the black streaks...they spread across his neck, face and arms like whip marks...made even more apparent by the deathly paleness of his skin...and his hair, his hair was no longer the vibrant red it had been, but a dark dirty black...(it's the sand and dust, it'll go away if I wash it )...but no, it won't go away! He knew it with as much certainty as he knew he was alone in these desolate plains.
A gust of wind rushed past him, wafting up the odor of his tattered and bloody robes, they reeked of blood, both human and colossi, he had not bothered to stop to wash them or treat his injuries, but after the 16th battle, he didn't think he would need too.
He leaned back against the alter wincing, took a few shallow gasps of breath and closed his eyes. Four more times he would have to endure it…four more times he would slay beasts that were so majestic it took his breath away, beasts that held no animosity towards him and only attacked for self-defense… four more times the Black Tendrils would skewer through him, and the pain that followed would make him forget the world….and four more times, he would hear her voice!
Maybe he would not live to see her awaken (and in his heart he knew with an inscrutable certainty that it was the truth, that the 16th Colossus would be his last fight one way or the other), but it did not matter as long as she did awaken!
If only Wander had been a little older, he would have realized the futility of this mission, the horror of the fate he had damned himself to, but he was young, a boy hardly seventeen years old, and in love, madly in love!
Besides in a way he felt responsible, Mono had trusted him, had fallen in love with him...but he had been too weak to protect her...he had let her die!
She had not asked to be saved...no, she had known, had known it would be a losing battle for one man to rise against Emon and his men. She had gone, resigned and willing to the sacrificial altar...to protect him…and he had been helpless to stop that….and that sense of guilt, that helplessness... killed him!
What was his pain compared to hers? What was his sacrifice compared to hers?
So, he would go on, had to go on, even when his body begged for rest, even when he seemed to be losing his very soul… and even when pain was the only feeling left. He would not stop…because he was afraid if he stopped he would no longer have the strength to get back up again.
And he would do it all because he owed her and because he loved her….just as much as she had loved him!
A cool shadow fell across him…Agro! He smiled faintly at her and reached out to pet her dusty mane, when he realized how tired she too was. Her glossy black coat was dusty and brown, and her silky mane was dirty, matted. He had been forcing her to go on and on far beyond her limit….and she had compiled without complaint.
"Agro…." He whispered and hugged her neck, now that mono was gone, she was his only companion.
She nuzzled softly in his ear, the firm warmness of her breath giving him a semblance of strength.
He had come this far, and there was no way he could turn back, so the best thing (and the only thing) would be to move forward.
So he got up, ignoring the spear of pain in his chest, and unsheathed his sword, holding it to the sun, until it pointed to a spot far north of the shrine.
That is where he would find his next foe.
He mounted his faithful companion and started riding towards that spot, sword held out to show the way.
Maybe this fight would be easier, maybe the colossi's souls would forgive him and maybe the pain wouldn't be too bad when the Black Tendrils ripped through him this time.
He had to hope.
After all what other choice did he have?
A/N: So that was me, after a long, long time (yes, I'm alive). It's been ages since I logged in and so much has changed, but my old account's still here :)
Thank you for reading, if you liked the fic or feel there is room for improvement please let me know, reviews are appreciated.
