He woke up with a start. His usual nap was interrupted. Intense rays of light entered his fortress. The sacred place where he coldly calculated his every move and action.
It was his kingdom of ice, with strong walls where he had written the tricks he practiced to trick the villages and towns around him. The Iceman enraptured everyone with his fancy language. Entire villages were surrendered to his eloquence and wisdom.
He seemed invincible and untouchable. He had no limits. Conquering all the villages was among his plans. But on that day the rays of light were stronger. The heat took effect, forming a hole in the ice fortress.
The light spread throughout the sanctuary, pulling away the shadows and melting its walls. The great charade of his empire was crumbling. A solid stake of ice turned to liquid in just minutes. The light posed a threat to everything he had built with deceit and lies.
It was time to change plans. He had to go beyond the wall and repeat his icy, Machiavellian survival regime. He would take his frozen heart to other territories. Just as he had learned in his red past, the one he kept hidden from the eyes of the world, but which a lone wolf could smell.
His lies were to survive by tricking, if possible, all the gods. But sooner rather than later, the massive ice mass filled with the worst of human feelings would fall under its own weight, and the Iceman and his kingdom would one day be only water.
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