Sea of Ice
White was all that could be seen even as the wind blew holes through the snow falling to the ground. A lone figure walks through the ice and dirty snow, braving the cold, and yet covered with ice himself. He looks back up from the ground he is trying to traverse, trying to peer up the slopes his master told him to climb. A lonesome quest, the hardest yet, but the purpose unclear to the now cold mind of the traveling figure.
His training was stalled, his improvement in the arts was not improving and his master saw fit to make him travel across these lands for days upon days. His painting lacked inner heart, as his master put it, and he was on a journey to find it within himself. Yet, all that the artist could think about was the frigid cold seeping into every opening. There was nothing in his mind, and that was where the problem laid.
The ice under his feet started to stiffen the more he climbed up, almost as if it was mirroring his inner thoughts. All he could see was a couple lengths in front of him, just as his master had told him in the guild. But in there was warmth, not like the coldness of the night that was starting to settle on this mountaintop. He could feel it coming, the night crawling over the land as the yellow globe in the sky fell down to the ground just over the horizon. The tendrils would reach him soon, his master told him he must reach over the summit before it lays its grasp on him, or he would never survive.
He started to hurry more, increasing his pace, braving the wind that was starting to pick up and that was threatening him to push him back farther and farther. Nothing in his sight changed, and yet he kept moving, kept true to his word to his master because of the bond between them. There was no turning back now, he would be killed by the nights breathe if he tried to turn back. There was only one way now, to travel up higher, and to get there faster before the fingers of the night crept up on him.
He fell to the ground, the hard ice threatening to take him down farther. He shoved his fist and anchored himself down, breathing deeply to try to stave off his exhaustion. He looked up once more, trying to see the summit, and wondering if he was able to see a bit farther than before. He got back up and kept his pace until he nearly fell forward again, but not from the ice but because of the sight he saw.
He had reached the top, just as the yellow ball was settling over the horizon. He saw one of the most magnificent sights in all of the lands. He looked at the ocean for the first time, and he saw the yellow ball settle over the land as it reached with its last fingers of light. Those same fingers played across the sea, and across his heart.
And so you see my son, this was how my greatest disciple came to be. He changed on that day, that light being imprinted into his heart and soul. Soon one day you too might have to take a journey as have I have done. Where you will go, what you will see I cannot say for sure. But, I will say this to you. When you do go on your life’s journey, never forget that last sight, as that is what will drive your passion.