Regaining Hope (Solo)

by **Ilhor Skyglow** on August 17th, 2012, 9:51 am

Regaining Hope
Summer 15, 512 AV

Ilhor was in his Arvinta, lying down, totally still, breathing lightly. His eyes were open, starring pointlessly at an empty part of his house. His mind was filled with void thoughts, and images that might have meant something in the past, but now were only blank, transparent, and hollow shades.

He thought he would never allow himself to reach that state, he was so emotionally strong, hardened by all the immeasurable suffering he had to endure in his life. And indeed, right up until the Djed Storm hit, he was doing ok, given that he was left alone to fend for himself from his early teens. His sculpting was progressing, his selling skills as well, and he had managed to amass some gold, not much, but enough to allow him to dream that soon he would be able to start his journey retracing his father’s steps.

And then the Storm hit. And took away all he had been left with, all he had achieved, everything he had dreamt of. His ice sculptures had begun to melt around him, disappearing into an amorphous, uncontrollable liquid. The first few weeks he tried desperately to preserve them, but there was nothing he could do, and no one to help him with it. Every capable hand was out trying to save the city, the palace, the gates. Everything was melting, slowly disappearing into nothingness, his whole world transformed into innumerable tiny waterfalls, flowing all around him, taking with them all he had ever known.

After a few days, his paralyzing grief turned into anger. A furious, terrible anger that consumed his very soul, and seemed to control his body into outbursts of rage. He screamed, loud and long, until his lungs were empty and his mouth ached. He punched in the air, on the walls, on the remains of his sculptures, until his hands were bloody and burning. The seer injustice of this world, that took away his mother, his father, and now, everything else left to him, was too much to take. In all his life, he would fight injustice without second thought. But now, the injustice was too much, and the source totally unknown. In the end, all he could do was turn on himself, trying to inflict upon him the punishment he couldn’t inflict on the source of his tragedies.

After some time, the outbursts of rage stopped. He simply had nothing more to give, emotionally, mentally, or physically. His mind gradually emptied, and his body felt like a machine, moving instinctively out of the house to buy some necessities, and then powering down to a long, still sleep.

by **Ilhor Skyglow** on August 17th, 2012, 5:22 pm

As he was lying down, still for hours, an image came to his mind, clear and vibrant, totally different from the grey mass of thoughts that filled his head for the past months. He blinked repeatedly, but the image was still there, like it was really in front of him, filling the air and the emptiness of his room.

For half a minute, he stared blindly at it, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. But then, suddenly, he made out the shape. Barely holding back a cry, he recognized the form of his father, standing tall in front of him, looking directly in his eyes, with a hidden smile. His father’s hand was extending towards him, firm but gentle, his palm open.

And in it, shining like recently worked jewelry, was a tiny, perfect snowflake. Ilhor started feeling cold, started shivering, a shiver that seemed to transfer life to every part of his weakened body. A sudden feeling of strength filled him, and he thought of moving to grasp the snowflake, when he heard some cries coming from outside. Instinctively, he slightly turned his head to the side, but quickly returned to his vision, which was now utterly gone. Not knowing what to make of all this, and with a growing feeling that he has turned utterly crazy, he slowly moved to the window to see what was going on.

The cry he held back a moment ago escaped his mouth uncontrollably. And it was a cry of joy! After so many months, after every hope has vanished, it seemed that life has returned to this world.

It was snowing!

He stood by the window for hours, watching the snow get heavier and heavier, listening to the joyful cries of the kids, and the men and women of Avanthal. Slowly, a faint smile formed in his face, his eyes glowing. If the land could heal, if the people could regain hope, so could he. Not everything was lost, not yet.

On a whim, he gathered some stagnant water of his floor and started turning it into ice. Without thinking, and with a passion he thought he had lost forever, he started sculpting simple shapes, squares, spheres, pyramids. And the ice held.

With newfound strength, he stepped outside, and rapidly made his way to the Sculpting Yard. He hadn’t dared go that way since the Storm hit, he just couldn’t bear looking at the destruction it must have brought to this beautiful place. But now, now that the snow was back, he knew that this destruction was not the end, but merely a brand new beginning, coming out after a lengthy, hard, painful labor.

by **Ilhor Skyglow** on August 17th, 2012, 9:53 pm

As Ilhor neared the Yard, he tried to prepare himself for what he might find there, or not find, to be more precise.

The first thing he noticed, the only thing visible from that distance at this hour, was what remained of the beautiful central gazebo. Its roof was totally ruined, having melted down and apparently collapsed, and large cracks could be seen on the supporting columns. Ilhor clutched his fingers into a fist and kept on, more determined than before, with greater pace.

He entered the Yard without looking, steading himself on a piece of rock, and slowly lifted his eyes. The sight hit him like thunder, and he almost recoiled from the shock. The marvel that was the Yard, with all its magnificent sculptures, immense and beautiful and intricate, was no more. What laid before him was just a muddy alley, slowly covering up with snow, dotted here and there with some bear or wolf made out of rock. “This is too much”, he thought, and almost fainted on the rock that was meant to support him. “Hopeless”, he heard his mind crying to him, “All gone”. For a brief moment he felt like giving up, the grey mass of stillness and voidness slowly griping back into his heart and blocking his vision.

