All tracks are traditional transformed into dungeon synth, and here are some words to read if you wish (some were inspired by the great Breton poet and folklorist Anatole Le Braz 1859-1926)

1) Isle of Agaton. Two granite crosses stand on the isle of Agaton, located a hundred and fifty feet apart. That distance is shortening by the size of a wheat grain every seventh year, and when the two crosses touch, it will be the end of the world.

2) Return To Ys. Atlantis, Babylon? Choose your dreaming city! Xanadu, Brigadoon? Choose your dreaming city! I made up my mind, I return to Ys.

3) Given the last rites by a dead priest. Before the dawn, as I was already on my way, I was urged by a priest to follow him to Lord Guilcher’s mansion and help him give the last rites to the dying man… The morning after, I heard people say poor Lord Guilcher had passed away without receiving the last rites, because the priest had given up the ghost earlier the same night. They wouldn't believe me if I told them...

4) Copshawhome Fairies. You’d better beware of the black brambleberries
That grow in the trail of the Copshawholme fairies!
You’ve seen the pictures of their Cottingley sisters
But it’s different here, very different, mister!
You’d better stay home on the eve of Beltane,
Lock yourself in, never go out again,
‘Cause the Copshawholme fairies have made plans for you,
You wouldn’t believe what they’re able to do!

5) The Pall-Stealer. Midnight. To win a bet, Katie was walking through the old village graveyard when she saw the church-door had been left opened wide. Bravely, she entered and reached a catafalque. Upon it was a pall, lit by a few candles. «The boys have made a joke on me» she thought, then took the pall and ran away. «On the bible we swear we did not do such a thing» they replied when she showed them the pall…. Morning. When the priest heard her confession, he whispered: «there’s only one way to save your soul now, Katie; tonight, bring the pall back to where you stole it and do what has to be done!»… Midnight again. The door still opened; the same catafalque; the same candles. As soon as she put the pall on the catafalque, a dead man crept out of the shadows and laid himself on it. Katie rolled the pall over him and began to sew. When she had almost finished, the priest, who had stayed in a corner watching, said: «now it’s time for you and the dead to have an argument!» … Morning again. What is left of the poor young maid? A dismembered body on the church-floor, the priest beside her, smiling: «now your soul is saved, Katie my dear!»