The Isle of Non

Quick concept art. Concept based on a dream I once had.

Statue pose courtesy of: [link]

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There once was an island, whose people invested everything into building a grand castle fortress. Every wall was a hundred feet high, sheer and impenetrable; its towers seemed to touch the clouds. Stonemasons and sculpters had been hired from the mainland, to adorn banisters and buttresses with fanciful creatures and historical accounts of the island's past. For a time, they were mighty. But in building their fortress, they had used up every stone, every tree, and every shore of clay, until their island was diminished, and the sea rose to swallow the foundations of all they had built.
Left with nothing but their walls of stone, they began to remove blocks from the highest towers to reinforce the foundation, watching them sink one at a time below the sea's surface. Soon, the castle was no longer grand, and their offerings of stone only tumbled into the water's depths, doing nothing to hold back the rising tide.
Those with sense departed in boats, but the proudest remained as stewards, waiting for the waters to recede or swallow them whole. They were never heard from again, and all that now remains of the fortress reaches brokenly for the sky, only its highest towers visible above the waves. Looking down from above, the shadows of crumbling spires can be seen in the green light of the deep.
They say that once a night, you can still see the light of the last steward's lantern descending its steps, making offerings of stone to the depths, one block at a time.