Back in those days, the caves beneath the cold island went very deep. In fact, it was a ravine underground. Dangerous to fall from, but just fine to take the ladder.
All of the rich sundries we unearthed came so fast. It almost just felt like a short fortnight.
We toiled in those caves until - almost mocking the sunset - we retired to the chore of building a house on the island. Bedrooms, a kitchen, a solarium facing the freezing water, picture frames festooning the wall and a series of stairs bringing us all through out.
It was late one night we were busy carving out a basement. Boredom became us though. Or perhaps it wasn't boredom, but the sense of death. We wouldn't need that basement for anything other than to use as possibly a grave. How boring.
He casted a spell on himself and took to the night sky, his silhouette first eclipsing the moon, but then eventually fading to a small dark dot and gone.
I waited in the basement and never saw him again.
Listen to the full album here