Then he remembered, “Morwen’s statue, at the back, run”. His feet moved before his conscious mind could process anything, and he was running, hurtling mud and snow all over. And there, at the back of the Yard, surrounded by dozens of people praying silently, stood, in all its glory, the beautiful statue of Morwen, with not a crack to be seen anywhere. Feeling his legs giving way, he kneeled, and joined his prayer to those of the others.

“Hope”, he thought, “is earned through our actions, not gifted”.

He slowly stood up and started back home. In his mind, a perfect sculpture was shaping up, a sculpture that would capture all he had experienced that day.

"My contribution to the regain of hope", he thought, and smiled softly.

by **Ilhor Skyglow** on August 18th, 2012, 8:04 am

Nearing his Arvinta, he kneeled and collected some snow from outside. His heart was pounding, his mind restlessly combining all he knew about sculpting and carving to make out the plan for his sculpture.

He entered his house and mechanically started to form firm ice plates from the snow, while his head was filling up with ways to cut, directions, tools, volumes, shapes. After a short time the plates were ready, and he was ready to begin sculpting.

He opened his father’s sculpting toolbox, a slight shiver crossing his body. He started cutting the ice into a rough M shaped chunk, and then started smoothing it around the edges until it looked like a pair of gloves, with a pair of amorphous thumbs escaping from each side. Then he started working on the inside of the volume, cutting it deep, and with ever so elegant movements begun to shape it into a pair of human hands, removing ice to form the fingers.

Some time passed, and the sculpture has now started to resemble a pair of hands, their palms open. He continued, with greater vigor and clarity than he had ever thought he had, to carve the intricate details on the palms that would transform them into what he had in mind.

When he finished, he took another chunk of ice and shaped it into a small rectangular plate. On it, he started to carve his vision, his eyes never losing focus, his hand steady as rock. With every move his hands made, he felt the presence of his mother, the one that taught him carving and using these plates, guiding his hand. There was serenity in those moments, and Ilhor, for the first time since his tragedies hit him, felt truly at peace.

More time passed by, and then more. Ilhor was looking at his sculpture from a distance, then moving in closer to add some detail, and then again. At last, he thought he had finished, as final as any work of art may ever be. He took some step backwards and for the first time took a good look at his creation, not the artist’s look, but the viewer’s.

Before him stood two human hands, young and elegant, most probably a woman’s. Their palms were open, and resting on them was a small plate on which was carved a small, perfect, glowing snowflake. One of the hands had its fingers extending outwards, inviting the viewer to take the snowflake, requesting nothing of him, but to reach. But the other hand had its fingers ever so slightly cuddled inwards, like ready to close around the snowflake in an instant, for those unworthy to take it.

“Hope”, he said softly, “is earned through our actions, not gifted”.

And carved those words on the back of the snowflake’s plate...

by **Ilhor Skyglow** on August 18th, 2012, 8:06 am

Looking outside his window, he noticed, for the first time, how long this whole process must have taken. It seemed to be late afternoon, whereas when he started working was dusk, meaning he had worked almost a whole day non-stop. Yet he didn’t feel jaded, not in the slightest. With the utmost care, he took his sculpture in his hands, and started for the Yard. He was determined to gift this sculpture to the people of Avanthal, help them restore the city to its beauty, and help them, in his way, regain their lost hope.

He knew that, had things been normal, his sculpture might never make it for display in such a place. Yet, in a bizarre thought for his perfectionist nature, he didn’t care. If he had to, he would leave it on the streets. He knew that it no longer belonged to him, he was just the creator, and the owner anyone that needed it.

by **Valkyrie** on August 23rd, 2012, 7:51 pm

As Ilhor drew near the Sculpture Yard again he came across a serious looking woman standing in the entrance of the yard. From growing up in the Skyglow Hold Ilhor would recognize her as Nikari, the wife of Vannis Skyglow. Nikari was a serious and quiet woman but had never been known to be rude or unfriendly. As Ilhor approached her eyes immediately went to the sculpture in his arms.

“Are you bringing that for submission to the Yard? You look a bit young to be submitting sculptures here, but let me see it. With so much destruction and all our beautiful work gone we need every piece we can get.” She instructed and Ilhor handed over the sculpture. Nikari examined it quickly but her eyes took in every little quirk and detail of it. She looked up at Ilhor and smiled.

“This piece is rough and no where near what our Masters could produce, but, it is still beautiful. And it is a good message for the trying times our people have gone through. I will see that it has a good home in the Yard.” Nikari said. Ilhor bowed his head in appreciation to the wife of his Leader and departed back home to his Arvinta. When he checked the Sculpture Yard the next day, he found his sculpture resting atop a small pedestal with his name and the date of his submission carved into the base.

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