His dreams had been peaceful lately. Sometimes it made him sad, but it was nothing like the nightmares from before. It was strange how the mood changed when the content itself did not. Tonight, Ico dreamed.

Once again, he was at the castle. Stone coffins lined the walls and the spirit of each sacrificed child circled around one figure. He knew who it was before he even arrived. Twisted shapes of shadows looked at Yorda. Their glowing blue eyes never left her. Ico walked between them, gently laying his hand on their arms as he passed.

Yorda looked nothing as how he remembered her. She was a shadow, too. Although she had no eyes like them, he could feel when she looked at him.

"I'll end this," he said. "I promise. I'll make it stop."

She did not speak. She did not have to. Her hand gently touched his right horn, light as a feather. He could not feel any warmth nor cold from her touch, it was just a presence he knew. Even without words, he could feel a sense of sadness from her. He closed his eyes.

It won't happen again, he thought. Ozuma would be the last to walk through these halls with a severed horn. He would not wear that same sign of defeat.