Ice Cold

the room was.. A tinge of warm light of unknown origin filled the otherwise dead chamber. Ice covered the walls, like flawless mirrors they mock him. His reflections.. monstrosities..

Only human. How could he be worthy of the great treasure he seeks?

And there it was. Encased in a throne of ice. So alluring, tangible, just within reach. It's beauty second to none, save the warm light he follows.

So close.. yet so far..

His fingers ran across the dry frozen surface of its prison. No sign of melting. Surely there must be a way..

Its artist, a master of all, apprentice to none. His works are elusive, yet always finding their way into the hands of those who seek them hard enough.

Surely.. there must be a way...

The warm guiding light.. perhaps...

perhaps...

Red

He walked into the chamber.

Crimson. Everywhere he looked, it's as though a blood-red veil covered his eyes. The painting eluded his sight. A portrait of royalty. All his life he sought after the masterpiece, all his life he wondered, wondered if he had wasted a lifetime chasing a children's fairytale. Sometimes it would come within his grasp, only to vanish before his very eyes.

So close, yet so far, he would always think. Perhaps if I were to look harder..

He groped in the crimson-lit darkness. Perhaps a little light may guide my way he thought. He searched, for even the tiniest streak of unblemished light could mean the difference between hope and despair.

Hope.

A powerful friend, a deadly force. Holding on to it, you just might get what you asked for. Grasp on to it, and you find despair, a bitter companion to your very soul.

Alas! A twinkle of light caught his eye, or at least he thought. Could it be? It came from beneath an old door. Abandoned and forgotten. What horrors or dangers could be lying beyond the wooden-framed panel?

'What do I have to lose?' he chuckled. Bitterly.

He reached out for the knob. Rust and mold filled his fingers.

The door opened.

He walked into the chamber...