Ah, it's been so long. But I still don't own more than a copy of this game. Alas.
Oh well. Here we go again! Oh, in this chapter and the next, it's more of a memory than a dream. Memories can be every bit as strange as dreams, can't they? But which one is more accurate...?
Visions—part three
Don't Despair
The sun was low in the sky, sending inviting shafts of light along the bridge. Faintly, the small scratching of forest creatures could be heard. The stone walkways had connected. It was a long bridge, but it was there. Freedom was just on the other side.
Grinning, a small horned boy…Ico… tore his gaze away and turned to the girl behind him. Concern overrode his joy as he saw her condition. He threw a longing glance over his shoulder, but hurried back to kneel beside her.
The girl…Yorda… had collapsed. Her small white hands had fisted around loose stones. Her body heaved in time with her breathing as she forced air into her body. She looked utterly drained, gasping on her knees. As Ico knelt beside her, she looked up. He held out his hand. She smiled weakly and took it.
Together, they stood up. Yorda swayed a little, instinctively hunching over. Both of her hands were twined around Ico's arm for support. Murmuring encouragement, the small horned boy led them slowly along the bridge. Pausing a little way onto the bridge, Ico peered over the edge. The river swept innocently along far below.
They were halfway across when Yorda began to cough. The stones began to grumble, the bridge was pulling apart once again. Yorda she fell back roughly. Still weak, she did not struggle as she was pulled back to the castle.
Ico landed lightly on the opposite side. He looked back quickly, ready to catch Yorda as she leapt. Her slight body never came. Ico stared at the girl, motionless on the stone. He turned away. She lifted her head slowly and stared at his back.
Ico was leaving her, walking for the forest at the end of the bridge. Yorda watched him go and did not cry out.
The shriek of metal rang throughout the chamber. The inanimate scream rose as the sword was pushed deeper, deeper through flesh and stone. Abruptly, it was silenced, sending echoes out into the hall.
Yorda woke immediately.
Calmly, the black spirit looked around the empty hall. Flexing long, black fingers, making a fist, spreading both hands wide, it waited for the sound to fade from the air. Rolling easily to its feet, the black spirit stood. Softly, a hollow clack floated out of the room. The barely audible sound was far more chilling than the scream of the sword that preceded it.
With a body black as night, Yorda turned and left the hall.
TBC
Onward and upward! Nyahahaha! I'm soooo glad this computer is back from Arizona now…-purrs like a cat-