The Ruins by David Albano

Images carved into the ice dance in shadows along the frozen corridors. Impish creatures and horned beasts glow among the etchings…

That expedition still flickers across my memory like a candle in the stillness. On sleepless nights, I recall the allure of the northernmost ruins drawing us through the Arctic catacombs. I dream of the scattered debris and the weathered reins harnessed to rusted steel. And, amid the remains, strips of red cloth and decaying antlers glisten in the torchlight.

We stare in horror at the sepulchre our presence had desecrated.

For that Arctic tomb had once been his workshop.