Ice Palace

I walk the field of white, a lone edifice stands in the distance. Shelter from the biting cold and the overcast blanket above. It stands alone as I do. Closer I come into its embrace. A would be haven to my eyes and my bones. Pushing my way in I breach the barrier of white to a world of sharp deep blues. No stone, no ancient wood, but even greater cold. A realm of ice greets me. Impossible yet real before my eyes and to my bones as the chill gnaws greater than before. Still, it keeps the wind at bay, this impossible place. Ice everywhere, eternally still yet mocking in it's flowing illusion. This impossible place calls to come and I answer. Moving deeper, colder, and closer to its core. The wind is dead here but not it's song, distant and haunting it plays on the flowing ice. Calling me closer to the core and so I come. Slowly the wonders of deep blue give way to playful purple in the not so distant room and so I come. Closer to the core. Finally, I am there and see fire in ice, impossible yet real. I am at the core. What awaits me is another illusion, one of warmth and welcome. A purple fire in an ice hearth near a table of ice with placings and chairs of ice. Cold is the core. Sitting there is a beauty beyond words. A perfection of pale flesh as cold as the ice surrounding us both yet true all the same. It, nay, she smiles an illusion of kindness. Promising what she cannot give or has ever known. Here is the core and I am no longer cold.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This is one of my entries from one of @ErwinBlackthorn writing challenges. Enjoy. ;)