August Wk. 3 Art Challenge - Ray of Light

[Ubique]

this challenge is open to any typical form of art or expression, including 2D, 3D, poetry and short stories.

in the darkest times, there are rays of light. shadows only exist because something somewhere is shining. is it that boy that you are sure will save you from your cruel too horny master? is it that girl who makes the world spin on its axis and renews your hopes? is it that weapon you cherish that you are sure will get you through that very terrible battle? show us your rays of light! your hopeful moments! the sun shining through dark clouds, the rainbow after the storm, the bloom of a flower at the beginning of spring and the bounty of the harvest at the end of summer, the harvest that will feed your kin through the dark months to come. *dances*

[Tehya]

Patron aka Sorgam

There is a depth of darkness in any bard, and all the years you have tried to be at my side with such intense resistance from me, you finally captured my spirit when darkness prevailed. A time of mockery, a time of pain, and a year of waiting, only to find my hands bloody and the cries of anguish when the ice army was finally completed to trail down the road leading to the palace.

The army was a suitable collection of men and women carved by my own hand to have those with magic try and animate them to fight…and yet a mocking laugh repaid me for my efforts. Why ice melts in the desert of course, but with the magic within the land my hope of the reverse working made war a task I could not conquer.

The men and women had features of those known among us, a duplicate of all races, nobles, and peasants alike. The light of the sun vanished for that time period and darkness…such a dreary grave for those bringing back the wounded and dead to be revived. How desolate it was with no sun, even the army of ice lost their prisms of colors.

You found me on the hill where one more statue was to be completed, that one made of crystal for Lord Relanoth, but the army was a humility I created on my own, and no matter how many times you told me the work was beautiful and could be useful, you decided to set out and destroy it to release me from my own self made prison.

Each statue you set your fire to, flames licked and melted their features one by one. Weeks of work dissolved into a pile of slush. You’re intense chaos and magic took them down one at time, knowing once they were gone I could come to light with my spirit once again.

With your magic ebbing, or so I thought, one lone statue remained down at the lower drive, and I ran to see why she remained. It was a beautiful Sylvan ice sculpture, and I looked at you worried, knowing you could destroy them all to ease my heart.

You drew me into your arms, whispered to me endearments, vowed to hate what hurt me, vowed to use your magic to destroy what was mocked.

The snow was so white and undisturbed, and while I was in your arms the dance steps you led me into drew a tapestry of the years we have known each other. Such beautiful dance steps, maybe it was a combination of our magic, who knows, but I shall never forget it.

You danced me to the end of the drive where that one statue didn’t melt, such a sullen blue in color the ice sculpture of a woman stood there defiantly.

Your strong hand lifted my chin and told me to look at her resistance to melt, saying she reminded you of me, and I seen tears flow down her eyes while we stood there watching until the wee morning, and finally the sun broke through. The darkness left, and prisms of light lit the palace grounds.

Your words whispered low and baritone in my ear, “Cornflower; she will feel your pain, and while she melts slowly the light will prevail.

You were right Patron, each tear she shed until she melted away made the light remain, and the sorrow was stored away in its own dark prison.

Cornflower aka Tehya

[Mudeniel]

This is not a proper submission. This is not written by me, it is in actuality an extract from the book "Dead Beat"
by Jim Butcher

But it's the best damn Ray of Light I've seen since Serenity Valley.

[Soreni]

Woot for the dresden fan!

[mozenwrathe]

*Memories can be a powerful thing. They can bridge the gap between the past and the future. They can mold a weak mind or shatter a strong heart. For something as ephemeral as thoughts connected to events that have long since transpired, a singular memory to a fallen soul can be as important as water to a starving man. Of course, there is no way to tell exactly how truthful one's memories can be when the gods are involved. Ask any of the winged races about that. Any of them. Just... be careful whom you ask. The wolven and the vulpani, however, will have a different story altogether.*

Or Some Other Safe Location
by Yashawini Asaque, half-wolven friend of the fatesinger Neelkamala D'aari

it was in a dream that I remember
seeing the fall of one I could only whisper
a name that was not a name but a title
his chest covered in his own blood
for the spear had pierced through
and did the dawn rear itself at that moment
single beam of light through the clouds
storm having just ended as he fought
losing his step and his life at the same time
with the blessing of the sun
following him all the way down
curse upon his lips while his smiled

it was no more than a vision while sleeping
someone that could never have existed
combination of features and form
never to be considered truth in my heart
a mere nightmare as the words themselves
spoken could not have been of any tongue
yet the way the light cast down from heavens
covered his painful descent into darkness
could I not help but wake weeping
heart aching for one who appeared happy
not having to remain amongst the living

wrapping myself in thick blankets
so many years after the fateful night
do I think to what changed for me
going forward as sea of stars most tragic
turned into skies of amazing imagery
watching darkness become winter rainbow
and my blessing to travel forth
experiencing the world on my own terms
with my first dusk spent watching
each stream of gentle sunshine fade
until only one was left
pointing the way to where I would travel

to this day I can recall the face
of the one who tumbled from the light
ever wrathful gaze looking upwards
as if pointing fury at the gods themselves
his heart filled with naught but rage
yet the sun would not leave him be
until his eyes closed at last
with his final breath quiet and peaceful
but something within me dreads
knowing that story is not truly over
though am I no bard to create a tale
nor weaver to put it to tapestry
so shall I forever remain alert
for the next dream to come to me