Long before humanity evolved to our present grandeur, long before the continents took their present shapes, long before the reindeer forgot how to fly, Santas teemed upon the icecaps, every spring migrating north, every fall migrating south. Their sleighs chased the sun so these Santas never knew darkness.
One year, a plague afflicted the Santas' camp. Phlegm spewed from tents like green lava, slowing until it froze.
One boy prayed to the goat-god for savior from this mortal disease. The incubus cursed him with eternity.
Every Christmas, the sole remaining Santa migrates to every human household to ease his loneliness.